Tom Miller Poems - 1997

Continued Further Still

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the greatest poem in the world

 

one day

i will write

the great poem

my master work

 

not today

 

 

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the new guy

 

in our writer's group

we critique poetry

so the poet can

improve the poem

 

for this to happen

the poet must suspend

his ego and prepare

to be ripped to shreds

 

the reward is that the poems

may become better and

the poet may become a

better writer as well as a

better critical thinker.

 

enter the new guy.

 

he has decided his work

is exceptional, like he's

going to come in and

allow us the privilege of

his skill and knowledge

 

he reads his first poem.

i look at jim, and he looks

back, we both look at ron,

and then the three of us

look at jen. there is

going to be trouble.

 

i would strike the poem, jim offers.

it doesn't ring true. in fact, it doesn't ring.

 

jen chimes in, economy. too wordy.

your words cheapen the poem.

i don't get it, says tom.

am i supposed to get it?

 

ron adds, you have a number of inaccuracies,

misspellings, and misuses of grammar.

 

jim reiterates, strike the poem.

 

the new guy seems offended,

as if, how dare they. that's the last time

i bring perfect work to a criticism group.

 

he never came back.

his other poems must have stunk.

 

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the taste

 

of all the memories--

she most fondly

reflected on the

quiet summer days

when mother picked

berries from bushes

and placed them in her

wicker basket to use

for jams and jellies

 

she would follow

close enough to

snatch one or two

and put them in her

mouth, tasting the

sweetness of a

naturally pure thing

 

the only pure thing

she ever had in her mouth

of all the memories

 

by the barn

uncle dan leering

 

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what beautiful have you left

 

the wet sick taste of rotting fruit

gray brown grass once green

sky field of haze burnt umber

 

hot dusty riverbed

memory of living things held in stone

shadow silhouettes where people once stood

 

now in her eyes

trust given to tears

 

what beautiful have you left

 

when winds no longer whisper

through woods

 

when sunlight illuminates no color

or warmth

 

when

 

alone

 

we wander

 

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zen swingset

 

several children

went out to the park to play

 

but the swing set had

the seats and chains removed

for safety concerns

 

so the children sat

beneath the A-frame

in the lotus position

 

and contemplated swinging

until they got bored

 

and went home

 

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