[stylist] Poem - "Pool" - Second Draft

Barbara HAMMEL poetlori8 at msn.com
Fri Jun 26 01:31:17 UTC 2015


Well I remember those days of those small pools. Now we are 18  feet by 48 inches deep. And, oh, the drenching is much more thorough. In that three-foot pool I could walk on my knees and be in up to my chin. In this 4-foot pool, I can do an adapted treading water and not touch bottom, pretending to be in the ocean. No, the salt-water pool is not near as salty as the ocean and its 85 degrees is probably a lot warmer than the ocean, too. But I can pretend.
Barbara

Sent from my iPhone

> On Jun 24, 2015, at 23:37, William L Houts via stylist <stylist at nfbnet.org> wrote:
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> Hi Poets and Scribes,
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> Here's my effort for today.  It came as a great relief because I hadn't been able to write a single poem for about two weeks, and that always makes me feel a bit plugged up and nauseated--I'm betting you know the feeling.  This ones about our little rubber swimming pool, just purchased last week.  I recently wrote another poem about water and I'm thinking of combining these two plus a third, if I can come up with one, and calling it "Three Poems about Water".  I've always been impressed with Margaret Atwood's great cycle, "Five Poems about Dolls", and lowly scribbler that I might be, I aspire to be accounted, some day, as belonging in the same solar system as Ms. Atwood, even if out there somewhere in the Oort Cloud, LOL.
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> --Bill
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> *Pool*
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> Twelve feet by three our pool:deep
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> enough for a leisurely dunk or even a dive
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> if our splash is not too radical, ecstatic
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> in feeling if not in form.But today,
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> late afternoon, I lean over and bring the cooling
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> earthjuice up, waxing baboon mad and shaking
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> my hair free of drench, rinsed in the living wet,
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> sweat and chill drops from red self raining
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> onto brown grass praying escape
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> from the harsh, the stiff and scowling drought
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> without whose face the summer grace of sun
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> would ape the other months and by them blandness cry.
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> And so I burn with joy, and salve myself with washings cool,
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> and nominate to pauper sea, our ocean toy, our pool.
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> -- 
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> "Oh, Sophie!  Whyfore have you eated all de cheeldren?"
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