![20160410_094858[1]](https://shirleyjdietz.files.wordpress.com/2016/04/20160410_0948581.jpg?w=574&h=1024)
Washing over me warm
Portland’s wettest from rivers
From mountains and sky
Portland’s germs from
A Thousand hands sharing
And traveling Portland’s water
Making its coffee
Which I take in
Breathing Portland’s air
Touching its soil and
Eating its food
Watered by its rains
Food touched
By Portland hands
Washed in Portland’s water
City of Bridges over water
Over streets
City built by its water
Stand under its warmth
Drink in Portland
The Poem Hunter
(when faced with a party at which poems will be read)
How do you find a poem when
Your head hurts and your eyes
Don’t want to read
When the grass needs cutting and
Your husband is due at the airport
When it must be true and worthwhile
And makes delight in people
Who understand that sort
Of thing.
How do you find a poem that
Matches the mood or lack of one
That teaches you what you
Already know about life,
To be true, or maybe you doubt
To be true. And most of
What you read is defying your sense
Of understanding.
Others find them, but you do
Not have the patience because
You have a headache and
The lawn needs mowing. How
Do you find that one special poem when
It’s obvious you feel guilty
About not writing
That poem.
The occasion will come and
Your turn, your poem, will be something
You couldn’t find, although it is
Probably out there somewhere
It’s enough
To make you wonder if
You even like poetry. Because
Sometimes, you don’t.
Poetry is so mysterious. I love the collection of quotes about poetry on Addie Zierman’s post today, especially one by Dave Harrrity: “They aren’t silver bullets, tweetable platitudes, divine deliveries, or didactic directives that help you “be a better person.” If a poem made your world easier, simpler, or more livable, then it’s almost certain that you haven’t read a poem.”
On the Frustration of Poetry
I danced the dance
fought the fight
did the hard thing and listened to my soul.
And when it was said, I
presented it to him,
that teacher,
that Know-it-all,
that God.
And all he said (though not unkindly) was
“that poem’s not finished
keep writing.”
Shirley Dietz 2013
I Just Have to Say... 