This is a small poetry club that started as a poetry email exchange between two friends. Our goal is to read a poem everyday, and this blog is one way to help keep us accountable. There is only one valid rule in poetry club: there are no rules in poetry club. Read any poem, in any order, with any or no interactions. You decide. We only suggest you read poetry!
Left lost luggage at a station,
One piece of flotsam at sea,
Never to feel integration,
Everything drifts endlessly,
Lugging a suitcase of sadness,
Yearning for someplace to be.
What was in the suitcase? Lugging something from somewhere in between...did he not want to leave or not want to stay? Proverbial luggage, emotions, feelings, that do float around...often lost....until we try to find them again and sort them out.
And always that yearning...we do feel the yearning, the pull...of these lost suitcases...wanting to end up in the hands that need them the most, that are most helpful. Can we sort these out on our own or must they go through security and get stored in an airport office for months before finding their way back to us? The accumulating dust allows us to see the dust, to wipe it off, and then open the suitcase.
Sounds like a lost soul. Drifting and never integrating. Maybe this loner could find a community online?
I can't think of any time in my life when I didn't feel apart of multiple communities. Sports, military, school, family, friends, drunk, runner, hiker, traveler... Poetry Club!
Definitio- flotsam: "anything from a shipwreck"
ReplyDeleteWhat was in the suitcase? Lugging something from somewhere in between...did he not want to leave or not want to stay? Proverbial luggage, emotions, feelings, that do float around...often lost....until we try to find them again and sort them out.
And always that yearning...we do feel the yearning, the pull...of these lost suitcases...wanting to end up in the hands that need them the most, that are most helpful. Can we sort these out on our own or must they go through security and get stored in an airport office for months before finding their way back to us? The accumulating dust allows us to see the dust, to wipe it off, and then open the suitcase.
Sounds like a lost soul. Drifting and never integrating. Maybe this loner could find a community online?
ReplyDeleteI can't think of any time in my life when I didn't feel apart of multiple communities. Sports, military, school, family, friends, drunk, runner, hiker, traveler... Poetry Club!