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The Smallest Thing


dr_con
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The Smallest Thing

 

Up early

drinking coffee

reading poetry

rolling a smoke

before I sit

practicing nothing

nothing to practice

but a rough guide

this wanting to wake

fully engaged

in this game

this living

 

Let me be free

of the wrongs and rights

the story of not choosing

the weak pre-dawn light

the cracked cup with the

proud rooster the mess

on my desk the discomforts

of love the shelf of straw hats

and white clothes above riotous

jumbles of colors discarded tools

awaiting their ecstatic fate as symbols

those fusions between animals and gods

The moment shouts Too much Too much

just return to the beginning heart’s reason

for seeking the question suspended

the origin of words liberation may

depend on this choice

to get up early

drink coffee

write poetry

roll a smoke

and sit

 

only to

practice

a small

thing.

thegateless.org Come on over and check out my poetry substack y'all;-) Or if your bored, head to the Zazzle store: https://www.zazzle.com/store/gateless. If you buy anything I lose a bet, so consider that before you violate the digital rules.

 

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Hi Dr_con,

 

The smallest thing is actually the baggiest thing - fully engaged in this living. I also like how the ending comes back to the beginning, making it a circle, a circle of our lives.

 

Thanks for the thoughtful read.

 

Lake

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hi Dr C.

 

I enjoyed the engaging simplicities of your poem:

 

Up early

drinking coffee

reading poetry

rolling a smoke

before I sit

practicing nothing

nothing to practice

but a rough guide

this wanting to wake

fully engaged

in this game

this living

 

but then I felt distanced by the declarative:

 

Let me be free

of the wrongs and rights

and having to sift through the clutter of:

 

the story of not choosing---------------opened my mind

the weak pre-dawn light

the cracked cup with the

proud rooster the mess--------------closed it again

on my desk the discomforts

of love the shelf of straw hats

and white clothes above riotous

jumbles of colors discarded tools

awaiting their ecstatic fate as symbols--------opened my mind

those fusions between animals and gods

The moment shouts Too much Too much----------an echo of Eliot, which I like

just return to the beginning heart's reason

for seeking the question suspended----closed my mind

the origin of words liberation may

depend on this choice

to get up early

drink coffee

write poetry

roll a smoke

and sit

 

Loved the ending. You do work the reader, so please disregard my whinging! Or perhaps this reader is not lazy, but just needs a few directional props - like punctuation?

 

badge

Edited by badger11
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Thanks Tony- A bit on the too busy madness side these days, without good reason- But good to see you all. Thank You Lake! And Badge- Thank you for the close read and excellent engagement- Your reading reflects the change in perception I was playing with including the loss/gain of attention;-) As to the punctuation- I may return to it at some time :icon_redface: But currently enjoying playing the way Merwin does- By no means as adeptly, but it does have its own discipline-

 

 

Many, many thanks all! Hope to catch up soonish;-)

 

DC&J

thegateless.org Come on over and check out my poetry substack y'all;-) Or if your bored, head to the Zazzle store: https://www.zazzle.com/store/gateless. If you buy anything I lose a bet, so consider that before you violate the digital rules.

 

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goldenlangur

Hi DC,

 

I love the sparseness of your first stanza and the closure is fabulous - your poem evokes the Zen sense of being in the moment and seeing beauty and meaning in the ordinary things of life.

 

 

 

Thank you.

goldenlangur

 

 

Even a single enemy is too many and a thousand friends too few - Bhutanese saying.

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  • 2 weeks later...

Juris, I loved this poem. Simplicity makes this poem succeed. You have made some good symbiosis with the lines.

I have kind of similar rituals when I up early. But that is very few times, not so often I am up that early :). Thanks for sharing.

 

Aleksandra

The poet is a liar who always speaks the truth - Jean Cocteau

History of Macedonia

 

 

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I enjoyed the way this eases into a conglomeration of urgent morning thought patterns, which seem to prod and poke like a sharp stick, before giving way to the constraints of reality. Benjamin

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I got the sense of this one immediately ... all those lists of things in the middle followed by a simple return to the opener, the waking, the coffee, the roll up, the possible promise ('damn all the clutter!') of the day ahead. I haven't commented on your poems for a while not really knowing what to say although I read them religiously. This one really struck a chord. Very very nicely done!!

Edited by dedalus

Drown your sorrows in drink, by all means, but the real sorrows can swim

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  • 2 weeks later...

Thanks All! I appreciate the feedback- Been a bit off of late but things are looking sideways;-)

 

Good to see you all!

 

DC&J

thegateless.org Come on over and check out my poetry substack y'all;-) Or if your bored, head to the Zazzle store: https://www.zazzle.com/store/gateless. If you buy anything I lose a bet, so consider that before you violate the digital rules.

 

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Iconcur much w/what others have said, but badge has a point re those two lines. To maintain the excellence of the rest, I'm sure you cand find something to replace those two lines to escape an odd break in what the pundits would call your emotional consistency.

 

For a change, the profile of a female breast seems to fit, because it is one of "the little things" that count!!!

 

And you have managed to masterfully avoid punctuation. In most cases.

 

Suggest you check if "the heart's beginning reason" would not be more telling than "beginning heart's reason". The latter is Latvian, methinks.

Edited by waxwings
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