Welcome friends...thanks for coming by. We're seeking beauty in all of creation... in our faith and our families; our art and our music; our crafts and kitchens, and even in our own backyard. We'll share a poem or a recipe, a picture or a memory; maybe a dream of how we wish our life could be. And though we acknowledge that the world can be harsh, we're keeping it pleasant in our little corner; endeavoring to keep the words from the Book of all Books: ...Whatsoever things are lovely; think on these things.

I so enjoy hearing from you...so leave me a comment; it'll make my day!

Photo: Bee and thistle: Taken high in the Cascade Mountains where there is a bee buzzing on every thistle. by Debora Rorvig

Sunday, March 10, 2013

Have I Got 'The Bighead?'

Geesh! I'm so flattered by all of the kind comments on Becky's blog about my poem!

 If Mom were still alive she'd give me a look and say, "Now don't be gettin' the bighead!"

Nope. My mom was never one to dole out needless praise or flattery. I'll never forget the time she and I went to hear the Crazy Crooners down in the reception hall at Merrill Gardens assisted living facility where she lived. They weren't really called the Crazy Crooners. I can't remember what they called themselves. It was a country-western group comprised of three old fellows and a lady. I don't think they practiced much. If they did...their short-term memories were shot because they kept getting the lyrics mixed up. One person would be singing the first verse while the other would be singing the second verse... like they just threw all of the lyrics into meat grinder and served up whatever came out! Musical Hash, that's what is was! Fortunately for them, they were hard of hearing, so it didn't phase them at all. And while I can't be absolutely certain--I'm pretty sure that the woman singer was tone-deaf. Ever heard cats mating? Given a choice, I'd go with the cats.  I 'm pretty sure I saw some of the folks in the audience remove their hearing-aids about half way through this musical extravaganza. After listening to them for an hour I started praying for a temporary case of tone-deafness!

The performance was finally over after a rousing finale of "You Are My Sunshine." (Dear Lord, how can you mess this one up? By golly, they did! Tell me, can you really make someone gray when skies are happy?) The residents who were still there (and still awake) all applauded appreciatively as they fumbled to re-insert their hearing aids. All, that is, except my Mom. She just sat there with a thin smile glued onto her face, hands clasped tightly in her lap, staring at them coldly.

"Mom, aren't you gonna clap for them?" I asked, thinking maybe she was lost in thought or something.

"No I am NOT." she retorted.

"Why not?"

"Because they were terrible. I may be old, but I am not deaf. I will not encourage them by clapping. They need to be stopped."

Well alrighty then. We didn't stick around for cookies and Sanka. We headed right back to her little apartment and channel-surfed for Lawrence Welk. She wanted to hear Norma Zimmer sing some champagne music...maybe a little Myron Florn on the accordion.

So I don't think I've got the bighead yet...but all of that flattery has got me to thinkin' that maybe I should post a few more poems. This is what you all get for encouraging me... a little literary hash I wrote for a poetry class some years ago. Maybe you should take off your glasses; it might sound better that way...

 
ON WRITING GARBAGE
 
Roll out the wheelbarrow and don your neoprene barn boots with
the red stripe around the top,
slip on your Playtex gloves and stick
a clothespin on your nose because...
 
I've been given permission
 to write garbage.
Lots of it.
 
I write
bad poems that don't rhyme,
not because they shouldn't--
but because
 I just can't think
of a single word
to rhyme
with paradox.
 
Pages and pages of nothingness,
like a Seinfeld sitcom
 I write on...
Stinking, horrible putrid stuff
about myself.
I sift through the tragedy and comedy of my life,
what's the word for that--
traumedy?
 
Looking for a glimmer of ...
well something
inspirational,
sad,
even cute would do;
but it's all garbage.
 
Not that there's anything wrong
with writing trash.
Heaven knows I've read my share
of trashy dime-store novels,
and tabloids of 3-headed babies of rock-stars-turned politician.
Why those guys get paid evades me...
(The writers, I mean,
 not the politicians.
Well them too,
 now that I think of it!)
 
My stuff, on the other hand,
is like a cardboard box
of  dusty broken what-nots
abandoned by the curb...
yard sale rejects.
"Don't bring it back into the house," I yell.
"If you try to lift the box
the bottom will fall out.
Leave it there--
  the garbage man;
will take it on his Monday run.
It's nothing but
 garbage."
 
But I'm undaunted by this mediocrity;
 'cause my teacher's given me
 the big 'thumbs up' 
which as I recall
 didn't turn out so well
when I waterskied.
I help up my thumb
and suddenly
I was being dragged through water
at 60 knots...
afraid to let go,
I bounced across the waves
like skipping stones on a pond.
 
When my instructor reads this piece
she'll probably feel like that.
But...
she'll take a metered breath
and smile,
 and choose her words with utmost care.
"Perhaps you could
 edit this...or that?"
 
So Thursday evening after work
I'll be there,
sorting through my rotten verse
and stories with
 contrived characters
whose substance is like
a straw man in a windstorm.
I'll share unsupported ideas and
unsubstantiated claims
and make grammatical faux paus
of every kind.
 
Looking for a nugget--
which; if we should find...
we'll wipe it off and hold it to the light.
Does it reflect ANYTHING at all?
 
Why yes, I think it does...
in a quirky sort of way!
I'm not really sure just what it is...
but it isn't garbage.
 
Yeah, it isn't garbage!

15 comments:

Rebecca said...

No WONDER you got so many comments! (I just returned from reading it....)

And what a hoot about your mother's comments...and so humorously told.

I enjoyed THIS poetry, too. I've always preferred this style & you "do it" well!

Anneliese said...

I'm not surprised you got so many comments! The poem is one that we can all identify with in one form or another and think about where we come from.
Your mom is funny.. l like how you tell the story!

Debora said...

Thank you both Rebecca and Anneliese! I hope to see a version of this poem from both of YOU!

Carol Kilgore said...

I love your poem :)
And your header photo.
I think I would have liked your mom.
And it was great to meet you at Susan's blog.

Debora said...

Thanks Carol! I've visited the tiki hut today... what a prolific writer you are... I marvel at your energy! Especially got a kick out of your article did I say that? Thanks for visiting!

Susan Flett Swiderski said...

No, no, no! Not garbage at all! I enjoyed your poem, and also got a major kick out of the story about your mother and the lousy musicians. Now, you've got me wondering about the time I played the guitar and sang at a nursing home. Hmmm, best as I can remember, nobody took out their hearing aids...

Debora said...

Susan, I've had some Celtic fiddle gigs at nursing homes too! Interestingly, my Mom didn't want to attend; I wonder why? I don't think you've got too much to be concerned about. You don't strike me as being nearly so old (or senile) as the Crooners!

BECKY said...

Hi Debora! All I can say is WOW! Another fantastic poem! You really are good... better than good! :)
I, too, loved the story about the lousy singers and your mom's reaction! What a hoot! And thank you for your very kind e-mail. I need to do some replying, and you're at the top of my list! :)

Bookie said...

I left a comment but it seems to have disappeared...will return again to check later.

Val said...

As for your garbage poem...I think one word can describe it: breathtaking.

I liked the Seinfeld reference.

Debora said...

Hey Becky thanks for the high praise I really appreciate it. When I grow up I want to be like you,Lol!

Bookie I looked all over for your comment and didn't find it anywhere; please please write it again I'm interested to hear what you say.

Val, thanks. I'm a huge Seinfeld fan ...probably can quote every line!

sandy said...

Great post! I. Read your poem on Becky's blog and loved it! Love your sense of humor and your writing! I'm your newest follower!
Sandy

Debora said...

Welcome Sandy! Thanks for visiting and the compliment. I'm following you too!

K9friend said...

I really enjoyed your poem on Becky's site. Looking forward to trying out that form myself!

Pat
Critter Alley

Debora said...

Thank you so much, Pat! I'll keep an eye on your site for your version of it!

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