dressed up with petty pink
flourishes and tucked inside her
wicker basket. She plops fat on
a spangled, off-center perch
while surrounded by tangles of
circular mirrors, each reflecting
his fragmented eye. “The fluid
mechanics of my camera’s
lens imbues its gaping human
subject with a soul,” this caged bird
sings, just as he’s coached her.
She doesn’t require very much
care -- a few scattered meat-filled
husks and white space for flapping
her clipped-tones -- but reluctantly
Johannes must set Prolly free
to wing it openly upon
the waves of patterned noise
his vacuous glass can’t see.
This week's Poetry on Wednesday Prompt is a photograph (click the link to see it). Don't ask me what leaps in logic my mind made to get to this poem, it's hard to explain.
13 comments:
Too much, or lack there of, of coffee?? I love the way your mind works. So creative. ~Kay
This poem makes me laugh. I wont pretend to understand it. I know Prolly is not a bird....maybe the proletariat thrown a few survival
husks destined to be free by Johannes. Now who the hell is Johannes? The only Johannes I know is Brahms. Johannes is probably the name of a mad American senator or general or someone. Anyway I liked this regardless.
Obviously, you don't keep your poetical prowess tucked in the basket with Johannes' theory! Bravely done, Francis!
Caged birds sing the blues; freebirds fly high and rock 'n' roll.
Francis this is splendid but I must confess to not knowing who Johannes is either!
Pamela
@Kay I've been off coffee for almost a year now, so I can't blame this on any chemical substances :).
@Rall The name Johannes just popped into my head as I wrote the first line. Perhaps it's an unconscious reference to Dr. Faust? Prolly is more a play on the slang for "probably". The piece is most influenced by an article I read about data-driven science, where raw numbers are crunched to find patterns that would otherwise escape our notice.
@Derrick Old Filbert does have the run of the place around here.
@Stan But the blues influenced rock and roll ;).
@Pamela See my comment to Rall above... maybe Faust, but probably no one in particular.
a poem out of data-driven science. sure, why not? not certain what I think of theory in pink frills, though.
Don't think I ever heard it called "plops fat"
Like everyone else, I didn't understand it but I like how it sounds when reading it.
http://thelaughinghousewife.wordpress.com
Surreal, dude. That's what cool people say when they don't get something, but like it anyway, right? Am I mixing eras?
Nicely done, Francis!
this is so soulful...
an iron dress put on a delicate soul...
Very surreal and has a great feel to it! Love your language and images...and especially the spoken words in this poem. Wonderful!
@Barbara In science as in all things, it's all about the packaging.
@lhw Sometimes my poems are even beyond my own understanding ;)
@Brenda I think I lived through that era...
@hb That's a perfect description of a robot :D
@Robin Thanks!
Sufficiently interesting to merit multiple readings, each resulting in different interpretations. Really liked: mechanics of my camera’s lens imbues its gaping human subject with a soul - which is the opposite the usual direction the information flows. Thought provoking!
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