Plum Tree Books Blog

"Where Words Grow On Trees"

Why Do I Love Poetry? Jim Bauerlein

It is my great pleasure to introduce Jim Bauerlein to the plum tree. I love the quirkiness of this poem, the sudden turn mid-way to introduce the metaphor. Thank you Jim for writing our poetry corner in such a poetic way. I thought this image might suit Jim’s piece, as he gives us all a great big hug from the page.words-12

Jim has told me that one of his favourite poems is Ramond Carver’s Gravy, so I have posted it for you Here.

Gravy by Raymond Carver.

No other word will do. For that’s what it was.
Gravy.
Gravy, these past ten years.
Alive, sober, working, loving, and
being loved by a good woman. Eleven years
ago he was told he had six months to live
at the rate he was going. And he was going
nowhere but down. So he changed his ways
somehow. He quit drinking! And the rest?
After that it was all gravy, every minute
of it, up to and including when he was told about,
well, some things that were breaking down and
building up inside his head. “Don’t weep for me,”
he said to his friends. “I’m a lucky man.
I’ve had ten years longer than I or anyone
expected. Pure Gravy. And don’t forget it.”

Why do I love poetry by Jim Bauerlein

Why do I love poetry, why do i love the air? Take it away, and you will know. Gasp for breath. The light goes , grayness falls, then I am in a funk.

Yes, a dark hole. No coming out today. Logic wins, consistency, that hobgoblin, wins.  I go sit in the corner.

Why do I love poetry, why do I love you?

Oh I just do dear, just do.  Its in the curl of your lip, maybe the sun on your skin.

The turn of a phrase.

I love what is in between the words.  Pointed beyond the words, behind and underneath.

Why do I love poetry? Because I am  confused.  I cannot find my way in the world,  whatever I say seems often  wrong,  misunderstood , fraught with contradiction and then…

Ah ha: A scribbling of marks  supports confusion..Lets me see how much I love you when I hate you, How I can be afraid and brave. How my old face in the morning mirror is the face of God.  How my dogs heart beats still, so long after he has left this world.

Poetry  makes it possible for the truth to vibrate in my soul, helps the sun to rise.

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About niamh clune

I love to write in childish rhyme I really do it all the time A Doctor and a Nana too 'Tis on the plum tree that I grew! Before we go any further, I must let you into one of my secrets. When I was little, fairies lived at the bottom of my garden. I used to talk or sing to them quietly (as fairies don't like shouting). And when dew covered the grass and made it glitter and sparkle, I knew the fairies were preparing for a shindig! Everyone knows that when dew is on the grass, fairies have their choice of the most beautiful sparkles imaginable. Fairies might wear peony or iris sparkle. They might wear rose or violet sparkle. Boy fairies wear shamrock and shiny breeches of bark be-dewed and made smooth and slithery ~ great for sliding down mole-hills! Fairies always throw parties in celebration of dew, as fairies love nothing more! They drink it, and it makes them giggle! They wear it, and it makes them shimmer. Dew really is the diamond in the fairy-queen crown. Apart from anything else, dew means it is a new day, and fairies love the time before dawn when they can flit and dart ~ flicker and start; hover and whiz ~ zip and fizz; float and flash ~ make-a-dash; tease and prance ~ skip and dance; hurry and scurry ~ all of a flurry; rush and rail ~ skim, speed and sail! The very best Leprechaun fiddlers play the most lively jigs. Elf harpists pluck at your heartstrings and weave magic in verse. Goblins are, by far, the best drummers, whilst meadow sprites have very high, reedy singing voices ~ almost inaudible to all but the very trained musical ear. Usually appearing on percussion are the cobbler gnomes ~ with a-clink and a-clank, whenever needed, and in perfect time. All in all, fairy gatherings are a sight to see ~ for those able to see them. I spent many an early morning dancing to the tunes of the little people. Very soon, they began to trust me, (Fairies seldom trust humans, as humans do very strange things to fairies and to fairyland), but I could dance a fine jig, pirouette often, sing a long song and recite a poem, all of which is of very great interest to fairies. They taught me some of their ancient secrets about bees and butterflies, worms and magic bears who know such an awful lot about everything. They also taught me secrets about science and the sky, and how to grow up into someone who is wise (wise enough to still believe in fairies). I like to share some of those mysteries with boys and girls (and grown-ups who still have magic in them) who are inquisitive but can also keep a secret. Sssssssssh! Promise you won't tell anyone... Are you ready? Now listen well, to the stories I will tell...

7 comments on “Why Do I Love Poetry? Jim Bauerlein

  1. thiskidreviewsbooks
    November 27, 2013

    What a great poem. It’s kind of sad, though.

    Like this

    • ontheplumtree
      November 27, 2013

      Yes it is sad Erik…from someone at the other end of his life.

      Like this

  2. Gladys Potts
    November 27, 2013

    Fantastic! The turns, the edge, the love for what brings buoyancy.

    Like this

    • ontheplumtree
      November 27, 2013

      OOH! Gladys, so nice to see you here. Thank you for the lovely comment.

      Like this

  3. Patricia Tilton
    November 27, 2013

    There is something quirky and loveable about his poetry! Loved them both. And, you picked the right photo to accent his work.

    Like this

    • ontheplumtree
      November 27, 2013

      Thank you, Particia for your visit. Always great to hear from you.

      Like this

  4. Imen Benyoub
    November 29, 2013

    Poetry makes it possible for the truth to vibrate in my soul, helps the sun to rise.

    totally believe in that, welcome to plum Jim, what a delightful piece of your soul you shared here xx..

    Like this

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This entry was posted on November 27, 2013 by in Guest Authors, Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , .
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