I'm a little bit overwhelmed these days, and not keeping up much online. There are so many new things to learn and so much work to do. I haven't even been around to read everyone's posts the past few weeks. And next week I'm hosting, so I need to get my act together!
This evening we had a summer thunderstorm here in Asunción, and I went looking for a thunderstorm poem. I found this one, by Judy Longley, published in Poetry magazine in 1999. It begins this way:
Thunderstorm the Day the War Ended
Arkansas, 1945
leaden heat explodes into quicksilver
a confetti parade the cottonwood flings
when the radio shrills good news
chickens blossom like chrysanthemums
I love how this poem juxtaposes the ordinary summer evening with the aftermath of war. Even when it's over, it's not really over. Every stanza has some subtle reminder of that. The poem made me think of the terrible war going on now in Ukraine, and the ordinary lives disrupted by it. Click through to read the rest of the poem here.
This week's roundup is here.
7 comments:
It's heart-breaking new every day with the war. The poem is lovely, to think only of the laundry on the line would be a blessing. I understand that you are swamped with "new", Ruth. Wishing you better every day, too!
I have a heavy heart for Ukraine. Well chosen poem, Ruth. The lines "empty sleeves waving/ trouser legs goaded into dance" is quite the image.
Ruth, it's good to see you back here. Praying for a peaceful and productive transition as you get used to Asuncion. Thanks for hosting next week. Blessings to you!
That is a poem to linger over, one that invites rereading. Thank you for sharing it with us today. I hope the "new" slowly becomes "familiar."
I think there's a lot to take away in between the lines of this short lined poem. I like it's enjambment and breaks within the lines, I see that very much relating to war, then and today, thanks Ruth, I'm looking forward to your post next week.
Thanks for this one, Ruth. You found a beauty.
Ruth, if only peace was on the horizon. This poem brings the ordinary life to view amidst war talk. Sometimes, I sit and think how cozy my house feels and how I should not complain about the slow healing of my eye. There are real issues in this world that need settling. Thanks for the poem. I understand about busyness and how it interrupts life.
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