[lit-ideas] Re: A Poem for Irene's black mood

  • From: JimKandJulieB@xxxxxxx
  • To: lit-ideas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
  • Date: Sun, 22 Oct 2006 08:22:24 EDT

EVERYBODY needs a poem <g>.  (btw, you would get along great w/  my daughter, 
who believes every living creature, no matter how deadly or  dangerous, 
should be granted a full life.)

========Original  Message========     Subj: [lit-ideas] Re: A Poem for 
Irene's black mood  Date: 9/30/2006 12:36:15 P.M. Central Standard Time  From: 
_aamago@xxxxxxxxxxxxxx (mailto:aamago@xxxxxxxxxxxxx)   To: 
_lit-ideas@xxxxxxxxxxxxxx (mailto:lit-ideas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx)   Sent on:    

So everything that goes on in the world is a consequence of my  black mood?  
There's something Christian about that idea, one person dying  for everyone's 
sins.  Andy the Almighty, has a ring to it.  Thanks for  the poem.  Happy talk 
henceforth ...
Speaking of original sin, let me tell you about my  snake.   I was walking 
down to get my mail and I see something  that looked like a pretty long twig 
lying on the driveway, kind of like two  twigs together parallel to each other. 
I approached it and saw it was a  snake.  It was all black.  It wasn't moving, 
so I gently  poked it with my foot to see if it was alive.  It still didn't  
move, so I figured the neighbor's dog had killed it.  She's left me dead  
animals before to clean up.  (She also tore open a bag of used cat litter  in 
garage; I have to keep it in the laundry room now.)  Anyway, I went  back to 
get a snow shovel and hoe to pick up the snake and throw it under a  tree.  I 
positioned the snow shovel and hoe under the snake and started to  ease the 
snake onto the shovel.  Just as I was doing that, the thing came  to life.  I 
quick finished scooping it up and threw it on the lawn where it  did a classic 
snake lunging pose at me, kind of standing up with its first  six inches or so, 
kind of curled, and shooting its tongue out at me and  hissing.  I think it was 
just sunning itself on the driveway and I woke it  up.   I said, geez, that's 
gratitude for ya, I just didn't want you to  get run over, that's all.  It 
just kept hissing, I guess it didn't like  getting poked.  It's too bad that 
religion has us brainwashed that snakes  are evil.  Snakes are good, some even 
think they're beautiful, and  they keep down the rodent population.  I think in 
India the hunting of  snakes for their skins caused an explosion in the 
rodents.  Cats are  good for keeping down rodents too, and keeping down snakes 
Thanks for the poem, Lawrence.  I appreciate all your efforts at  cheering me 
up.  What I need is a pair of rose colored glasses, that's all,  to stop 
looking at all the reality, which I can't stop myself from doing.   Who really 
needs a poem I think is Julie ... 



----- Original Message ----- 
From:  _Lawrence Helm_ (mailto:lawrencehelm@xxxxxxxxxxxx)  
To: _lit-ideas@xxxxxxxxxxxxxx (mailto:lit-ideas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx) 
Sent: 9/30/2006 12:42:06 PM 
Subject: [lit-ideas] A Poem for Irene's  black mood

Leg Kicking Dreams of a Mongrel Dog    5-21-86 
It is so hard to take my meaningless dream 
Out like this upon a page, trotting it out 
Like some mongrel pup that doesn't quite mean anything, 
But there it is staring back with utmost disregard 
Of all propriety and dignity, quite capable 
Of creating a stench before your very eyes: 
The rose arbor of Banning Park shelters, 
Now, napkins, cans, cigarettes and straws,  
And countless days bearing this abuse 
Till I repudiate my roots and wrench  
Loose seeking a path where my boot won't 
Trod upon another's print nor my steps be heard. 
There is a violence in such tearing loose 
(Bespattered fountains and litter-lined walks, 
Though there be, and the click click of metal heels  
And challenging looks) ah what it would cost 
To change it all  -- I could not pay. 
It is better far to seek some other way: 
There was a misting rain one day 
High on Smith Mountain, and I ran 
To see the center of a mild storm. 
All was clean up there, and slick 
Such that a rock that slipped away 
Might lose itself in the sound of leaves. 
I left it there in the deep coolness 
Sending up steam to blend with the mist. 
Running back then, I could not sustain 
That purity, nor could it sustain me. 
There must be another me treading upon 
Some other path, ah me, down there. 

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