Showing posts with label My Poems. Show all posts
Showing posts with label My Poems. Show all posts

Friday, October 17, 2008

Vysehrad


My article is now up at: At the Lennon Wall, our school paper. There are, as always, some edits that I'm not happy with, but you can pretty much get the idea.

If you are a college-y person, you should check out Cary's video blog. He made it for admissions at Lewis & Clark.

It's fall here, and it is Beautiful. Breanne and I took a little trip up to Vysehrad, a public park and the site of a medieval castle and fortification. During the Czech national revival at the turn of the century, it also became a symbol of Czech nationalism and there is now a graveyard there where lots of Czech intellectuals and artists are buried (but no politicians!). It was a really pleasant experience. Here is a slideshow:

And here is a poem (I haven't been writing daily, alas.)

Vysehrad above the city, October 17
Fall smells the same, anywhere there is fall.
The leaves are different shapes here, but I still think
of raking a big pile at the foot of the slide, and coming out with maple
stems in my hair and dirt-tasting
crunchy leaf crumbs in my mouth.
The busts on the graves of all
the Czech intellectuals peer
above their leaf cover and gaze at eachother, and the
pilgrims, and the neo-gothic
cathedral.
Fall, a wedding with brown dresses,
seasons deciding whether
old or new copper fits in.
And every park in Prague has a dog,
a baby carriage,
and a lone old woman.

Tuesday, October 7, 2008

Sorry

So I made a bunch of fitness goals this weekend, and today- when I took a walk to go leaf-peeping on the hill and then ran out of battery on my camera before I got to the trees- I made a new goal: write a poem every day!

So, here is the first.

Petrin Hill, Prague's biggest downtown park, October 7.


Today is the only good day
to be on Petrin hill this fall.
Today the leaves match the roofs of the buildings below,
Copper, or amber, or deep orange-red.
But the grass is still green
And the leaves are still
crisp, before the rain
And everyone is taking their matching dog
for a walk.

I only know numbers and
folk songs in Czech, but
I know every seventh word
the youth on the hill say,
behind me, as I
lean against a tree
with mushrooms at the roots.


There's that then. Now... to write 300 words on how 10,000 years of history caused Poland to fall to communism the way it did.