Kalamazoo and Timbuktu
Kalamazoo and Timbuktu
Are real places, through and through
Shangri-La's a legend
Cuckoo-Land's a dream
The dark side of the moon
Only astronauts have seen
I hear that New York's sleepless
I hear that Ireland's green
But there are nearer places
Where I have never been
The snail curled in his silence
The rabbit in her hole
The ants inside their labyrinths
The goldfish in their bowl
Live lives more strange and wild
Than any human tale
Lives as full of wonders
As aliens, or whales
And you live in your name
And you live inside your skin
And no one can come with you
No one can come in
Though we're all alone together
All dreaming the same dream
We don't know where we're going
We don't know where we've been
So we keep on telling stories
We keep on naming names
We keep on asking questions
We keep on playing games
____
I really don't know why I'm writing this stuff. I have long and passionately argued that kids should get the real thing -- should read "This is Just to Say" and "The White Horse," and "My Love is Like a Red Red Rose," and "The Second Coming," and "Making a Fist" and "The Fish," and "Romance Sonambulo" and even "Go Down Death" -- instead of the usual pap spooned out for them.
Of which this is a reasonable example, though perhaps a bit more chewy than the worst of it.
4 Comments
Pat pointed out to me that adults also like nonsense poems! All ages like the Walrus and Carpenter and all Canadians like Dennis Lee. So why not your nonsense poems too? I love them!
Children are often given pap, and always pap in poetry it seems. But I remember reading books of troubled kids, and death, and tough times in my classes. I don’t know how much has been changed by ‘concerned parents’. But I recall that poetry was supposed to be light and airy. It was a strange contrast to be a child with that when in religion class we sung songs about saints who died gory deaths. And to have images of the sacred hearts, with thorns, fire, and blood.
Children who are very very young perhaps cannot handle that sort of thing, they need to learn and be gradually introduced to concepts. That does not mean sheltering them until they go to college and suddenly stumble upon a rich, harsh world.
p.s. I like it :)
This isn’t nonsense at all: I find it thought-provoking. You’re causing the reader to confront names, ideas of place and their own sense of self. I really, really like this one.
Please don’t be offended, but this one reminds me of song lyrics. I can see it being sung by a female soloist, and it’s got a bit of the light and airy to it, but as you go further down, she turns on her angry, cynical voice, and by the end of the poem, I’m in love with the songstress. Nope, no hidden meanings in that image!