Saturday, May 17, 2008

"What hurt you into poetry"?

I think my first inklings of the poetic occured when I lifted a stone and an earwig scurried blindly towards safety, his dark sanctuary violated in an uncouth and violent fashion. That and the sea anemone at the bottom of a rock pool, inhaling and exhaling rythmically.

I like poetry because it can interrogate the everyday; see the significance in a callous, question a glib gesture, take pleasure in a well baked loaf. It is a function of intelligence, but is also rooted in an ache below the left nipple and always pays due heed to the musicality of which the tongue on the roof of the mouth is capable.

It is a useless thing and, as such, necessary.

7 comments:

MJ said...

Had I seen the earwig I would have been inspired by Ogden Nash...

Some primal termite knocked on wood
And tasted it, and found it good!
And that is why your Cousin May
Fell through the parlor floor today.

-- Ogden Nash

KAZ said...

Well - you are waxing lyrical today Garfer.
I shall make more effort to seach for the significance in glib gestures and Hovis.
Thankyou!

garfer said...

That was a just back from the pub post. Waxing lyrical whilst inebriated is a speciality of mine.

Arabella said...

I'll have what he's having. Ta.

Herge Smith said...

As always Garfer your posts are their own kind of poetry.

You have a beautiful turn of phrase.

Piggy and Tazzy said...

Poetry is for poofs.

garfer said...

Ta Herge me old mucker.

In that case you should be appointed Poet Laureate forthwith Piggy. The Bard of Barnsley.