Perle Champion

feel like a newly
budding
growing
flower
reaching upward
toward
the
light
drinking I the
moisture
breathing in the
air
doting on the
tender
loving
care
once quashed or
overlong
untended
content to die for
now and
sow my seeds
in
other
fields

morning crept across
the lawn, tender tiptoes on
wet grass, chill shudders

breezes shake dew from
leaves, wake slumbering flowers
in their beds and me

shaking the cobwebs
of dream off to greet morning
toes meet on dirt paths

all the lonely people
such a sad parade
high struttin’
peacocks
mousy little
sparrows
they’re all on and
the performance is free
for me and
you if you care to
see
just don’t look in any
mirrors

bacchus takes over and
the fountains of escape flow free
the show goes on and
the games begin and
in ones and twos they leave
all but one will be back
tomorrow

A recent comment on my poem entitled ‘Poetry’ (“I love this definition”) caused me to think about my definition of poetry and its place in history and our lives today.

Poets around the world have used poetry as a tool to expose injustice and tyrants and incite insurrection.  They’ve risked their lives and freedom to comment on the inequities they witness.  I see song lyrics as poems.  I’ve always been fascinated by the words of the singer/songwriters from ancient bards and balladeers, to modern folk singers, 60’s and 70’s protest singers, etc.

Poetry whether read, spoken or sung has throughout time been a vehicle for social commentary or a simple oral recounting of our history.  These beliefs gave rise to the following poem I wrote in 2007 while attending a Blues concert in Phelan Park, Southside, Birmingham, Alabama.  I don’t remember the name of the blues man, but I remember feeling his words and story, and the faces of the audience, some absent, and some so present.

The Bard

The Bard’s song is
a piece of soul sung out loud
to the absent crowd
through time, the bards cant
the deeds, tell the stories
preach the morals, ask the questions, make the protest.
They strum the heart strings
touching part
of the common fabric of our being
reminding us of the one song
the uni-
verse.

©2007 Perle Champion

I wonder at my propensity
to spend time like so much
loose change
feeding the voracious
vending machine dispensing time
consumed on the run
without second thought
and little memory