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Sunday, March 24, 2019
Who Am I?
This week's prompt is from Tasha.
Who Am I? Write a poem about yourself, or if you prefer, someone else speaking as who he or she is. You might be looking in a mirror, or not...it's fun to speculate who I am depending...
a poet without rhyme a fighter out of time an adventurer lost lives life at all cost annoying yet lovable sometimes in a bubble that bursts without alarm never mean to cause harm a reader, a writer, dreamer plotter, thinker, schemer anxiety to serenity a hodgepodge of identity.
This is you and much, much more. you are also rocks and books and generosity, you are a well of information because you retain so much. Your poem was very well written but you could never cover all that is YOU!!
I deleted my original comment because I thought the desperate man who needs a decent woman didn't fit but then I realized it is who you are so it does fit in a poem about that topic. I do like the openness of this one and think you did a good job with the thoughts and the honesty.
we differ on this tash. i hate being on my own. i need somebody, or something. remember when i adopted wharf rats for company.....and i'm not talking about the dock girls ha ha . can't do it myself anymore - love paul.
just the truth vic. if my life was full and complete i probably wouldn't even write poetry. example. my new girlfriend was arrested and beaten by four cops within an hour of us meeting. yeah,. she is trouble. bites and scratches but four cops sitting on the little thing? i deal with this shit in the city every day - love paul.
I like the first one a lot. The second starts out pretty well and then goes to the "Oh poor me" theme you sometimes strum and #2 sounds trite by comparison with #1, which is honest and interesting.And as to a decent woman o set you free, sooner or later perhaps you'll figure out the only one who can set you free is you, at least in my experience if you can't do it for yourself, no one can do it for you...
Your poems consistently wow me. This one is now exception. Except I have to admit when I read the line "Other parts stretch themselves endlessly" I thought of Reed Richards, i.e. Mr. Fantastic from the Fantastic Four.
Who am I? I really don't know An afternoon matinee or a traveling show A rabbit out of a hat or a shining beacon I know I'm daft but, I could have been a deacon
Things aren't always as they would seem My reality might just be someone's dream I delude myself with my noble intent Never once forgetting to collect my rent
I deserve my due, I tell myself once more watching needy people passing by my door Are we who we think we are or is it an illusion Created by insecurity for mutual insecurity
What I can tell you for sure about who I am is that I advocate tolerance and give a damn I care about environment and freedom of speech And I know a few things that I'm trying to teach
I'm a guy that tries not to hate If I tell you a time I won't be late My word is my bond at least to me A priority of mine is trying to be free
I love the arts and grand beauty of life I love my blessing of a wonderful wife My life is full of family and friends With all of them around, the fun never ends.
I am glue and clay, candles and scent, beads and flowers, little, tiny, miniature things just satisfy my being
my violins sing merrily and sometimes match the gloom of a day I'm banana bread and fudge and more kids than I can count giving me hugs and love and smiles and life is oh, so good!
I kinda like “little, tiny, miniature.” Not quite sure why. I agree with Victoria that there’s something a little too much at the end, but I’d handle it differently, i’d leave “and more kids than I can count” but I’d cut everything after it. Don’t tell too much. Let the reader imagine the joy of all those kids. Following “banana bread and fudge,” which is a lovely line, the trader is encouraged to I,anime good things, and the hugs and love and smiles will come to mind without you having to spell it out. Which is to say, there’s no one right way. Victoria’s advice is good, mine might be good, neither of them might be right for you, but they might get You thinking.
It took me too long to find this, but I knew I had it somewhere. It was a poetry exercise I did with my writer's group when I was still teaching high school. It's from a book by a friend of poet friend of mine. I can't find the book, but this was written out in a spiral notebook, so this is the first time anyone but the writer's group has seen it.
Who Am I?
I am a pack horse, carry heavy loads and small children.
I am vanilla ice cream, the base upon which elaborate confections are built.
I am tossed salad: a little Spanish, a little Irish, a few other nationalities mixed in for taste.
I am the PA system in a high school, full of important information but no one listens.
I am tie-dye, still stuck in the '60s.
I am the smell of a weekday meal; not sweet, nothing special but makes you want to stay for dinner.
What if you cut out all punctuation and as many explanatory words as possible? Made everything sparer? I am a pack horse heavy loads and small children
Believed, deceived, love betrayed, hearts dismayed, creatures of our own devising ignorant of the design.
Amazed we roam amid cobwebs of the past secret tangles. We see what we believe. Hearing has little to do with ears, and more with accustomed patterns, fixed notes and rhythms of yesteryear. We dance accordingly.
Yet I understand that who I am was molded by hands that guided me when I was too small to make my way alone,
and I am not cast in bronze. I am fluid, malleable, plastic, able to leap to my own conclusions, and land safely where I want to be; able to learn and grow from experience. I can remake myself in my own eyes.
Who I am is who I wish to be. One minute a good girl, doing what I am told, another a wild child acting bold. Or else I may be old, or sometimes young, even if I can't climb trees any longer.
I have many faces, play many parts. Some of them are silly, I don't mind if people laugh I'll laugh along with them. Singing my way through brambles and tangles and lovely bright air my song says, "I'm me."
Thanks Vinny, I look forward to gettting to know ou a little too. And I really do think your poem is special, and sas quite a bit about ou, too. Thanks for commenting.
Your Life is just a grain of sand I am one A grain of sand I am small but I am big I can make this grain of sand I can be a great grain Or just a grain of sand Drifting in the wind of life. As I look into the sea I am small in a beach of many It will not be easy to become a great grain I can be washed away by the rain Or I can be one that controls my being I have an uphill fight to shine as a star Can I be a diamond of just a simple grain to drift afar.
Who Am I?
ReplyDeletea poet without rhyme
a fighter out of time
an adventurer lost
lives life at all cost
annoying yet lovable
sometimes in a bubble
that bursts without alarm
never mean to cause harm
a reader, a writer, dreamer
plotter, thinker, schemer
anxiety to serenity
a hodgepodge of identity.
a warrior poet in the classic sense - love paul.
DeleteCovers a lot of ground. Nice job.
DeleteThis is you and much, much more. you are also rocks and books and generosity, you are a well of information because you retain so much. Your poem was very well written but you could never cover all that is YOU!!
DeleteYes, Linda is right. This is you. Especially writing a poem in rhyme with a first line "a poet without rhyme" Love it.
DeleteI love this one it is you. "live life at all cost". that's you Bonnie
DeleteNice one! I like how you build to the ending. and the rhyme scheme is great--you are NOT a poet without rhyme!
ReplyDeleteSTARS AND BARS
ReplyDeletewho am i?
possibly the last of my kind
i like a star in my eye
and old movies make me cry
i like paper that is unlined
i like old books
that smell of mold
and rarely do what i am told
i like when clare
gives me sexy looks
though her marriage isn't fair
recently became a pussy cat owner
now i'm no longer a loner
i like a drink
and a think
i like that amanda's nose is pink
i'm a changed guy
from what i used to be
after the two times i did die
all i really am
is a desperate man, who needs a decent woman
to set me free
i try to me a nice decent man
but it's like jumping out of the frying pan.
I deleted my original comment because I thought the desperate man who needs a decent woman didn't fit but then I realized it is who you are so it does fit in a poem about that topic. I do like the openness of this one and think you did a good job with the thoughts and the honesty.
Deletei am a desperate man, who needs a decent woman. computer problems in the library today. hope this works - love paul.
DeleteNice imagery in this. I especially like the image of unlined paper. It kind gives the shape of your freedom.
Deletei do tend to drift off to the right on unlined paper, but....why not. who says lines have to be straight. thanks vic - love paul.
DeleteTINY CREATURES
ReplyDeletewhat is it about me?
why do all tiny creatures trust me and see things i cannot see
tiny cats
tiny rats
tiny dogs
tiny frogs
tiny women
tiny wren
i dream about them
when i am in r.e.m.
my family is dead
my life is empty
even though i am well read
i'd rather be a tree.
" wasn't born, so much as i fell out " - lost in the supermarket - the clash
huh? sorry but you totally lost me with this one. not sure where you were going with it. but good rhymes.
Deletei was going in to a bottle of italian wine with this one ha ha. but i do love tiny creatures. tiny creatures define me - love paul.
Deletewe differ on this tash. i hate being on my own. i need somebody, or something. remember when i adopted wharf rats for company.....and i'm not talking about the dock girls ha ha . can't do it myself anymore - love paul.
DeleteAgree with Tasha about this one. You could just sing the song "Poor, Poor Pitiful Me" and be done with it.
Deletejust the truth vic. if my life was full and complete i probably wouldn't even write poetry. example. my new girlfriend was arrested and beaten by four cops within an hour of us meeting. yeah,. she is trouble. bites and scratches but four cops sitting on the little thing? i deal with this shit in the city every day - love paul.
DeleteI like the first one a lot. The second starts out pretty well and then goes to the "Oh poor me" theme you sometimes strum and #2 sounds trite by comparison with #1, which is honest and interesting.And as to a decent woman o set you free, sooner or later perhaps you'll figure out the only one who can set you free is you, at least in my experience if you can't do it for yourself, no one can do it for you...
ReplyDeleteI HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS
ReplyDeleteI hope you enjoy this;
This is the story of my life.
Based on a true story,
It covers diverse spheres of reality,
It covers itself with shame and glory,
It includes encounters with a wolf,
Encounters with a woman of several names
And roughly the same count as to bodies
But a rough consistency of libido.
Parts of it are told by a philosopher crow,
Parts of it assume a constant universe,
Other parts stretch themselves endlessly,
Endlessly, toward the purest inconstancy.
ah! sounds like a life well lived! full of differing emotions, loves, good and bad times... well written!
DeleteYour poems consistently wow me. This one is now exception. Except I have to admit when I read the line "Other parts stretch themselves endlessly" I thought of Reed Richards, i.e. Mr. Fantastic from the Fantastic Four.
DeleteAll us Richardses can stretch.
Deletewatch out for the hour of the wolf tad - paul.
DeleteInteresting poem, kinda mystical, and reminds a bit of a movie by Ingmar Bergman.
DeleteWho Am I by Paul Bole (this computer is whacky!)
ReplyDeleteWho am I? I really don't know
An afternoon matinee or a traveling show
A rabbit out of a hat or a shining beacon
I know I'm daft but, I could have been a deacon
Things aren't always as they would seem
My reality might just be someone's dream
I delude myself with my noble intent
Never once forgetting to collect my rent
I deserve my due, I tell myself once more
watching needy people passing by my door
Are we who we think we are or is it an illusion
Created by insecurity for mutual insecurity
What I can tell you for sure about who I am
is that I advocate tolerance and give a damn
I care about environment and freedom of speech
And I know a few things that I'm trying to teach
I'm a guy that tries not to hate
If I tell you a time I won't be late
My word is my bond at least to me
A priority of mine is trying to be free
I love the arts and grand beauty of life
I love my blessing of a wonderful wife
My life is full of family and friends
With all of them around, the fun never ends.
Nicely done. Sorry you're having computer problems.
DeleteNicely done indeed.
Deletemy god. a man who is on time and whose word is his bond. didn't think there were any of them left ha ha. nicely written paul - the other paul.
Deletewonderful write! I love the way it flows and the thoughts just seem to come from the heart.
DeleteSuch a nice poem, Paul. You and Linda are well matched.The rhymes and rhythms are very well done.
DeleteWho I Am by Linda Rivas Bole
ReplyDeleteI am glue and clay,
candles and scent,
beads and flowers,
little, tiny, miniature
things just satisfy my being
my violins sing merrily
and sometimes match
the gloom of a day
I'm banana bread and fudge
and more kids than I can count
giving me hugs and love
and smiles
and life is oh, so good!
This is very you. I would eliminate "little, tiny,". Miniature says it all and says it best. Maybe pull up "things" to that line.
DeleteI'd stanza break after the gloom of the day. And should it be "matches"?
I'd eliminate the "and" before "more kids"
I might put the last line all by itself (without the "and" of course. LOL)
I have no idea why I had the urge to critique this, but I did. I hope you don't mind.
I kinda like “little, tiny, miniature.” Not quite sure why. I agree with Victoria that there’s something a little too much at the end, but I’d handle it differently, i’d leave “and more kids than I can count” but I’d cut everything after it. Don’t tell too much. Let the reader imagine the joy of all those kids. Following “banana bread and fudge,” which is a lovely line, the trader is encouraged to I,anime good things, and the hugs and love and smiles will come to mind without you having to spell it out.
DeleteWhich is to say, there’s no one right way. Victoria’s advice is good, mine might be good, neither of them might be right for you, but they might get You thinking.
i don't think you are banana bread and fudge wolfie....wwellll maybe when you first wake up ha ha - love paul.
Deletelove the imagery of this one. especially the violin singing. beautifully done.
DeleteI liked the way you used different images to fill in the picture, and it is such a nice portrait of you.
DeleteIt took me too long to find this, but I knew I had it somewhere. It was a poetry exercise I did with my writer's group when I was still teaching high school. It's from a book by a friend of poet friend of mine. I can't find the book, but this was written out in a spiral notebook, so this is the first time anyone but the writer's group has seen it.
ReplyDeleteWho Am I?
I am a pack horse,
carry heavy loads
and small children.
I am vanilla ice cream,
the base upon which
elaborate confections
are built.
I am tossed salad:
a little Spanish,
a little Irish,
a few other nationalities
mixed in for taste.
I am the PA system
in a high school,
full of important information
but no one listens.
I am tie-dye,
still stuck in the '60s.
I am the smell
of a weekday meal;
not sweet, nothing special
but makes you
want to stay for dinner.
yes. those heavy loads just seem to get heavier over the years don't they vic? - love paul.
Deleteyep... this is you... stuck in the '60s seems to fit us all. lol. for some reason I like the last verse a lot.
DeleteI liked the images and the use of the senses in the description, makes it nicely vivid and appealing.
DeleteWhat if you cut out all punctuation and as many explanatory words as possible? Made everything sparer?
ReplyDeleteI am a pack horse
heavy loads
and small children
I wanted to indent the second and third lines, staggering them, but this app won’t do that.
DeleteWho Am I, Who Are You?
ReplyDeleteBelieved, deceived,
love betrayed, hearts dismayed,
creatures of our own devising
ignorant of the design.
Amazed we roam amid cobwebs of the past
secret tangles. We see what we believe.
Hearing has little to do with ears,
and more with accustomed patterns,
fixed notes and rhythms of yesteryear.
We dance accordingly.
Yet I understand that who I am
was molded by hands that guided me
when I was too small
to make my way alone,
and I am not cast in bronze.
I am fluid, malleable, plastic,
able to leap to my own conclusions,
and land safely where I want to be;
able to learn and grow from experience.
I can remake myself in my own eyes.
Who I am is who I tell myself to be.
wow! especially love the second verse... beautifully done.
DeleteAwww, I am honored. Hope others get to see it too. It's just difficult for me to get the poetry written quickly.
Deletewe are always too small to make it on our own tash - love paul.
DeleteWho I Am
ReplyDeleteWho I am is who I wish to be.
One minute a good girl,
doing what I am told,
another a wild child
acting bold. Or else
I may be old,
or sometimes young,
even if I can't climb trees
any longer.
I have many faces,
play many parts.
Some of them are silly,
I don't mind if people laugh
I'll laugh along with them.
Singing my way through brambles
and tangles and lovely bright air
my song says, "I'm me."
this one made me smile.
DeleteThanks, Bonnie, glad to make you smile. Have a hug!
DeleteI don't know you Tasha but from this poem I feel I have learned a little about you. Great job
DeleteThanks Vinny, I look forward to gettting to know ou a little too. And I really do think your poem is special, and sas quite a bit about ou, too. Thanks for commenting.
DeleteYour Life is just a grain of sand
ReplyDeleteI am one
A grain of sand
I am small but I am big
I can make this grain of sand
I can be a great grain
Or just a grain of sand
Drifting in the wind of life.
As I look into the sea
I am small in a beach of many
It will not be easy to become a great grain
I can be washed away by the rain
Or I can be one that controls my being
I have an uphill fight to shine as a star
Can I be a diamond of just a simple grain to drift afar.
Good one! Much truth here well said.
DeleteThis comment has been removed by the author.
Delete