Magpie Tales-73 : Poem: Citizen Athlete

White cap waves
Atlantic in origin
breed man's self-indulgence
from biceps digging 
in the waters to full
blown sails pushing waterline
the nonchalant splash and slap
or power about breast
strokes their propulsion.
On the shore the fun
spills over - flat hand paddles
bang out points over
makeshift netting.
By night Martha's Vineyard
crawls with crab meat and oysters
soothing the hunger pangs
of the citizen athlete. 

2011© Michael A. Wells

 Magpie Tales -73

*photo credit: People of Chilmark, Thomas Hart Benton, 1920

Why we go to poetry

"The reason we go to poetry is not for wisdom, but for the dismantiling of wisdom."  - Jacques Lacan



Thanks to Terresa who lead me to the quote!



Why do you Go to poetry?

Confession Tuesday - Time Edition

Yes, it's that time again. Another Tuesday and here i am at the confessional.  Let's hurry along, I'm not sure how much time I have.


Dear Reader:  It's been another whole week and a whole bunch of emotion since my last confession.


One way or another time has been doing a number on me. I must confess that I have never considered time to be my friend. When I was young it seemed like time would drag on in an eternally slow crawl.  As a kid I was oh so anxious to grow up and decried the cruelty of how long my childhood was taking. 


Somewhere between then and now something changed and time began to move with  breakneck speed.  Like the cautious adage, it to good to be careful what one wishes for. I grew up and have been fighting time every since. Time seems to inform a lot of what I write about.  I confess that too often time creeps into my poetry riding the backs of other topics it will almost always find safe passage past my internal censor. This past week especially, I've thought a lot about time.


The past has been just one aspect of this time obsession.  It has been a series of recent events that has reminded me all too well of a part of my childhood that I was anxious to leave behind.  I confess that I was not prepared and may never be prepared to deal with the combined feelings of anger and hurt that I am reminded of.  This is something I had fairly well buried, walled off and stepped back from.


The surprise recurrence of these feelings manifests itself in several ways.  Anxiety, lower self-esteem, and anger are just a few of the readily identifiable ways it has impacted me. I confess that a big part of the frustration is that  I seemed unable to control how any of this unfolded. 


I confess that this resurgence of residual feelings from childhood at this time clearly means that growing up is not an escape route.  Two other things that have plagued me because of this, battling to keep writing recently from sounding like teenage angst, and speculating every day how old I will live to be.  Both which seem to fail the test of proactive ways to spend time.


But enough of this! Tonight is the All-Star game.  I'm ready for the National League to win! 


May each of you have a winning week too!

Wanted - A Radio Station in Kasnas City

Seriously folks, when KUDL 98.1 disappeared from the radio airways early this year - a long tradition of adult contemporary music was lost and the station became 99.7 THE POINT[less] KC lost more then a radio station... it lost a cross-generational entertainment media. What has taken the place of KUDL is a variety of no-name, and lesser-name performers that may or may not be remembered 5 - 10 years  I've tried The Point[less] several times since the change over and  it hasn't gotten any better. We NEED a new station with the old format that was big name music spanning the 1970's through 1990's & contemporary hits as well.

Somebody... anybody - are listening?

Journal Bits

I'm overdue for my Journal bits post, so here goes...

• June 23 - "you asked how I felt/about the aggregate-/I tell you that is quite a sum/a lot of cookies/I feel overwhelmed"
• June 25 - "clouds speak endlessly in a limited vocabulary"
• June 28 -"I'm stuck at 22 likes on my Facebook writers page - three away from what I need."
• June 29 -"it's my desire to scream right now..."
• July 1 - "I would like to have gone to First Friday at the Crossroads but the heat is oppressive."
• July 3 - "It is the summer of discontent/thick with verbiage that subsides/rolling back in white foam/a quiet lace that always predicts /another round of roaring waves."
• July 6 - "...I have last weeks register receipts/for no particular reason..."
• July 8 - "Lunch with an untruth/gimme a stiff drink/should have ordered takeout..."

Alone

Against a wall wet with past
she leans- the musty memory
soaks her cloak    and lingers-
days to nights to days
the acherontics shuffles between
them and there is no deviation
nothing tangible to separate
one from the other -
darkness like the husk
of a walnut shell    encases her.
Who will crack the shell?
Can anyone?

2011 © Michael A. Wells

photo credit -  Amanda Slater


Magpie Tales 72 - Poem untitled

Wheat Field with Rising Sun, Vincent Van Gogh, 1889

Torrents of amber and goldenrod
highlights wave to the wind
under blistered sky

grasshoppers fleeing
ahead of us the field
ripe for a day of toil

tomorrow it will be
combines and us
against the fever

2011 © Michael A. Wells

Magpie Tales 72