in cars, airports, airplanes, trains
this tote carried me and my goods
in iambic pentameter, Wallace Stevens,
I wish that I might be a thinking stone
(to admire far-below surroundings
of fair-furrowed hay-gold,
corn-green fields: why
you prospered, why
Saxons wanted you)
holiday humanity at the wax-works
shouting and camera-flash but here
in his corner, Dickens, and yea verily
Shakespeare, standing
then after the kerfuffle over Baker Street
while hungry, footsore we rattled
in the packed train all subterranean
children on our way to who knows
where or why: a song of apple boughs
pasted on the wall, Dylan Thomas,
and I was green and carefree
under the new made clouds
and happy as the heart was long
Poetry had saved my life often. I enjoyed the poem and your thoughts.
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Thanks for reading! Poetry is absolutely a lifesaver. We need to spread that message!
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I agree.
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This is beautifully written.
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Thanks so much!
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You’re welcome. (-:
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I love this glimpse behind the poet’s thoughts! And I have to congratulate you and thank you for using the amazing but under appreciated word, “kerfuffle.” 🙂
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It is a great word, isn’t it? Thanks, and you’re welcome!
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Great poem Jennifer. Hungry, footsore and rattling in the tube in London definitely rings a bell!
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Haha, thanks. My first time in London–I was so staggered by how everyone seems to know exactly where to go in the stations, just fast-flowing streams of people with purpose!
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