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Poetry And The Practiced Art of Observation

As poets, we take pride in our capacity for close and considered observation. It is a skill we must consciously practice and hone. The senses must also be alert and alive when we venture into our worlds. We do get better with regular practice. All this is tied up in the idea of living life twice, where one experiences a moment, an experience, or an event, and then relives it through writing. The following poem owes its origins to my regular practice of morning walks. An everyday experience that delivered me words I could not deny...





Reflections On A Brisk Morning Walk

My brisk morning walk

Came with some minor revelations

Not life changing,

Nor, earth-shattering,

Merely noteworthy.


There was a singular encounter with a lone jogger

A woman, small in stature

Who passed with a laboured gait

And a strained face

Reminiscent of a failed  bowel movement.


Two young women 

Passed by jauntily

Resplendent in active wear

And incongruously vaping smoke signals

-to track their location,  perhaps.


The usual profusion of magpies 

Wandered about on the footpaths

Unfazed by my passing

As they silently scratched about 

in no rush to take flight.


The mixed responses 

Of the intermittent passers-by

-the selective mutes,

-the committed ground starers,

Some responding to my greeting

With nothing more than a brief smile

and awkward acknowledgement 

Others maintaining a frozen gaze

Like Easter Island statues

Give nothing away to a passing stranger.


A shrieking flock 

Of white cockatoos fly in

Before settling briefly 

On overhead wires

In a random stop.


Up ahead

A dog named Norman

Ignores repeated requests

To return to the side of its human.


All too soon I am home

My body exercised

My cluttered thoughts

Replaced by keen anticipation

of actions across the remainder of the day.

Alan j Wright











It is once again Poetry Friday and our host this week is Karen Edmisten. Karen's post highlights a poem of famed Irish poet, William Butler Yeats, for whom Karen is an avowed fan. Please visit Karen and find links to a host of other poets while you are there. 
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Comments

  1. Linda Mitchell3 June 2022 at 20:15

    I love how this poem has invited the reader on the walk...that dog, Norman. I think I know him! Wonderful poem of observation.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Linda B4 June 2022 at 03:15

    I often wonder, too, as I notice who makes the nod as we pass by & who seems not to see me at all. Thanks for the walk, wishing my own held cockatoos but magpies, though marked differently, greet me too. I like that you brought the rhythm of walking into the poem, Alan! Happy rest of your weekend!

    ReplyDelete
  3. Patricia Franz4 June 2022 at 08:49

    Alan, I am so grateful to hear your recounting of a mundane walk in poetry! It's how I take all my walks. And I love the glimpse of Norman.

    ReplyDelete
  4. Mary Lee4 June 2022 at 22:07

    The stanza about the responses of passers by really resonated with me. I have had ALL of those experiences on my morning walks!

    ReplyDelete

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