One
Hundred
Concrete years
In a body of water
Two women walking
One in turquoise taupe
The other in peach mauve
Briskly yelling into cell phones
Their voices trailing off like crows
Squirrelly trees stiffen tall tail stillness
Writing is hard work, the experts tell us
If a day is lost to writing the reason
Is probably you did not want
To write, after all
You probably
Wanted
A park
Bench
To sit
Still.
Path from steps to upper swings.
Eastside north / south path to top.
Poetry fans gather for poetry reading in the park.
Cherry tree at top.
On the way to the park in the evening.
Evening in park.
Park lamp.
The Coming of the Toads 
Turquoise taupe and peach mauve :( remind me to avoid those two. Liked the poem though.
Thanks, Jane. Neighborhood of eclectic dress. Congratulations on poetry month of writing.
It was intense, but great fun. We get the eclectic dress round here too. There’s a big African population and they have the weirdest dress sense ever.
An excellent poem – unwritten.
Ouch!
;)
Thx for stopping by!
Hi Joe – Your brother Kevin directed me here because we are cousins. I haven’t had much time to look around (even though Kevin told me about this quite awhile back). I don’t know if you and I have met or not. The last time I saw your parents was many years ago when my father and sister were visiting, and we came over to Ione to visit. (I live in San Francisco.)
I am so pleased to see that there is another Linker poet besides me. Keep up the good work.
Richard
Hey, Richard! Thanks for checking out the blog. Will get hold of you. So great to hear there’s poetry in the family. Check out John’s blog if you get a chance. Poetry, music…must be all the sunshine.
Hi! Joe,
Love your parks and although the faces were hard to pick, the poetry fans looked familiar.
Your poem was great, just impromptu and as if you decided there and then to take a swim in a cold lake. Loved the rawness of it – but of course it was elegant.
If I could find Portland on the map I think I would like to visit your parks and meet your possum(big squirrel) residents.B
Hey, B: Yes, poetry fans the same the world over, empty venues. Unless you include lyrics. That same little amphitheater with the empty benches fills up in the summer, with live music from the stage I’m standing on to take that photo. There are two Portlands, a winter one, and a summer one.
There is 4 Melbournes, hot one,cold one,wet one, dry one.
That’s just the days and then there is the seasons.
We have poetry slams here in Aus. where budding poets get up and strut their stuff to an audience of passers by. A bit like poets corner in London I guess.
Seems odd to have to slam poetry, but there you are. I would have thought its a bit like having fast food when you have the ability to prepare a gourmet meal.
For mine, I prefer the more luxurious poetry, the stuff of meditation and contemplation.
Can’t help but think of Simon and Garfunkel when I see a vacant park bench. It always makes me sentimental for old friends and special moments. If but the benches could speak they would cry loud for warming.B
Bookends – the S&G album. Have not listened to it in awhile. Great album. “America” on that album, and the zoo song … Poetry slams popular these days. Have not been to one. It tries to create a dynamic that moves away from the stereotypes. If benches could speak – thought for a narrative there, church pews, for example. Baseball dugout bench. Bus stop.
great post…well done
Like the contrast of the brisk yelling and the stillness. Are the invisible poets on the park benches.
Going back to your other comment, about “displacement or distance can get closer to the core of a theme….” That’s maybe the walk in the park.
:)
You are so talented.