I’ve decided to start sharing poems on my blog…because I can and because I love, love poetry. In fact, though I’ve been writing fiction on and off for some time, what I used to write the most was poetry. Not the best poetry, or even close, but I loved it, anyhow.
Because I’m feeling brave at the moment and because I figure if I’m going to dive in, I might as well dive in deep, I’ve decided to start off my poetry sharing with one of my own. I wrote this poem about twenty years ago, when I took a creative writing course as a senior in college. As with much creative writing, it is part fact and part fiction, and I dedicate it to childhood friendships, especially the special ones.
Image via Unsplash/Ant Rozetsky
We had been exploring the tall, dry grasses of a field,
hoping to sneak up on some living, breathing
embodiment of our collective, eight-year-old imagination.
Instead, we came upon death, catching it
where it lingered still, in the hazy, darkly-glazed stare
that stole the youth from a calf’s large, round eyes.
Its matted black and white fur
hung in loose drapes over delicate bone-shapes.
We stared, afraid to see,
but not wanting to leave. It was too young to be left alone,
so we gathered shimmering buttercups and sprinkled them
into the air, scattering their luminous yellow
to encircle its form.
I remembered this today,
as I drove past those fields of my memory
and found that they had vanished.
A house, shining and white, now stands
where those bones, now bleached and powdery,
may still lie.
I feel that I must gather buttercups
and lay them at the doorstep.
~ H. A. O’Connor
Image via Unsplash/Sebastien Marchand
As always, thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed this first installment of Feels Friday…it’s Friday and it’s all about the feels… 😉 Hope you have a fantastic weekend!