June Cleaver and the Soccer Moms Release Their First Single
No one heard us sing
so now we fly.
We drift through suburbia
flaunt our floating (it’s all we’ve got)
in front of the birds.
Why not?
The beautiful and drab sparrows
eat our food
dirty our walks
defy daily our call to silence.
We hold our babies to our breasts
hold our breasts
for better viewing
former rosebuds
now drying blooms
in our hands.
We fly
and boast
and dream
of being held like this
baby or breast
coddled
cradled
caressed
caught in an updraft
or cosseted in cotton.
Winged
wanton
we drift without cords.
Chordless,
we are a silent song.
So long
as we flock together
someone is bound to hear.
*******************************************************************************
Inspired, in part, by Rick Mobbs' gorgeous painting and this week's prompt at Read. Write. Poem.
so now we fly.
We drift through suburbia
flaunt our floating (it’s all we’ve got)
in front of the birds.
Why not?
The beautiful and drab sparrows
eat our food
dirty our walks
defy daily our call to silence.
We hold our babies to our breasts
hold our breasts
for better viewing
former rosebuds
now drying blooms
in our hands.
We fly
and boast
and dream
of being held like this
baby or breast
coddled
cradled
caressed
caught in an updraft
or cosseted in cotton.
Winged
wanton
we drift without cords.
Chordless,
we are a silent song.
So long
as we flock together
someone is bound to hear.
*******************************************************************************
Inspired, in part, by Rick Mobbs' gorgeous painting and this week's prompt at Read. Write. Poem.
Not to mention my obsession with June Cleaver.
Labels: birds, ekphrastic poetry, June Cleaver, readwritepoem
posted by jillypoet @ 3:06 PM
13 Comments:
Hey- anything happening on the poem-acceptance front? Wanted to tell you the mamazine and Literary mama links aren't working
Great poem, jill! I would absolutely love being cosseted in cotton, what a wonderful image.
The sound and the content of the whole fit so nicely, and really are just right with the painting, though the poem stands on its own. Good stuff.
I really enjoyed this. The second-to-last stanza is my favorite.
Yeah, I'm floating through suburbia too, now that you've got me going. This is so much like astral travel..
ay yi yi
those former rosebuds
now drying blooms
in our hands
when my milk first came in, i was shocked the first time i saw my porn star breast
and now yes dried rosebuds
i get this poem so well...
I love the variety of directions your words take me with each idea. And the play on cordless and chordless, binds it all together.
What a creative interpretation of the picture. I love the twists and turns this poem makes, just by redefining single words. Lovely.
Damn, you're good! From the clever title to all the alliteration and word play, this poem is a treat!
Love your first line, too. I've had one of Rick's images in my head hoping a cool first line would pop up but no luck. Well done!
Wonderful comment and observation of the poetry in motherhood. Bravo.
I enjoyed the poem, but I really, really loved the title :)
"No one heard us sing
so now we fly."
Yes. Lovely, floaty poem.
I love the voice in this poem, such a multi-colored tone you take on.
the sounds in this just fill the mouth...yummy
ps...I found you through Poets Who Blog...I'm on there too...
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