Poetry from Thailand

Original poetry written in and about rural Thailand.

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Location: Chong Khae, Nakhonsawan, Thailand

Sunday, February 2, 2014

To Be A Poet




 One of my earliest memories
is waking from a nap and looking
out a low second story window
in a house I otherwise do not
remember.  The window is open
and the sound of spring gently enters
the room.  My mother is talking to
a woman on a porch of another
house in back.  A huge white sheet
hangs flat from a clothes line beside
her. I can not see my mother, but
I feel her smile . . . but the white
sheet, glorious in the New Hampshire
noonday sun transfixes me to believe
my world is now safe for words.

This memory is almost seventy years
old as I sit in the shade of my patio
looking out  at rai upon rai of even,
green rice fields.  A gentle breeze
as if moved by the wings of a million
butterflies runs unimpeded over the
flat fields to me and to nowhere else.
Like memory itself the breeze reminds
me again that the world for some lucky
ones will be forever safe for words.

FG     2/2/2014

A rai is something less than half an acre (2.4 rai = an acre).

I was watching a science program which suggested that recognizing color occurs at the same time we begin to recognize words.  Speculation may not be much in the way of poetry, but . . .  Burn It Where It Lays and Fire are two other poems where I diddle with this theory.

The butterflies are from the chaos theory which I think I use in the poem about Mrs. Zeller.  This chaos theory can’t work every time, so there should be a theory for a lesser god, no?

Got the miseries, again.  AKA gout attack.

1 Comments:

Blogger Marvin Lowe said...

In much of your poetry lately you reminisce of Goffstown, home and family. I don't know if you done this but Google earth is a great way to see how it looks today. I just searched on Spring St, Goffstown and went to street mode and 'walked' up and down spring street. You can pretty much 'walk' anywhere downtown. Mr. Gordon's house with the big barn across the street from your house looks pretty much the same as it did in the late 40's & early 50's when I spent summers there. I learned to ride a bike on Spring St. with my cousin Bessie's bike. Many great memories for me as well on Spring St.
Marv Lowe

February 5, 2014 at 11:21 AM  

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