I typed this poem in microword this morning, before my first cup of coffee and without my glasses on. I wrote it last night before retiring, after reading a selection of Pablo Neruda poems about the sea... this poem is about trees...lol.. sea.. trees... where's the connection... there isn't...
I saved the poem and was just now going to post it on a few poetry message boards, luckily I proofed it and.. to my horror found two freudian slips... can you find them? lol... I think they're great, because of the context they're in...
Prison of Pines
I have returned again to the prison of the pines,
swaying in humidity’s arms; summer’s embrace.
Rough bark gray with lichen, is harsh on my cheek,
a stubbly kiss etching its mark.
I am solitude, the resounding muteness of voice;
a wood imp whose dance is stilled in tall lemon grass.
The penis do not care that I have returned to their
wise wooden stance, to soak in their strength.
For I do not want to be cut down by life’s fury,
like a sapling under the hooves of deer and elk.
I beat my fists against their trunks, closed to me.
I will not be ignored. I am wild with rage.
Hear me, penis of summer. Know me, love me
as a kindred soul of timber, leaf and sap.
In the pine forest of silent screams,
I become wooden to my world.
~~~
should be pines not penis ...
Lorraine's comment to my mistakes: "lmao!! In the second stanza, I think it should be plural " peni" haha."
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1 comment:
well.... that poetic mistake just goes to show where your mind was ... and it was not thinking about pines... how the subconscious reveals all
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