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| Carol Waller Youmans |
About Poetry Making
When I picked up my pen,
I thought about reading to 34 earnest ears
Circled in a room
(If Jeannie forgot to come)
And I missed them so much
That I picked up the phone instead
And called a friend
I haven't talked to
in months.
Carol Youmans
I’ve written about this before,
But you haven’t heard how poems
Have driven me from bed to pin the words
Down before they pop like bubbles and wetly disappear.
I wrote once that a poem had written
Me one morning:
“the words bubbled up in finished wholes,
clean as though I’d read them.”
Morning moments on just waking are rich for me:
Images shimmer airily behind my sleep-slugged eyes
And if I don’t have a fast pen
On the floor near my bed and something to write on,
They’ll get away – swept out of my head
By the day’s bright start and a cat
That needs feeding.
Carol Youmans
Barton, August 2017
Take down the
Sleek
Shrieking
Emblems of greed and corruption
Degrading the ridges’ calm
By humans so far removed from nature’s touch,
Perspective, alignment, understanding,
They destroy rather than revere.
They think when God gave them dominion
(as the scriptures say)
She meant exploiters not stewards,
Reverence, honor, humility, not slaughter.
But they will not destroy the earth.
Earth will win when our teeming terms shut down.
When the last of the swarming, brawling, quarrelling race
Asphyxiates or starves or drowns,
The earth will go on serene and free of mange.
Carol Youmans
Barton, August 2017
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