I'd Like to Ask You A Question

[indar]

I'd Like to Ask You A Question

You know how, after you've lived someplace
for about seven years
and got the place fixed up just the way you want it,
including the right coffee pot on your granite counter-top

and flowers blooming furiously in the yard,
not a weed in sight
and the bathroom towels and washcloths all match,
even your toothbrushes are color coordinated
and suddenly you say:
 My life has lost its meaning,
and now that vintage
chenille bedspread doesn't matter anymore

and here you are wasting your time
going to war movies because he likes war movies
and eating at steak houses
when you would prefer a little café
that specializes in kale salads with cranberries

and all you want is to be somewhere else,
the mountains maybe, where you can think
lofty thoughts among towering pines
and write poetry, perhaps, about your true feelings--
do you ever get scared
you might walk off and leave it all?


I'm supposed to be doing something I find difficult , tedious, awful, terrible, very bad and so I am practicing an avoidance technique: rewriting old poetry. Humor me.

[Colm Roe]

Hi indar,
Knowing a little of your circumstances makes this even more poignant...you haven't just lost (I'm still hoping not) a house. (And I hope all your neighbours are safe) You obviously invested part of yourself in your home. 
It is, for the most part, prose. Usually not a good thing, but it adds to the sense of doing anything to avoid the inevitable; and of it being a cathartic release. 
Yourself and Wren are in my thoughts. 
 

[indar]

Oh thanks Colm, The fires are quite a bit north of here but there have been some close calls in this area every so often. The air is so dry and the winds come up from the east and there is a sense of dread. I am most sad about Idyllwild as far as local fires go. But that Paradise fire---I hope its not the beginning of Al Gore's most dire warnings. The area I live in was once a part of Mexico and the traditional name of winds from the east coming in from the desert was "santana" (devil) winds. That's been modified to Santa Anna but we know what it really is.

[Colm Roe]

Has Idyllwild been badly affected? I remember your poem, and googling photos of it...beautiful place.

[Dave]

This indeed has abprose style but i love it. I relate to so much of it

[indar]

Has Idyllwild been badly affected? I remember your poem, and googling photos of it...beautiful place.

Yes, I can't even think about going there to see for myself. The whole mountain caught fire as well as some beautiful little valley communities that made the drive to get there so enjoyable. A lot of the trees are huge old pines I don't suppose they could green out again after so much drought and then High intensity fire. What is to become of this world?

[indar]

This indeed has abprose style but i love it. I relate to so much of it

Thanks dave,

This one is old but more and more I am drawn to narrative (prosy) poems both reading those of others and writing them for myself. What the heck. Maybe I'll get it out of my system and try to be more "poetic" later. Thanks for relating to this one.

[Matty11]

Well, whatever style it is, I enjoyed and connected. Lucid and honest.

all the best

Phil

[indar]

Thank you Phil, I appreciate the positive feedback.

[Tracy Mitchell]

Sorry I am late to the party on this one. I gotta say you write so well it never occurs to me to waste any time considering the prose content. Second person narrative works wonderfully with this. Second to the last line - consider deleting "ever", as I think that word adds needed distance.

The gradual realization that meaning has drained from life seems like clinical depression. In either case, an indescribable life disappointment. You run this through the Speaker's thoughts like a streamer.

Cheers.

T