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| "Ishmael" poem http://forum.gayleturner.net/viewtopic.php?f=30&t=3654 |
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| Author: | Bobbi Faulkner [ Thu Nov 09, 2006 8:33 pm ] |
| Post subject: | "Ishmael" poem |
This is the poem I wrote in college that really reminds me of Ishmael, and to some extent, The Poisonwood Bible. To A Dying Earth Apply a fresh coat of varnish to the inside of the mind and try not to dwell on the government plots that are everywhere. He was boasting a pretty-footed tub when his dementia started showing. And as his anti-government feelings grew, he discovered the hippie life while gunshots echoed past the metal detector at the door. Hate groups popped up, tracking the drifter's descent, and he, once meek, quiet, and overweight, grew more and more bizarre. He placed a jaunty feather in his cap and closed his eyes, listening to the distant buzz of an electric saw. As trees fell one by one in the forest, he realized that there are lots of disturbed people everywhere and individuals don't make war! Even though he never held a steady job, he tried to make us sell our cars and realize the forest, it is sacred, and society, it refuses to follow the path of nonviolence, thanks again to modern technology. And, asking himself, "Is there really a God," he realized that he couldn't escape through the section of blocked drain pipe. It was virtually impossible for debris. Because of the sleek, modern approach, water rushes out and even though he pictures himself having it, the world melts at his feet. Because nothing can be found in the flowers anymore, man can no longer hide his habits under the toads, and the goddess within is slowly dying. Fall, 1999 |
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