Poetry is an ever inclusive part of my summer writes. It calls out to me to be included. In those lazy, hazy days, I shall seek it out in every corner ...
In truth, it's with me all year round, wherever I am. So, where is it hiding? Where is it to be found? Let’s investigate…
Where Does My Poetry Hide?
Where does my poetry hide?
It snuggles in snatches of conversations
floating down the street
It rocks about in my collected treasures
Junky and jumbled
I look for it in lettuce, limes and lemons
In asparagus, apples, even anchovies
It might be sealed a packet of peppermints
A jar of peanut butter
Escaping with aromatic intensity
Poetry washes up on the shoreline
in clusters of seashells
Glittering sea glass
Seaweed and wet sand
I seek it out in a song’s refrain
And voices in a playground
I find it nestling in my favourite books
It emerges in isolated words
and fabulous fragments
Angry and otherwise
It swirls in the mumbles and whispers rumbling against the internal walls of houses.
It develops in photographs that magically reveal my history
Poetry soothes me in sonorous voices on the radio
And thunders at me on stormy mornings
I can spot it in a day old newspaper article
or a marescent autumn leaf
Poetry reveals itself in my wife’s eyes
It announces itself in simple pleasures,
Or recollections of days long past
It is minute like smidgens and skerricks
Things barely seen or blown to smithereens
It is immense like boulders, bridges and reservoirs
I hear poetry in the morning carols of magpies
I wake each day knowing it’s out there
waiting for me to discover its hiding spots.
Alan j Wright
So poets bold and brave, where does your poetry hide?