NO THOUGHTS WITHOUT WORDS
The words gather
My skin wrinkled
Yet I feel young
Just off stage
I don’t remember the years
That passed by
Out of sight
Perhaps we waved from afar
As we crossed paths
Knowing each is perfect
On my last birthday
I celebrated all 77
For the job required
There has to be something
A token, a memory…or skin
They tremble in their knowing
Where we have been
And for how long
Like children in a school play
We walked this long and winding road
The unexpected happens
Twittering laughter whispered
Memories created
Stored in a box
The curtain holds their secret
Unimportant ones
And precious ones
When called
So tender they can’t be touched
Produce tears if you dare
Each will appear
All wrapped in the skin
That holds me together
To be weighted and measured
The outside wall of my being
The ideas that run ahead
Tried on for size
Secreted in the protective skin
That is me
May 24, 2018
Paul asked us to write a contrapuntal poem.
In terms of poetry composition, the contrapuntal relies on both poems working as distinct entities as well as in conversation with each other. The third poem that emerges is one that results from the movement back and forth between the two poems.
It took a few drafts to realize that this poem was a contrapuntal, that there were multiple tensions trying to resolve. I wanted to write a poem that could contain the individual emotions I felt that night. "Aubade Ending with the Death of a Mosquito" was written in the intersection of many borders: in a waiting room poised in the present moment, waiting to dive back into the history of the past so that I could write what I learned into the future.
You can take two of your own poems and combine them to create a third or write two new poems to create a contrapuntal.
