http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber
Copyright R. N. Taber 2020
Who doesn't love blowing bubbles?
Whoever, wherever we are in the world, whatever our socio-cultural-religious
or, yes, sexual persuasion it is an opportunity tomindulge ourselves in being ourselves;
nor is it ever too late to learn certain dance steps or re-learn them, as the
case may be ...
“Dancing in all its forms cannot be excluded from the curriculum of all noble education; dancing with the feet, with ideas, with words, and, need I add that one must also be able to dance with the pen?” - Friedrich Nietzsche, Twilight of the Idols
"Two bubbles found they had rainbows on their curves. They flickered out saying: "It was worth being a bubble, just to have held that rainbow thirty seconds." - Carl Sandburg, Bubbles, in 'The Complete Poems of Carl Sandberg'
"Miracles happen every day. They bubble up from their hidden source, surround us with opportunities and disappear." - Deepak Chopra
This poem is a kenning.
FOREVER, BLOWING BUBBLES (ON CUE)
“Dancing in all its forms cannot be excluded from the curriculum of all noble education; dancing with the feet, with ideas, with words, and, need I add that one must also be able to dance with the pen?” - Friedrich Nietzsche, Twilight of the Idols
"Two bubbles found they had rainbows on their curves. They flickered out saying: "It was worth being a bubble, just to have held that rainbow thirty seconds." - Carl Sandburg, Bubbles, in 'The Complete Poems of Carl Sandberg'
"Miracles happen every day. They bubble up from their hidden source, surround us with opportunities and disappear." - Deepak Chopra
This poem is a kenning.
FOREVER, BLOWING BUBBLES (ON CUE)
I
creep up on cold feet
(love
to blow bubbles in a cynic’s face)
lead
them a lively dance
away
from querulous urban sprawl,
where
open spaces beckon,
prose
fields beside satire’s streams
where
songbirds give the lie
to
dashed hopes, impossible dreams,
cruel
whispers in the ear
Oh,
how I love to play games
(preferring
pretty bubbles to drab tears)
especially
hide-and-seek
among
trees looking on with a grin
where
open spaces beckon;
though
telegraph poles might trespass,
along
with mobile phone masts
and
utility pipelines crowding our space,
we’ll not let them get to us
I
play tricks on cold feet
(bubbles
like eyes winking mischievously)
lead
them a lively dance
away
from heads-you-win-tails-I-lose
looking
glass wars
in
dusty rooms, opening up windows
to
let back in the heady smells
of
honeysuckle and freshly mown grass,
Earth
Mother in on the game
Call
me Passion, whose cue the lyre of Eros
arousing its life forces for better, for worse
Copyright R. N. Taber 2020
[Note: This poem also appears on my general poetry blog today.] RNT
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