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| City stadium, Lynchburg, VA |
mine with sauteed onion, jalapeño,
smothered in cheese and mayo---the sun
and my family sit on brushed steel
chairs around an umbrella-ed table
two seats over she's sideways, thin
tree limbs in stretched tight jeans,
dyed purple & black, yet roundness hints
in all the right places & graffiti, silently eats
one miniscule bite at a time, but each
affects her deeply, enough to be noticed
murmuring sidewalk passers
mothers & children, dragging them on,
couples, friends, priests in white chokers,
suits, shorts - i run a long finger french
fry through my ketchup & hot sauce
'dad, what are you looking at?'
we make small talk, school, football,
dystopian harbingers of the global village,
a funny story the teacher told on how we
killed indians (sorry native americans)
that dared steal our berries because they believed
no one could own the land & in sharing,
manifest destiny, superheroes & such,
having lost her,
until a larger lady, sharp coat, slacks & gold buttons
moves like the man on the Rockefeller ceiling
announcing her arrival without saying a word,
bends around & when their lips meet i know
the train will back traffic up down the hill,
a cornerback, break their leg landing awkward,
society is a product tailor-made by institutions
that outlive cockroaches & hell
is full of people
who will never know love when they see it,
even if they bite their tongue, trying to chew
the last of their meal---
'son, don't ever confuse weeds & flowers.'
'what?'
'my favorites are dandelions.'
but by then their table is empty,
save a vague, lingering presence
of butterflies.
Over @ dVerse Poets today, Stu has us writing rebelliously...rebellion be it loud or subversive...grab your torches & bullhorns, and bring that poetic spirit when the doors open at 3 pm.
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89 comments:
Finally first. hah.
Love is where it is to be found; in the beat of a butterfly's wings or the pulse of a cornerback's break for love of the game.
Okay, my Native American ancestors forgive you, especially since they are still remembered.
And my other ancestors who were never in the closest also thank you though we never knew there was a closet for them to be in. And this was probably before you were born so thank you.
God bless.
Love is beautiful with whomever it is found and wherever it is found for sure; and those Five Guys Burgers are really quite amazing. Have only had one ONCE in my life! And love the ending of your poem with the lingering presence of butterflies!
That was a lovely piece of work!
Maggie X
Nuts in May
oh my, this is wonderful. i love the poignancy of the ending, in contrast with the angles and hard light that come before.
another perfectly painted slice of life from you.
Wow, a wonderful and touching piece. Nice.
I like the sun sitting with your family and enjoying the small talk. Nice capture of the women, of course, the ending of weeds and flowers. Love is lovely when found, soft as butterflies ~
Have a good weekend ~
LOL at least you apologized to the indians for it
My 1/16th indian won't take a hit hahaha
And there will be many weeds to come
Just have to pull them out and then some
To let the dandelions grow
Or whatever other one people like at their show
I've heard tell Dandelions are your favorite flower. Isn't people watching the best. I love finding the stories in the watching. :)
Brilliant as always.
Wow. Just wow!
My favorite line, though, is "Day, what are you looking at?" :)
Love Five Guys and I would have ordered that same burger. :)
My Cherokee ancestors forgive you. haha. You know, back before all the PC crap, we played cowboys and indians all the time. I always wanted to be an indian..and that was before I knew it was in my blood. lol...
A person can sing not because of the voice, but because of the ears. A person can write because of nothing but the eyes, and you have them. Thought about you Tuesday, as the family and I drove past the rhinos.
This was so good, so many elements to it. And also...I think I need to visit Five Guys today.
Another vignette drawn from life, and the butterflies are all over it. And just a little jalapeno juice seems to stick to the edges. Like my old Hort professor used to say, "a weed is just a plant out of place."
"'son, don't ever confuse weeds & flowers.'
'what?'
'my favorites are dandelions.'
but by then their table is empty,
save a vague, lingering presence
of butterflies."
ah, loved those last lines. hope all is well with you, its been awhile my friend.
Viva la difference.
Butterflies are free to fly ......
Some flowers ARE weeds!
You have a very discerning eye. May all your weeds be wildflowers. :)
Even weeds are beautiful in their own way...you have wonderful observation.
had to read it a few time to kinda grab this...grins...am sorry...my mind works slow on nuances....interesting brian...
Betsy I wanted be an indian too lol
dreamed with be an indian abd cherockee is nice:)
nice I love how you draw all and my favorite too is " dad what all you looking"" haha
love this:)
Great ending... children do see beauty in everything.
Now I'm off to order some french fries... (it's lunchtime, ya know).
love is everywhere but sometimes we dont see Brian!
First off...I want french fries (and that doesn't happen often) Awesome eyes, awesome words, awesome lines, the world's absurd...and makes for awesome poetry...love your ability to share the world in your voice...to see and feel how you do. With a rebel yell..she cried more, more, MORE! (Sorry...might have opened my bottle of courage a little too soon!)
I love the conversation between you and your son! Great poem... and of course love the butterflies.
Ocean Girl pointed this one out and i'm glad she did. It's beautiful.
jj
I suspect your sons will grow up to be good obervers of life, too. Just like their dad.
=)
Its great to see that people are sharing quite profitable information with each other and now we can move our selves to a new era.
Beautiful,delicate,enigmatic
A vague lingering presence of butterflies, that ROCKS!!
Didn't understand the train part, but does it matter? Loved the up and down of it.
Off to Google the Rockerfeller ceiling now. Is it like the Sistine Chapel's??
really enjoyed this! how you could see the skinny girl, like a snake having eaten, she had visible lumps where the food was inside. At least that's my interpretation!! :)
And DAMN, I want me a big juicy burger and fries now.
ya know...i confuse weeds & flowers quite often..ha..and my heart always seems to be more with the weeds than with that artificially grown flowers..love that piece..love your observations and how your thoughts wander...fav part is the tailor-made by institutions stanza..and think i def. have to go to five guys when i'm in the states next time..smiles
An amazing piece of work . Love the narrator's son interjecting at just the right moment ( as children often do) great poem!
Unique, rebellious love story. So glad to be back to read your subversive thoughts.
Missed you.
Brian--what a beautiful picture you pain here, soft (my NA ancestors also forgive you). Yes, sometimes loving itself is a rebellion, and you were PERFECT in the telling of this!
oops PAINT not pain
Vague & lingering is more powerful than we sometimes realize. ~Mary
Hungry for Five Guys ... A cool write, Brian. My son sometimes asks me the same question...what are you looking at? I love to observe.... Love weeds too :) Brilliant.
society is a product tailor-made by institutions
that outlive cockroaches & hell
is full of people
who will never know love when they see it
Brian- cant tell you how much I loved these lines....this poem conjured an all too familiar image for me..the baulking of society at people who choose to go their own way...and its ironic to me that the people who baulk are usually the most soulless....never confuse weeds & flowers... I couldn't agree more
Would have been good to be sat at your table for this one... not just because of all that tasty food but to watch the passers by, uncomfortable with what they see when really they should be uncomfortable with their intolerance.
The last lines are lovely...and, there are no weeds
To see the extraordinary in the ordinary is a wonderful gift - to be able to show it to we, who see it less clearly, as you have here goes beyond wonderful.
And here I was thinking that Naative Americans are now called First Nation or something.... Oh well, you live and learn.
Tony
This is powerful. I read it 10 times, and I think I need to read it 100 more times. It's sad how we miss out on the most beautiful things because we are cultural mimes.
Fabulous - love the strong ending, very poignant.
'son, don't ever confuse weeds & flowers.'
'what?'
'my favorites are dandelions.'
Hi! Brian...
Thanks, for sharing your [very] visual,[imagery][very] descriptive, poetic words...as you rebel...
deedee :)
This is just one of your best, Brian.
i like the internal rhyme and rhythm in the first two stanzas (especially the first. it kind of makes this seem like two pieces because this dwindles away later...
I love this:
"stretched tight jeans,
dyed purple & black, yet roundness hints
in all the right places & graffiti, silently eats"
And don't confused weeds and flowers ... my favorites are dandelions. So good. :)
Fabulous observations. This is so gentle, and yet so full of tiny details all taken in, in fleeting moments. I loved the kiss... everything is so touching. The butterflies, the chat between you and your son. I think weeds are flowers too and some are prettier than flowers. And, love is love, is love, is love.
Another lovely write.
Fabulous observations. This is so gentle, and yet so full of tiny details all taken in, in fleeting moments. I loved the kiss... everything is so touching. The butterflies, the chat between you and your son. I think weeds are flowers too and some are prettier than flowers. And, love is love, is love, is love.
Another lovely write.
taboos aren't what they used to be!
Go on, smash them to your heart's content; you do it well.
Scenarios breathless with mini dramas and reflections! Love the brushstrokes of characters and attitudes! But the final touch of butterflies, wings the moment into into the aether of magic!
Richly layered with life... bravo Brian, I really enjoyed this.
Your descriptions on your slice of life moments are so great that I feel like I'm right there with you, which I wouldn't mind at 5 guys!
Terrific. Wonderful. k.
Five Guys is a plus! I could go for one of those right about now... As for people watching - very interesting and I'm sure you see a form of rebellion in many.
forever the poet, even munching fries, for the poems leap out of the musky crowds, noisy traffic, greasy burgers, predispositions, misconceptions, and insights you gain while under the scrutiny of your children; good on you, sir: like the line, per Claudia /society is a product tailor-made by institutions that outlive cockroaches/
Five guys came to Maine last year--yummy!
Loving relationships are all a wonderful thing.
Wow Brian ... just written about wordplay and imagery to Claudia ... now find you're at it too! Utterly brilliant esp allusion to weeds / flowers ~ love it, all of it
I imagine you sitting there, absorbing all the sights and sounds, composing as each vision changes. Nice piece of work, Brian.
Brilliant from beginning to end, but this took the biscuit!
society is a product tailor-made by institutions
that outlive cockroaches & hell
is full of people
who will never know love when they see it,
even if they bite their tongue, trying to chew
the last of their meal---
'son, don't ever confuse weeds & flowers.'
We've here McD,BKing,Carl's,Pizza Hut,KFC,Wendy's,Domino's,KRoger's but no 5Guys yet! Would have to make a bee-line to Lynchburg then! Great write Brian!
Hank
really enjoying your take here some really great lines
Some great writing here.
Never really understand writer's block - over strict editor block yes - as just sit, look and listen and stories in all directions. I live some times if the weather is good to look at the milling shoppers and look for the x-factor passerby and one comes. They carry themselves and wear clothes that scream individuality and backstory. The other is watching the different ways people walk and trying to find the words that described itbsonthe reader could see what I saw. Not an easy exercise!
great poem, brian. so much can be written by people-watching. :)
i had to read a couple of times to get the "rebellious" part, ("when their lips meet i know"). something our society is still not comfortable with.
Just fitting it all together so seamlessly, as you have the natural ability to do. This is a really unique look at individualism, with your own seat in the sunlight to the 'sideways' and 'awkward' imagine so close to you. I like the advice that you've offered, for everything that grows in its own fitting ways, all of which needs the same light. I love the spreading of the seeds with dandelions and the lingering flexibility and transformation of butterflies.
Reading your verse made me realize how much I miss having more time to interact here. This is a busy year over at our home-school homestead, as our third will be reading by the end of the year and older boys gain more momentum in independence and the last two littles continue to learn through love and play. I'll continue to visit the pub as much as I can. :)
This captures the moment, the fleeting thoughts and the lives which touch ours.
from dandelion wishes to lovely round yellow sunshine heads, dandelions are an interesting entity. I think as children it is easy to see the potential beauty in everything--before adults shatter that innocence. only a rare few manage to carry it with them into adulthood. you definetly have and I'm sure given you your sons will as well.
really nice write!
fantastic piece. Really a unique and unexpected flavoring to the rebellion pie, so creative, one of those, "how cool, wish I thought of it like this" moments. The interweaving of images is very cool. Great read. Thanks
Oh Brian.. how you moved me with the line about 'hell is full of people who don't know love when they see it' the imbalance of it all! The descriptions are fab: the steel bench, trailing the fry in the sauce - awesomely yummy writing bro!
This made me think of the time my 4th grade teacher gently called me to the side at recess and had me discreetly dispose of a dandelion bouquet she'd collected from many an adoring student. It always bothered me that she gave me that task. I was plagued with guilt at throwing away those tiny gifts but thankful she trusted me enough to do it.
As for your poem? Excellent!
Especially,
"society is a product tailor-made by institutions
that outlive cockroaches & hell
is full of people
who will never know love when they see it,
even if they bite their tongue, trying to chew
the last of their meal---"
Wow, on that whole part. Just wow.
I love the contrasts here! The five guys with smothered burgers and the tiny girl who is affected with each bite. Very well written! An excellent poem!
you too with the butterflies, huh? :)
loved the line about society made by institutions that outlive cockroaches... you always paint a telling story, brian.
I loved the first stanza....loved the way the father and son talks about every thing.....ha...society is a product tailor-made by institutions-thats a superb line....and whole of the last stanza is so good....
So much to relish in this words in effortless meaning and poignancy all combine to linger and be felt, i loved that my friend
How did I miss this one? How did I find the end of the comment line? I forgive your native American reference and I have no native American in me! I see what you see through very different eyes. You are such a fine poet. The next book should be called conversations with my sons while watching women at restaurants. I love that these were role-playing lesbians and--instead of wondering why they take hetero power relationships into a women's world--you thought of flowers, dandelions and butterflies. You are something else, Brian! You need a Cadillac convertible! (cf the Country Rhythm and Blues album)
love is indeed where you find it...and that is likely to be somewhere drastically different than where I would find it.
your poetry is so rich and meaningful.
Wonderful. Not a hitch or halt in this story-poem. I love the way you describe a complex scene, pulling from it another layer of humanity. love your work, Brian.
Without in any way losing its distinctive voice, this poem puts me in mind of Gregory Corso. It's the making of real verse from the immediacy of the day-to-day moment. Liked this a lot.
None of my "Native American" friends want to be called that. They want to be called Blackfeet or Crow, or Lakota, or whatever. Go figure.
I have a "Five Guys" downstairs in the building where I work. They are so good and you enjoy your fries the same way as I * smiles*. The area is also residential and collegiate, so I can easily see the scene you penned as it is very much a part of my work day lunch.
"society is a product tailor-made by institutions
that outlive cockroaches & hell"
Would def be the ones who frown on such love.
It's perfectly counterbalanced by
"... a vague, lingering presence
of butterflies."
Yeah, those of us who know what love is weeds and flowers and cornerbacks in all its glory can feel this.
Your son is lucky to have a father who understands and can articulate this.
love how you end it ... another wonderful piece.
I read somewhere that a weed is "a right plant growing in the wrong place." When I read this piece, I remembered that line. And butterflies never discriminate between plants . . . they just fly on.
Joy always,
Susan
Love that advice. Hope you had a lovely weekend. Wasn't long enough, right? ;)
Life and love, around us all, in every moment. It's just that some of us (you;) are better at the seeing part.
On a side note, I so enjoy the rich comment thread on your posts. You've built something quite extraordinary....
Must pay attention to the difference between weeds & flowers, yes. However, an affinity to cacti instructs
respect for weeds...
Must pay attention to the difference between weeds & flowers, yes. However, an affinity to cacti instructs
respect for weeds...
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