The Tangled Branch Discussion Forums

**by George, another good one. Love the simplicity, the image.

My daughter would like a child.

She tells me this in a café

between mouthfuls of cake

and chat about plastic,

its threat to the future

and her work as a nurse.

She assists mothers giving birth.

I am delighted and alarmed.

Grandfather is a loaded term.

 

I had thought of retiring

on the coast of France,

a thousand miles from here;

now I am not so sure.

 

Besides, in this millennial age

there is such a narrow space

for her to negotiate:

between her ambition

to be an independent woman,

and her deep instinct

to be the earth:

 

she has to hurdle

plastic filled beaches

to justify giving life

to someone who will clean up.

 

My child is already here,

and I simply ran through

the moral barriers to make her.

 

Now I am of little help to her

except to pay the coffee and cake.

Awesome insights spun together, Dave. "I am delighted and alarmed. / Grandfather is a loaded term."

I agree with Tracy.  Parenting and Grandparenting, similar but different.  You capture it well.  

#5


~

I posted my last poem very early thinking I could then take time to read some of the work I missed. I am so inspired by the company taking part in this challenge. The ambivalence toward a ride on a roller-coaster analogous to a relationship, an examination of death by our resident expert, poems of regret over past relationships and the intimate and soul-bearing language of current relationships. Characters and situations that are human and so relatable, poems that play with forms or the sounds of words. I am sorry the days flash by so fast. Last year I spent many a day post-April looking over the archived NaPo thread and reliving the intensity and good humor we shared during that challenge. This year is shaping up to be as wonderful.

Once I have a poem on here I print it off and store it in a cardboard folder.  I don't print other folks' poems, because they're not mine to take liberties with.  This years folder has only five so far.  This isn't vanity.  It's just an easier way to check back on what I've already done because by the time I'm a third of the way through the month things start to blur a little.  There is also a valuable visceral sense of achievement in seeing that slowly thickening physical pile, like watching a ream of blank pages turning into a novel day by day.

Yes, you can search on here, using a keyword or phrase, but that pre-supposes you remember a suitable key.  Sometimes all you remember is the idea behind the poem rather than the finished form.  Sometimes it's that idea you're looking for because you feel it could be explored in a different way.  It's easier, for me at least, to track down the elusive idea by flipping through a collection of physical paper pages.  Just as I prefer to proofread on paper.

I also have a little scratch pad where I jot cryptic notes, such as 'sharon - mohs' to remind me I want to comment on something when I've finished looking at the day's offerings.  Sometimes, if someone else makes the comment I had in mind, I refrain from sending a 'me too' comment.

I tick these off as they're dealt with, otherwise I can lose track because this thread gets a bit frantic and unwieldy at times.  Especially if I'm also working on something else totally unrelated.  It helps to keep things separate in my crowded head.

Gyppo

day 5

What I know

The young man, disillusioned, asked

 “What is truth?
  I don't believe anything anymore.
  They are all whores to money and power.
  Don't know what to think.
  Don't know what is real.”

 Well, young man, here's what I know:

I know good
I know bad
I know happy 
I know sad
I know peace
I know war
I know
I've been there before

I know light
I know dark
I know lovely
I know stark
I know mountain
I know shore
I know
I've been there before 
 
I know high
I know low
I know solace
I know woe
I know pleasure
I know chore
I know
I've been there before

I know sun
I know moon
I know winter
I know June
I know less
I know more
I know
I've been there before

I know warm
I know cold
I know young
I know old
I know peace
I know war
I know
I've been here before

At the end of the day, young man,
trust your eyes 
and listen to your gut.

(Today I'm coming late to the party. Thank you Tracy for inviting me into this stream. The poems are great, and the comaraderie is wonderful.)

#5 of my little snippets.

My trash can
      is down the street
luring me
       to finally meet
my new neighbor.
 

This is really special! You've got the substance and the rhythm and the sounds all working together!