IMAGE OF EARTH AND QUILL

Guest Poet Paula Grenside



Thunderstorm

I will take off my clothes
and let the rain wash off the seeds
of dreams you planted in my skin.

Wearing necklaces of drops,
shouting after the thunders,
I'll pretend my tears are rain.

-----------

Before my mood changed the poem read:


Thunderstorm

I will take off my clothes
and let the rain dance on  my nakedness
while draping pearly dress with frantic fingers.

Wild heart will challenge thunderclap
and forge all lightning to a flashing arch
to free tormented clouds and fish a rainbow.


September, 1998


Paula Grenside's Questions:

I'm posting two poems with the same title, but different mood. The questions are:

1) Do the two versions convey the sudden change in the speaker who reacts to the rain according to her emotional upheavals?

2) Is the version without addressee more convincing?

Correspond with Paula Grenside at
l.marchesin@oderzo.nettuno.it
with your ideas about this poem.




In the mirror

my reflection 
does not want 
to discuss
the lipstick smile
or eyes that mock
spring leaves.

It strives 
to understand
why crisp snow melts
into muddy pools,
to read 
the comings and goings
of thoughts like ants
unaware they will be 
stepped upon
leaving  traces
of failure
in black pinheads.

Casting a shy smile,
I reach into my pocket,
withdraw a handful of wonders,
unceratin 
in their significance
a chocolate mouth
a fist of  heart
fragments of wings
wrapped in scribbled paper.
I toil 
to convince
stiff-necked reflection
I did not quit dreams,
there is room
to build an airport
with traffic lights
for flights of emotions.

It smiles back
in scorn
my dreams are written
with an alphabet of water,
words washed away,
life like paper
streaked
with blurred ink.


September, 1998


Paula Grenside's Questions:

1)The realist versus the dreamer. Is this concept clearly grasped by the reader?

2) Is the isolation of some words effective?

Thank you.

Paula Grenside


Correspond with Paula Grenside at
l.marchesin@oderzo.nettuno.it
with your ideas about this poem.




The Albany Poetry Workshop