Redneck Tale # 8 - A Non-Poem
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A Nifty Non-Poem
The City
At last there came the city,
nearing - distance abating.
It was not of the usual brick and mortar,
but a garble of mud huts,
waste dumps, and unpretentious shacks,
all in place, yet out of place,
like dark dreams in bright sunlight.
There were roads and avenues,
too narrow or too wide,
meant for avoiding, not for walking.
Hut upon hut, building upon building.
Dirt upon dirt.
This was no paradise,
no sought-for destination.
It was imagination planted
without a gardner for guidance,
like weed seeds tossed in the wind,
to sink tangling roots where they would,
better hidden than found.
To enter? To enter?
The thought is there.
Thoughts are for the brave.
It was fun and easy throwing this piece of nonsense together. The difficult part was calling it some sort of poem. But, let me know what you think of things like this. Simple thoughts strung out as plain prose writing, only to be squashed into linelets to tease readers foolish enough to read the whole thing and maybe develop the possible notion that I knew what I was doing – much like one of those "Maya Angelou" type "poems" where words are plastered onto paper willy-nilly with the hope that someone might actually think the result to be poetry.
As much as I hate it, "Hip-Hop" beats most of that stuff.
Remember that you can only be a Redneck if you disbelieve most of what you read but believe most of what you write. If you want to be a bright red Redneck, then you must also learn to sing - either that or pretend to do so.
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Dutchess - You are a dear person to say such nice things. I wrote that deal to pull everyone's legs. Were there any profound thoughts in it, they got there by accident. Yes. I am such a profound thinker that my father, my namesake, offered his opinion of my profundity to my mother. She related it to me some time after his death. "You know, son, your father did not think you'd make it at all until sometime after you turned 35." What had happened was that I had sent Dad copies of papers I had written, and he didn't understand half of those long words. What he never knew was that neither did I. :-)))
I like this, first of all.
Secondly, since this would not work as a paragraph, and uses images the way it does, it could only be a poem.
Jess
Hi Jess - What can I say? When you try to do wrong and it proves to be right, there is little hope. Funny thing was that I first wrote it out as I would most any paragraph. When it seemed to be stupid enough (meaningless) I chopped it up into little pieces. Sort of like those "bain Maries" ( Marie's baths - Marie purportedly being the alchemist sister of Moses)used to keep hot dogs warm and which are useful gadgets but mistakenly named! Gus
Gus: Loving the Redneck Tale #8-For all your humbleness-saturated with "Redneck-isms"...you just put down a pretty mean poem tale...where I thought I was entering some kind of 3rd world town village...that I ought to think twice...before entering. Well Done, my friend...I'm looking forward to reading all the "Redneck Tales" that I can!
MPM - "The best laid plans of mice and men are oft gang aglee." Now, who would have thought of such a thing? Here I simply wanted to pull some legs, but it worked out that I was shaking lots of hands instead. :-)))
Face it Gus, you're a poet at heart and stop trying to wiggle off that hook.
Immartin - I think that somewhere in all of this is a lesson for me to learn. :-)))
Duchess OBlunt Level 4 Commenter 2 years ago
Gus, the Redneck you have some profound thoughts.
Please don't stop posting them.
It appears you have entered, and your brave thoughts are finding their voice.