Camy Posted May 28, 2008 Report Share Posted May 28, 2008 The Bag Lady by Camy You can see her on a park bench anywhere Pushing trolleys full of used up metal ware Muttering grimly feeding pidgeons sitting there For why ...? Who knows? Her fulsome head travels in the clouds Wild mystic dreams of Gods allowed Preaching twisted myths as all her own For why ...? Who knows? Nervous times she spins around Flesh drawn pale much like a clown Rheumy eyes beget stony frown For why ...? Only she knows Link to comment
Bruin Fisher Posted May 28, 2008 Report Share Posted May 28, 2008 .... and her name? Eleanor Rigby Nobody cares.. all the lonely people - Where do they all come from? All the lonely people - where do they all belong? Camy this is beautiful and poignant. I hope it's not a reflection of your present emotional state??? Bruin Link to comment
Camy Posted May 29, 2008 Author Report Share Posted May 29, 2008 Camy this is beautiful and poignant. I hope it's not a reflection of your present emotional state???Bruin Thanks, Bruin. I found it in an old notebook I was throwing away and spent a quiet half an hour tweaking it. As to my emotional state ... I can't see myself living out of a shopping trolley: though you never really know. ;) Camy Link to comment
Adam Donaldson Powell Posted May 30, 2008 Report Share Posted May 30, 2008 Thank you Camy -- both for the poem, and for your comment to my blog entry regarding "the urban dictionary". One does not have to be "down" to write about "bag ladies". I published the following poem in my own poetry collection and in several literary magazines many years ago: THE PRUDENT COGNOSCENTE. Strolling through the barrel-lined aisles with her ladened cart, the prudent cognoscente pauses periodically to admire alimentary delicacies in open display. She sneers at the Spanish oranges, which are bruised and overripe, and cringes at the inferior broccoli -- so yellow and dry. But her eyes alight with discovery and glee as she tosses aside the lid of the last garbage can and silences the nonsensical cravings of her refined palate with the simple charm of garden greens and aged brie. Link to comment
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