PoemTree6

poems by Rudolf Kurt Penner

Muriel Marjorie is Dying

Muriel Marjorie is dying
She was the poet
who first started saying Meg-witch*
at the beginning or end of her poetry presentations
and interrupting people’s polite way of thinking
Muriel is dying?
Whey don’t X, Y and other jerks I know
– start dying –
but Muriel?

When a friend of mine
started emailing me this message
I ignored it
because I thot it must be a mistake – fake newspoet Muriel standing by fireplace gensturing up
a prank, some bad humour
Or even a dark poem
written by the poet her self
that would make us think of death

She is not the sort of poet you think will ever die
And now, drinking out of the first
of my two white cup and saucers
for the second time,
I see the point – she is not meant to be believed
when she says she is dying
She was a light here in the Downtown Eastside,
but we later found out:
that is not the only place she lived:
She went up north to see her people there
She went east, to see and live with people there
She lived in the forest
She came back
You never knew where she was
And now, drinking my second cup of tea this evening,
out of the second cup of Chinese china
I wonder what the world will come to
without the suggestion
of the wandering soul
the window of her realization
the commotion of symptoms and “truths” not my own

*megwitch: an Ojibwe/Algonquin First Nations word meaning “thank-you”

©2019 Rudolf Penner

January 20, 2020 Posted by | about artists/poets, Not Fade Away | , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Writing as Milan Gibran

writing as a sinner
or a third world binner
wagering his hand across the hot coals
the walking parrot had foretold
that many sheep would leave the fold
the barber shut his gate at 8
to smoke his pipe among the tides
before the evening light
had been squelched by veils and the haze of smouldering fires
Getting to his family for the evening meal
had been the measured step that took him home
He thought aplenty, and meditating, made a mental note
of showpieces he would show his kin
in the village plaza
Where actors roamed all day
and goats and chicken cordially lay
and seeds aplenty
begged the cause of fowl pigeons
Maps of serious places on far-away lands
hunted his memory
Where would the Pearls of Yesterday
bringing their shells , lay them, for homes
on foreign shores
collected the eggs of partridges
and sold them on the cobblestones

©2016-2020 Rudolf Penner

January 20, 2020 Posted by | All encompassing, animal poems, esoteric/unintelligible, Not Fade Away, wild and free | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment