Idiotropic

Drop In Ocean – © Bill Martin 3.2012 * All Rights Reserved

You fly at me with your words
and we’re dancing in thoughts
swirling in the now of them.
They slide off my slinky dress
or stick somewhere back of
that earlobe where you fix your
gaze when you want to stop time.
Meanwhile, I slurp up your ideas
sharp as crunchy bits in the
cool gazpacho this steamy day.

Why fix us against a corkboard
when our thoughts were meant
to fly with bright butterflies.
Why pin us down like a corsage
wilting on a cotillion breast.
Melodies waft across the
misty psyche of our minds.
We drip the music of the moment,
catch a drop that would change oceans,
tame a mockingbird that could
fell mountains with a wing’s touch.

© Gay Reiser Cannon * March 26 2012 * All Rights Reserved

56 thoughts on “Idiotropic

  1. sharp as crunchy bits of gazpaucho…ha…nice description…why be pinned to a cork board…i dont know many that would want that…i will say there is def a specialness to having the connections and in those a different kind of freedom…

  2. Gay, the poems I’m reading today are simply superb pieces of dVerse-ities, and I love reading yours! Due to my age and love of life I have experienced many pleasures and situations…but never have I felt the sensation of a lady’s ‘look’…
    “…somewhere back of
    that earlobe where you fix your
    gaze when you want to stop time.”

    WOW! Sometimes I wish I had been a girl–WAIT! I TAKE THAT BACK!–grin!
    Blessings!

  3. The mental love poems are indeed the most heartfelt, the most intransigent, and in this case, the most beautiful. Every phrase here is drenched in yearning for the impossible possible, the illusion to be real, just once, and so in this poem, you make that happen.

  4. Why am I thinking….To His Coy Mistress…here….gather thy rosebuds….or shaddup and let’s make love…! Isn’t this what you’re saying,,,but in the modern poetic vernacular? So well done…sheez…wish I could write this way. Well, someone has to! Absolutely gorgeous piece! Thank yoooooooo!

  5. This swept me off my feet with its very lovely description of that eroticism that is dance. You have numerous great lines, but the ending is simply stunning:

    We drip that music of the moment,
    catch a drop that would change oceans,
    tame a mockingbird that could
    fell mountains with a wing’s touch.

    Taming mockingbirds, that’s some music!

  6. Fabulous writing Gay…I felt my tongue crunching specially with these:

    Meanwhile, I slurp up your ideas
    sharp as crunchy bits in the
    cool gazpacho this steamy day.

    I am happy you are writing more regularly now…the muse is back ~

    • Yes, Grace – Good to be at the homestead alone for awhile. I have had some time to think, as well as get necessary things done. Can’t promise how long it will last. Thanks for visiting and appreciating my offering today. Sending hugs, G.

  7. ha nice…love the gazpacho…and heck yes… Why fix us against a corkboard
    when our thoughts were meant
    to fly with bright butterflies…. we do it way too often, don’t we…? is it fear? is it small thinking? i’m not sure…but def. heck…yes…change the ocean with that drop.. and..i’m having a wonderful time in nyc…somehow strange, but i feel quite at home..as if i knew her forever…smiles

  8. In the I Ching, there’s an Inner and Outer World arrangement to the hexagrams, and the former is skewed from the latter just a notch, but significant enough to read things entirely different. So between lovers there is that notch of difference that means the common ground (bed, conversation, ding-dong day-to-day) is a shifting, perplexing, difficult terrain, never quite resolute, ever wholly to one or the other’s satisfaction. Here I get a selkie singing to her landlubber mate, where what is most intimate (and liquid, and musical) to one is most distant (and rocky and sure) to the other. Worlds apart, though love keeps the two singing to each other. The selkie makes such a sacrifice, coming in from the sea; the lubber flails in the watery element of her song, where the meters have no floor or walls. So it goes. Fine bit of fin flashing in the moonlight. – Brendan

    • Exactly. The song is everchanging, and the music frees. He who is given freedom, never ventures far. So tying her to her human make up is stifling for the selkie soul that would be most creative, most useful, most fulfilled with periods of free ranging solitude. Lovely the way you put it, B.

  9. Why fix us against a corkboard
    when our thoughts were meant
    to fly with bright butterflies.
    Why pin us down like a corsage
    wilting on a cotillion breast.

    This poem spoke to me about the moments we spend dreaming and never acting- moments talked about in close clutch holds, during pillow talk, during sunday afternoon walks- and yet we are guilty- or at least i am- of pinning them, as you say, to the corkboard….somehow i need to find the guts to act on them- because then i could live the last lines of your fantastic poem.

    Just on an side- you were right about in your comments about my poem- it was self examination- i used the narcissus picture just becasue i liked it I dind’t realise there might be a seen linkage to it until you mentioned! thanks for pointing out though- and for your extremely thoughtful comments :)

    • Thank you for yours. It make me happy that has found favor with my fellow poets. It came quickly in a time when I’ve been struggling to find anything to say or new ways of saying it. Much appreciated.

  10. Gay, you write with a truly authentic and original voice. I’m always impressed by your arresting imagery and startling juxtapositions. Very skillfully constructed with a true poets understanding of ‘form.’
    Brilliant!

  11. Gay, what a magnificent piece you’ve created. I love it! Thank you for sharing, and thank you for letting me in your neighborhood. ;)

    “Why fix us against a corkboard
    when our thoughts were meant
    to fly with bright butterflies.”

    • You forced me to the dictionary and there I found definition 4: “to produce or suggest through artistry and imagination a vivid impression of reality:(a short passage that manages to evoke the smells, colors, sounds, and shapes of that metropolis).” Thank you for both!

  12. You posted this for OLN but it fits the “Live in the Moment” prompt so well, too. This has got to be one of (if not THE) favorite of your always-wonderful poetry, Gay. But I’m a sucker for sensory detail and this excells..

  13. wow, the power of a moment

    that second stanza just builds!

    and love,

    “We drip that music of the moment,
    catch a drop that would change oceans”

    though only a little more than some of the other beauties in your poem ;-) thank you ;-)

  14. LOVE this:
    “I slurp up your ideas
    sharp as crunchy bits in the
    cool gazpacho this steamy day.”
    Just crazy-good.
    And charmed that the word mockingbird was in there, when I bounced over from my own mockingbird poem to read you. ;)

  15. some lovely, lovely imagery in this. especially liked the earlobe as a point for fixing gaze to stop time, and the wilted corsage on cotillion breast…

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