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Poetry in Progress
by Glenn CurrierIn the dough of my day
pressed and prodded
by countless provocateurs,
yeast leavening and unseen,
you hide behind ancient fear,
and in the joyful molecules of childhood.
I find you in the lingering moments.
A smile. A frown that confounds
my schooled cool reason.
Grapes, hanging heavy, beckoning.
Coral clouds singing a distant chant at twilight.
First frost. That early scent of fall
wiggling my arm with the irresistible urge of football.
I find you in the morning.
Black in the ink of discovery,
you leap out at me
unexpected
in a journal.
You are red in the cardinal.
Read in the pages of Collins and Rumi.
I find you in the aching of my joints.
You lie within the residue
of decades. In profundity
as sudden as spring rain
and subtle
as the awakening of language
in a child.
You find me when I most need you.
My gut is tightened
like the skin of a drum.
The tattered veil tugs breathlessly.
But above the dark tide
you float and find tiny strands of light
attached to my soul.
You were there all along
moving silently -
poetry in progress.
03/26/2011 Author's Note: Dedicated to the new poetry group in our town, Poetry in Progress.
Posted on 03/26/2011
Copyright © 2025 Glenn Currier
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Alison McKenzie on 03/26/11 at 05:16 PM I adore that first line! Can you send them (the poetry group) to this seaside neck of the woods? Because it sounds divine! I also loved the line about the irresistable urge of football wiggling your arm. One suggestion - the last verse, the one about sleeping with complacency - it felt like you did more telling the reader than showing the reader, and I was expecting this poem to end with a verse more in keeping with the verses before it, if that makes any sense. It's like that last verse lost the delicious tone of the previous verses, and I wasn't done tasting... :)) |
| Posted by Charlie Morgan on 03/26/11 at 06:04 PM ...already wrote a lot, dang machine ate it...so i's saying how i disagreed w/ ali[humfelt] but i saw your last stanza staying true to the theme of your posit: an existential aloneness, sorta funky, sorta normal, and very much the current mental/emotional status of seeking self-actualization, who of course is the only person? to meet it, gain it was/is Jesus. the rest of us suffer in comfort. well written, bubba. |
| Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 03/26/11 at 09:18 PM I love it. Coming back to some form of the line "I find you..." is really well-done. |
| Posted by Clara Mae Gregory on 03/26/11 at 09:37 PM I am tired and short on words tonight. May I just say "I love this"? I do. |
| Posted by James Blaylock on 03/27/11 at 07:27 AM I simply loved the feel of this whole piece Glenn. I was, right there, traveling along with you on your wondrous journey through poetry. Awesomely, awesome flow! I added it to my favorites, my friend. I'm so thrilled that I'm a member of our poetry group, as well. |
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