I’ve been thinking
imbibing those nascent things
in a pantheon of doom
suffused with light.
I’ve been missing
the one with the tattoo,
full of grunge,
and humor, and darkness,
inside my vertiginous eye.
I’ve been sleeping
with the meteorologist,
whose predictions are an assemblage
of signs, from God,
who’s everywhere,
in the crevices of light & darkness,
in the falsehood of ceilings.
Process notes: The image prompt from We Write Poems is an iteration series by Fred Muram. It’s full of surrealistic suggestions, and mine is only one suggestion, against so many other probabilities/possibilities. You can read the others over at We Write Poems on Wednesday.
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Hello Irene: I get the same kind of vibe from your poem that inspired me to write mine. 2012 — it’s everywhere. Is it doomsday? That’s up to the human race to decide. Is the meteorologist a true scientist or just another false prophet? Another question to answer. A beautiful interpretation of the photo, Irene.
-Nicole
Don’t believe so, Nicole. I don’t have much faith in meteorologists as well. I like where the ceiling took us, nonetheless.
I like where the prompt took you, Irene. The third stanza is especially interesting, and can be read more than one way. I like it.
Oh, I see what you mean.
I’ve been re-reading your poem, and can’t quite wrap my head around why I like it a lot. I suspect it’s something to do with the juxtaposition of pretty darn serious ideas like signs from God, with the almost whimsical act portrayed in the photo.
Sam, Maybe it stimulates a region in the brain cortex that’s seldom stimulated?
Your beautiful interpretation of the picture couldn’t be further removed from mine, which makes me ashamed of my frivolity!
I happen to like frivolity, Viv.
“full of grunge, and humor” I just love that.
also, the title.
Yup, I played with the ideas playing in my head.
Love this, Irene. Your second stanza is wonderful.
Pamela
The one with the tattoo doesn’t really exist, or does he, Pamela?
Whoa…..your tattoo laid bare. Much to do about a lot here. I love the meteorologist analogy. It’s storming in my realm, but the only sign I ever find of value is the thickness of the coat on a caterpillar. “inside my vertiginous eye”, you go girl.
Regards,
Don
Don, me have no tattoo. Low pain threshold. Why are you thinking of caterpillars? Now I want to write about a caterpillar.
Interesting poem. I liked it very much…
opposites
Thanks for liking, Gautami.
I love that title. Makes me wonder if there is a series lurking somewhere. Sleeping with, walking with, bathing with, eating with … ?
Well, not really. I’m still dreaming about getting a series going.
You know … you don’t have to limit yourself to meteorologist. Wouldn’t it be fun to pair all kinds of unconventional things? Baking with the geologist … Car repair with the poet …
Oh yes, yoga with the cartographer, whaling with the chef, etc, my oh my. Now, how to make meaning with pure randomness…that’s a challenge, if my poor brain can stick to it, I agree it’ll be a wacky series.