Come what may,
So I may dream,
Birds may fly,
Do you have any questions?
And I am Mrs. Smith.
There is nothing here,
But there is always something,
What would a pigeon know?
It's not yesterday,
And I am Mrs. Smith.
But what you said before,
Did you say something?
It's raining, it's pouring,
Not a bird in the sky,
And I am Mrs. Smith.
Who am I?
Fly me to the moon,
I am flying high,
We're all going down,
And I am Mrs. Smith.
I noticed a theme of birds/flight in this one. It seems to cast light on questions of identity. The way I read it, birds and flight are symbols of unique identity and pure greatness. The Mrs. Smith figure represents ordinariness and doubts about your ability to the fly. The pigeon is something in between -- it is capable of flight, and also of profound, garbage-eating ordinariness. The poem seems to identify you with the pigeon. Your life rests in the space in between pure greatness and utter ordinariness.
ReplyDeleteJust please don't start eating garbage. It could be harmful, and any harm done might slow down your writing of poetry!
That should say "doubts about your ability to fly." I don't know why that "the" ended up in there. I haven't watched The Fly in ten years.
ReplyDeleteAlso, I'm a jerk who just stole your theme of flight juxtaposed with garbage eating to make my own poem, because I'm a smelly carrion bird.
http://writebrainedjr.blogspot.com/2012/10/why-i-write-part-x153-carrion-bird.html
The idea of birds didn't have any significance to me as I wrote it, but when I went back and read it I saw I had something going on with birds and freedom there.
ReplyDeleteMrs. Smith as a character is definitely someone struggling to find their identity.
I love how you read the pigeon. I hadn't seen it like that but I think you are very right about what it represents.
Your downfall in the reading is you seem to be wanting to read me into this but for all of these I tried to somewhat separate myself from the speaker and this is the one I feel most separate from.
Oh, but the author is always in the poem, regardless of her knowledge or consent!
ReplyDeleteAnd now this poem is your fault, too. I think I must be sick.
ReplyDeletehttp://writebrainedjr.blogspot.com/2012/10/why-i-write-part-x155-i-am-no-man.html