New Poem
To Do’s Undone
Because the rain is unrelenting
Because our neighborhood is built over a stream
Because this much water has nowhere else to go
but inside, uprooting us from our foundations,
all I can think of is my To Do list undone,
pinned under the smiling faces
of a refrigerator photo magnet.
The milk and apples
unbought at the market,
The toys strewn on the floor
unput away from today’s play
not to be played with tomorrow.
Think of the poetry book as yet unread,
the stiff pages that will not reveal
an almost circle—
a half smile
drawn on the chapter opener
in orange crayon.
The cross outs and strikethroughs
the second thoughts and changes of mind,
not to mention the unsaid—can’t
say enough about the unsaid.
No day is promised. No guarantees here.
No one to tell the untold story about
the stream under the house, the high
water table, the coolness of rocks,
the certain disbelief, the murky possibilities,
the hole in the floor where the sump pump sits,
the sound of water draining out of the basement
that keeps us unsettled and listening.
Copyright 2006 January G. O'Neil
Because the rain is unrelenting
Because our neighborhood is built over a stream
Because this much water has nowhere else to go
but inside, uprooting us from our foundations,
all I can think of is my To Do list undone,
pinned under the smiling faces
of a refrigerator photo magnet.
The milk and apples
unbought at the market,
The toys strewn on the floor
unput away from today’s play
not to be played with tomorrow.
Think of the poetry book as yet unread,
the stiff pages that will not reveal
an almost circle—
a half smile
drawn on the chapter opener
in orange crayon.
The cross outs and strikethroughs
the second thoughts and changes of mind,
not to mention the unsaid—can’t
say enough about the unsaid.
No day is promised. No guarantees here.
No one to tell the untold story about
the stream under the house, the high
water table, the coolness of rocks,
the certain disbelief, the murky possibilities,
the hole in the floor where the sump pump sits,
the sound of water draining out of the basement
that keeps us unsettled and listening.
Copyright 2006 January G. O'Neil
Comments
thanks for sharing your own words today.
Sx
Hope you and your family are ok amidst all that flooding.
That line, together with the last seven lines... how apt an illustration of how wisdom and remarkable ability in handling words can so meld in poetry. ^_^ I echo the sentiments of the previous comments. You have a gift. Thank you for sharing it. ^_^