Join Diane (who started it all), MotherOwl, Mimi and me as we shoehorn our thoughts and feelings into poetry form. Delores, at Mumblings, has made the decision to leave Blogland; last week's Monday poem was her final contribution. It couldn't have been an easy choice and I, for one, will miss her quick wit and wonderful poetry very much. (In unsurprisingly related news, I hereby wish a pox on trolls and hackers; long may they burn in Heck ...) All the best to you and your family, Delores. You can always return to our wide-open arms if you decide the coast is clear.
If the rest of you would like to give Poetry Monday a try, you may leave a poem in the comments or post on your own blog; if you do the latter, please drop a note in the comments so we can come along and read and applaud. Use the topic or choose any other; this is meant to be a fun exercise and we don't get all uppity about rules.
So many directions to go with this wide-open topic!
And yet ... there's really only one way to go when you're an introvert, like my husband and I both are, living in a town run by extroverts.
Let me explain.
Our town is host to many events starting in May and continuing through September. Every other weekend there is something Big going on. It's great for those who enjoy festivals and races and fireworks and endless eating and loud music and crowds of people, but for others (like us) it translates into noise, noise, and more noise, plus traffic jams and frequent street closures and detours when we are trying to get to work and do errands, and a feeling that the town we moved to thirty years ago has changed significantly without any input from the quiet people who chose it because it was quiet.
So . . . where some folks see "a good time", we see raucous, boozy events; where some folks who have moved away find joy in "coming home" and partying with other returnees in the summertime, we can't wait for them to leave us to what is now our home; and where some folks happily gather in herds and mobs and masses, we stick close to home and wait for the end of summer and for them to disperse. There have been more than a few evenings this summer that I chose not to take a walk because I didn't feel safe being alone and running into shrieking groups of people that I could hear in the not-so-far distance.
Come late September, peace will return. I just wish we had more of it in the other months of summer.
Whine, whine, whine.
Maybe if I write a scathing poem I'll feel better. That's how it works, right?
Oh, okay then, maybe not scathing, but definitely not singing the praises of the frenzied pack :)
Thank you, Diane, for giving us this topic. I've been wanting to write about this for some time now but needed a reason to do so.
I Know, I Know -- #First World Problems
All winter long I savour thoughts
Of springtime warmth and garden pots
Of yard time and my gentle walks
Of porch time and our quiet talks
But then the month of May arrives
And "fun" events disrupt our lives
Instead of days and nights of peace
They're full of noise that will not cease
Crowds a-roaring, music shrill
Streets hijacked to feed the thrill
Designated drinking zones
And endless booming microphones
All summer long I harbour thoughts
Of punching idiotic sots
Of cutting the electric wires
That feed performers' amplifiers
But, breathing deeply, I resist
(That doesn't mean I do not hiss)
I look ahead to just one thing --
Relief that summer's end will bring
For when the summer "fun" is done
Our autumn peace will have begun
Ahhhhhhhhh . . .
Maybe it was scathing after all. So hard to tell when your hair is standing on end, along with all your nerve endings.
Onward ho! Next week's topic, chosen by yours truly, is ......... BODIES OF WATER ....... big ones, small ones -- let your imagination roam.
Here's hoping your upcoming week leaves all your hairs lying down nicely :)