The word unique is often abused and misused. Some people think it needs a qualifier as in -'quite unique, somewhat unique, or very unique.' Unique is a word that can clearly stand on its own. Something is either unique- or it isn't. End of discussion!
Sometimes we experience events in our lives that present as unique. As writers and poets, we frequently search for our unique experiences, our unique observations. We search for those things that set us apart. We celebrate the uniqueness of our life events. I consistently encourage young poets to search the realms of their experience to uncover their own unique events. I have at least two- maybe three. Things that have either happened to me, and me alone, or things I have witnessed. They are stories for another time, perhaps...
It is said we tend to tell our stories many times before we write them down. It is very much the case for the following poem. I have related this event frequently across the years as part of my glad bag of New York stories. A narrative poem suits the situation. Is this experience unique? It remains so until such times as someone else relates the exact same happening...
6.15 am Grand Central Station
I stood in the terminal of Grand Central Station
Just prior to the morning rush
A precious interval of time
before the chaos
of the commute consumes the great space.
Just prior to the morning rush
A precious interval of time
before the chaos
of the commute consumes the great space.
I am a lone figure clutching a coffee,
Gazing around,
Awaiting news of the designated platform
For my train to Pawling.
A solitary figure,
Possessed of a spritely gait
Bounds up the steps and into view.
A thin man,
Wearing a smart suit
And clutching a briefcase.
He momentarily halts,
Before turning to face the nearest smooth, stone wall
of the terminal’s perimeter.
He then places his briefcase
Gently beside him on the floor
And performs a well-executed handstand
Against the conveniently located wall.
He maintains the pose
For a good twenty seconds.
He is like a plank of wood leaning against a garden-shed.
Presently, he returns his feet to the ground
Straightens suit and tie,
Reclaims his briefcase,
And trots away to a platform of his choosing.
I am yet to witness a tree being struck by lightning
Or a bird falling from the sky in its death throes
-But I did see a slim man,
In a smart suit,
Perform a handstand,
In the Grand Central Station Terminal,
Early one morning,
-and I believe
I was the only one
Who saw it happen.
Suits me,
Down to the ground.
©Alan j Wright
It is once again, Poetry Friday and our host this week is Carol Varsalona at Beyond Literacy Link. Visit Carol and prepare to take a Gallery Walk through the 'Bedecked In Autumn Gallery of Artistic Expressions.'
Alan, what a fun story! And, yes, that does sound like a unique situation. I love the last stanza about some of the things you have not seen,
ReplyDelete"But I did see a slim man,
In a smart suit,
Perform a handstand,"
Fun and great narrative poem.
Thank you, Denise. I'm glad you view it as unique. The last stanza is about perspective and context, I guess.
DeleteAlan, that is such a great story and rendered so well in your poem! I was happy just seeing Grand Central and then that wonderful poem. Thank you!
ReplyDeleteThanks, Susan. I spent many early mornings in that amazing space across my time in NYC travelling to schools in Mahopac, Beacon, Pawling, Westchester and White Plains. I'm pleased it provided me with such a great story to share with others.
DeleteI'm late visiting on this busy day, Alan. Thanks for sharing your unique story, my big smile of the day! The ending punctuates with "pizzazz". (I've been to Grand Central, amazing experience, but did not see that man!) Have a great weekend!
ReplyDeleteGlad you made it here, Linda. Also glad it made you smile. Thank you for noting the ending. A bit of deliberate wordplay- too hard to resist.
DeleteI love your photos. When we moved to Virginia this past March, we did not have a chance to go into New York City. COVID interfered. NYC is a unique place and so is your story poem .
ReplyDeleteThanks Carol. NYC is indeed unique. Six years living and working there taught me so much about its special features, its characters and the notion of the New York minute. I filled my pockets with stories in that time. This poem has taken many years to emerge, but I remain grateful that it did eventually come into the light. A brief moment in a morning now shared...
DeleteA unique moment indeed - and I love the way you have captured it. Thanks for the smile.
ReplyDeleteSmiles are good, Sally. Thanks for your positive response.
DeleteThis is perfect! Such a great example of unique in a moment and then in your poem. And, it makes me laugh. The experience is so New York -- but also so human. And now, I've had the experience too because you share it. Thank you!
ReplyDeleteWhy, thank you, Linda. It is very much a New York moment, as you note. I captured so many across my time in NYC. It was such a stimulating environment for a writer-educator.
DeleteYou've painted such a vivid picture of a unique moment. Your final words emphasize just how unique it felt and why — I enjoyed the wordplay and also the feeling it gave that this moment was somehow tailored just for you. :)
ReplyDeleteThank you, Karen. You have reminded me of the sense one gets when experiencing a unique event, or moment in time. It does feel tailored just for you as the 'recipient' or observer.
DeleteI really love this one. How wonderful to have seen it, and how wonderful to share it!
ReplyDeleteThank you, Ruth. I do feel quite privileged to have witnessed this unique moment.
Delete