Chapter 6 - The Sidewalks of Life

On Turning Ten by Billy Collins

The whole idea of it makes me feel
like I'm coming down with something,
something worse than any stomach ache
or the headaches I get from reading in bad light--
a kind of measles of the spirit,
a mumps of the psyche,
a disfiguring chicken pox of the soul.

You tell me it is too early to be looking back,
but that is because you have forgotten
the perfect simplicity of being one
and the beautiful complexity introduced by two.
But I can lie on my bed and remember ever digit.
At four I was an Arabian wizard.
I could make myself invisible
by drinking a glass of milk a certain way.
At seven I was a soldier, at nine a prince.

But now I am mostly at the window
watching the late afternoon light.
Back then it never fell so solemnly
against the side of my tree house,
and my bicycle never leaned against the garage
as it does today,
all the dark blue speed drained out of it.

This is the beginning of sadness, I say to myself,
as I walk through the universe in my sneakers.
It is time to say good-bye to my imaginary friends,
time to turn the first big number.

It seems only yesterday I used to believe
there was nothing under my skin but light.
If you cut me I could shine.
But now when I fall upon the sidewalks of life,
I skin my knees. I bleed.

-----
Links:
I Wept Not - Chapter 6

Billy Collins
Billy Collins - poems, books and recordings
Taking Off Emily Dickinson's Clothes by Billy Collins
Poetry 180 Project
-----

Chapter 7 - Lightning in the Dark

Flowers by Dennis Roy Craig

I have never learnt the names of flowers.
From beginning, my world has been a place
of pot-holed streets where thick, sluggish gutters race
In slow time, away from garbage heaps and sewers
Past blanched old houses around which cowers
Stagnant earth. There, scarce green thing grew to chase
The dull-grey squalor of sick dust; no trace
of plant save few sparse weeds; just these, no flowers.
One day, they cleared a space and made a park
There in the city's slums; and suddenly
Came stark glory like lightning in the dark,
While perfume and bright petals thundered slowly.
I learnt no names, but hue, shape and scent mark
My mind, even now, with symbols holy.

-----
Links:
I Wept Not - Chapter 7

Dennis R. Craig
Dennis Craig: An exhibition of flowers
-----

Chapter 8 - When You Wake Tomorrow

When You Wake Tomorrow by Brian Patten

I will give you a poem when you wake tomorrow.
It will be a peaceful poem.
It won't make you sad.
It won't make you miserable.
It will simply be a poem to give you
when you wake tomorrow.

It was not written by myself alone.
I cannot lay claim to it.
I found it in your body.
In your smile I found it.
Will you recognise it?

You will find it under your pillow.
When you open the cupboard it will be there.
You will blink in astonishment,
shout out, 'How it trembles!
Its nakedness is startling! How fresh it tastes!'

We will have it for breakfast;
on a table lit by loving,
at a place reseved for wonder.
We will give the world a kissing open
when we wake tomorrow.

We will offer it to the sad landlord out on the balcony.
To the dreamers at the window.
To the hand waving for no particular reason
we will offer it
An amazing and most remarkable thing,
we will offer it to the whole human race
which walks in us when we wake tomorrow.

-----
Links:
I Wept Not - Chapter 8

British Council, Contemporary Writers - Brian Patten
Brian Patten
The Mersey Sound
-----