26 August 2010

old friend

took a trip to West Hills the other day to show April a spot in the woods. reminded me of this poem i'd written about walking near there, and near where Walt Whitman was born. thoughts?

Walking in Walt Whitman’s Wood on a Warm Winter Day

Standing gazing at the island below
The shopping mall that glitters in his name
Cars that care not on what sacred ground they drive
Above all that
Kissing the sky
Thanking God for the air
Standing tall as giants
Glancing to the west
Viewing taller hills
A world away
At once small again
The roar of traffic in the distance
Reminders of a sick civilisation
Plagued with inequity to divinity
Seemingly striving for serpentine ways

Cars on the highway
To their destinations going
Off to weary worlds on Walt Whitman's byway
Maybe adventuring
More likely working
Toiling for the man
For meager pay
For minimum wage
For mixed drinks
Three-martini lunches and bar buddy bunches
Makes for fast friends
Eager enemies
Cover fees and time to tee
Just turn the page
Make the deal
Get the goods
Banks and brothels share same woods

When Whitman walked these varied hills
A time before these cars
A boy alive with fantasy
With future
Creation before a creator
Up the tallest hill
Up its tallest tree
To see
The world all around
Ships on the ocean
Glancing to the west
Viewing shorter hills
The horizon beyond which a city awaited
To the east the fish splayed out
A boy to poet's living fated
Today the poets there are few
A water tower blocks this view

(c) 2007, 2008, 2010 Kevin F. Story

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