Refuge Poem by Jonathan Aaron
Refuge
The rain lets up. Bright shafts of sunlight
plunge through shiny leaves of birch and white oak.
I turn off the lamp on my desk as the birds
start up again, a woodthrush, a baltimore oriole.
How I like it here in my cabin in the woods,
a glass of water within reach, a kettle on a shelf,
coffee in a tin if I want to brew myself a cup.
I'm blind to this sort of 'poetry'. I like the sentiments but don't feel I'm reading poetry. Poetic notions, yes - poetry, no. It's poetic prose. Does it matter? Depends what you're looking for. Whatever, it's nice writing and leaves a nice taste in the mouth. I particularly like the one about cooking an omelette.
A poem is valid if it leaves the reader waiting for the other shoe to drop. This does.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
4/25/2024 8:52:35 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Me again. It strikes me that my last comment (" I'm blind to this kind..." ;) kind of resembles the poems of John Aaron! No, I'm not saying I can write like him - just that it's possible to write 'poetry' of this kind by accident. Particularly by finishing with a short gnomic phrase. At the end.