tom soup prompt

signs

this morning i had the distinct impression
god was trying to tell me something
as i set off for work, turning to my car
i was startled by a grey, folded bird
low and laborious, banking without grace
dangerously between two blunt gables

and now, as i sit waiting for boot-up
i'm shown a long squadron of canada geese
beating wings in close wedge formation
past my window. it's like he's saying
''look what i can do!'', and i'm thinking, yes,
very clever - now go tidy your room!


most things I try of the creative kind I do so because look like immense fun: photography, sketching, doodles, haiku and haigu, photo montage and writing essays. there are a lot of things that I haven't tried that look fun too, mostly the work I see on other sites kept by creative and expressive people. I hope to get my house in order one day so that I'm free to indulge in these other things.

But I haven't the foggiest notion why I should want to try poetry. It's not like I enjoy it, it's not in my innate nature, it's unfamiliar, alien, inscutable, unecessarily obscure most of the time. However, there are times when I feel I have to give it a go because it's the only way to express the point. I think it has something to do with truth but I can't be sure. The verse above is about two incidents and one reaction which occured this morning.

God hates me because I haven't got a hole, so he's scheming; ''I'll show him up with his puerile verse for the fool he is!'' He does that, you know? Sometimes.