for the Defining Poetry contest, the Everglades |
Wetland We have no mountains rising to the sun the eye arcs north and south across a river of grass, the palm trees and mangroves sluicing the sky as we drive the Tamiami Trail. Over and over, the children ride the dragon coaster at the Everglades fair unknowing that beneath them rides the vouivre , a coiled serpent of telluric currents full of the earth's energy. Our watery world floats on shell mounds left by the Calusa centuries before and one perfect storm might erase us, too. The wet center is endless and may not hold. Written for:
I was hard pressed to create an entry for this week's contest with time constraints all around. I wanted to capture the flavor of this week's contemporary poet Seamus Heaney and his poem "Bogland". He captures a poetry of place in this piece with rich, vivid language. Butter sunk under More than a hundred years Was recovered salty and white. The ground itself is kind, black butter Melting and opening underfoot, Missing its last definition By millions of years. I also loved the last line of this poem "The wet centre is bottomless". I live in SW Florida, and my heart is here, near the Gulf, the Everrglades, and this rich area of wetlands. I have made only beginning, halting attempts to capture a poetry of place....again this is a beginning...an exploration. I used Heaney's opening and last lines as starting points for my poem and hope to grow into his rich imagery. |