Song of Myself
I thought about all the places I find my soul. Surprisingly, it can change from day to day. Today, this is where I spied it. I don't think it heard me there on the stairs, holding my breath, listening to it its little song...
I found
my soul
in an attic
circa 1932,
toes naked
near a scruffy
yellow
Teletubbie,
fingers
riffling ivory
pages, Whitman
clothed in 40's
faded burlap,
once green
like the grass.
Soul voice,
undisguised,
was whisper
whispering,
gently turning
over under rafters,
urge and urge
and urging a
sweet clear
song of myself.
Walt Whitman 1940's Edition of Leaves of Grass photo, by L.L. Barkat.
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Labels: high calling blogs, random acts of poetry, Song of Myself, Walt Whitman
posted by L.L. Barkat at 3:16 PM
17 Comments:
wonderful movement
Your words..."I thought about all the places I find my soul. Surprisingly, it can change from day to day."
I know what you mean... it can be found in music (in listen to it and in creating it) for me as well... really, anything that stirs it, is where I find it.
I - my soul - NEEDED this today. It is a question I hadn't recently pondered, and yet somehow was deeply avoiding. Thank you for opening yourself to speak for Him to me. Precious, deep reaching, life giving, hope mounting again, words.
"I don't think it heard me there on the stairs, holding my breath, listening to it its little song..."
What a way to put it. This sentence is so perfect, I just want to put it in my pocket and pull it out now and again to enjoy it at will.
Lovely. I especially like the ending.
L.L., I really love this. "holding my breath listening to it's little song" such a wonderful image. "...riffling ivory pages...Soul voice, undisguised...gently turning
over under rafters," the use of words repeated "whisper whispering" & "urge urging". Reading this was like opening a gift. Thank you.
You and Walt waltz to such a song.
I hum and watch you whirl.
Reading this was like finding an old treasure or perhaps old letters which you find yourself becoming part of the story as you read each one. Thanks for sharing.
So interesting, the places we can find our soul...
I love this one. I can just feel the texture of those old pages and smell that "old book" smell. Your words weave a beautiful picture.
"urge and urge and urging"
i like that.
nAncY... thanks. Some of that comes from the original "Song of Myself" poem.
Katrina... I like the idea that we find our souls where we are stirred.
Tami... if you write a poem or even a vignette, I'll still link to you. Sounds like you have some deep things lurking.
TUC... delightful picture! You with my words in your pocket.
Ruth... it's Walt, recast. :)
Bought... thanks. If my words can be a gift, that is a gift to me!
Ann... I always enjoy playing off good poetry and creating something new.
Robin... I love that idea about old letters. Maybe that's what attics seem to hold anyway, yes?
Rain... oh, yes. Mine shows up in some strange places. :)
Erica... I wish you could hold it. It's a wonderful old book.
Laure... just a little Walt, moving in my poem. "Urge" is his word in the original "Song of Myself."
i like these words best:
"urge and urge
and urging a
sweet clear
song of myself."
i started a poem on finding my soul but i could never get past my sin - maybe another day :0)
L.L. This is such a wonderful reworking of Whitman into something all your own. Every word is laden with meaning. Thanks for urging us toward creative expression in this exercise. It is good for my soul.
it does give me an image. about finding ourselves and the song that is part of the gift we are.
"urge and urge and urging" true self ... love it! (And just looking back over other comments, I guess I'm not the only one. So there you have it.) Wanting to pay more attention to those whispered invitations....
L. L. - thanks for the inspiration. i decided to do one of my own:
http://michellegregory.blogspot.com/2009/03/buried-treasure.html
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