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In Doubt

10 April, 2015: In Doubt

READ A POEM

by Theresa Göttl Brightman
In Doubt
Finally, I trapped the god,
crocodile-wise,
behind my teeth,
and I stood questions
of dispensation,
posed them crouched, as tigers.
I ranted to the god in my mouth
until my teeth turned to iron
and my eyes rusted.
After my flailing and tears
had settled, and only a little
hot dust still hung in the air,
I noticed a man, dark of mood
and dark of face and dark
of thought,
watching me,
quietly munching clover
and sipping honey.
His countenance was the windy one
worn by Alpine conquerors.
He fed me milk with strawberries
to chase away the demons and senators
and other hooded thieves
clawing at my shoes.
Then he handed me a cup
of blinding coffee,
spiced and herbal.
I did not realize
I’d swallowed the god,
and that he’d flown out my ears,
singing.

“In Doubt” by Theresa Göttl Brightman from Stretching the Window. Buffalo ZEF, 2007. Used by permission of the author.

ABOUT TODAY’S POET
Theresa Göttl Brightman is a poet who works with books at the Cuyahoga County Public Library when she isn’t writing them. Her poems have appeared in many online and print publications, most recently in Clockwise Cat, as well as in her two chapbooks, A Hurricane of Moths and Angels and Copper, and her full-length collection, Stretching the Window. She’s performed poetry across the country, competed at National Poetry Slam, and has received various writing awards, most recently from the University of Akron, the Cleveland Museum of Art, and the City of Ventura, California. She lives in Northeast Ohio with her writer husband and their chatty, green bird.

WRITE A POEM

Stretch your ability with words.

It is said that there is no word that rhymes with silver, orange, or husband. Write a poem about one of those three words that uses rhyme or slant rhyme OR write a poem about all three words that is not rhyming.

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Comments
Jim Rehlender
Thank you Mary,
Its mine. "Falling Sand" was my senior rumination about the long brevity of life and my 50-year crush on my wife. An hourglass seemed so appropriate.


Falling Sand


Falling Sand, endless sand...


And I love her more as time slips away

From an ever-aging world, ever fresh and apple green.
Su amor resplandece como una noche del verano en París.

Falling sand, relentless sand...

But how much sand remains?
When will it cease?
Be near me when my light is low... And all the wheels of being, slow.
(Tennyson)

Falling Sand, precious sand...

Sixty years fallen, so much sand is spent,
Each grain, a moment lived, now gone with the wind.
Oh, but could I turn the glass upon it’s head,
I would savor more each moment,
and live it all over again.

if only…




Jim Rehlender



Falling Sand


Falling Sand, endless sand...


And I love her more as time slips away

From an ever-aging world, ever fresh and apple green.
Su amor resplandece como una noche del verano en París.

Falling sand, relentless sand...

But how much sand remains?
When will it cease?
Be near me when my light is low... And all the wheels of being slow.
(Tennyson)

Falling Sand, prescious sand...

Sixty years fallen, so much sand is spent,
Each grain, a moment lived, now gone with the wind.
Oh, but could I turn the glass upon it’s head,
I’d savor more each moment,
and live it all over again.

if only…
4/17/2015 11:17:08 PM

Mary Turzillo
Jim, is this yours? Do you have any other poems in print or on the web? It was very clever!
4/17/2015 3:17:08 PM

Mary Turzillo
I giggled out loud at Jim Rehlender's contribution. It printed out without line breaks in my email, so I didn't at first realize it was a poem-- a very funny one!
4/16/2015 4:35:12 PM

Laurie
Clever way to use today's writing prompt and create a rhyme for the word "orange," Jim!
4/16/2015 4:19:59 PM

Jim Rehlender
A Christmas Ode to the Orange




Hadda go ad gedda code
So I could write this poeb.
A bost disturbig thig occurred
While at by paretz hobe.

Twas Christbas Eve ad I had stopped
To visit ad spread cheer…
A bilk-shake for Dad and a sudday for Mob,
Add bebories of the past year.

We talked ad we laughed ad we loved it all
But tibe was ruddig out.
We all just really had a ball
But twas tibe for me to check out.

“Berry Christmas!” to Dad ad a kiss for Mob
As I bade by way to the door,
Whed by Buther cried out “Wait! You cat leave without
Seeick what’s here on the floor.”

I spud aroud quickly to see her as
She was poittick dowd at a crate.
Aglow with pride, like ad Agel she was,
Guidick be to Heaved’s gate.

I gazed dowd itto the box and gasped
“Sweet Jesus! What’s this I ab seeick?”
Were dese globes of this Earth or were they the eggs
Of ad extraterrestrial beick?







A collecshud of spherical bright collored shapes
With great navals ad lethery skid…
Would they hatch or codverge? Or would death rays emerge
Frob sball Alieds hidig withid?

With horror by eyes searched wildly for hers
But were sood filled with lastig gratitude.
For as she explaid, my fears were restraid
As I gradually chadged by attitude.

“By Sod”, she asked, “have you ever seed
Citrus as fide as they/”
“They cabe, you see, direct to be
Frob da groves of Fla.”

I slubbed id a chair as I shed my despair
Add I filled with da warbth of relief.

They were fruits extraordiaire! Oh how could I dare

Subscribe to a lesser belief?

So taked was I with this woddrous evet
That I vowed to pay tribute with prose.
Id glory I’ll bask, for twas no easy task
For reasods I dow shall disclose.

For da fruit I refer to twould take bany a year to
Fide ad appropriate rhybe.
Id fact it’s prevailed for people have failed
Although they’ve tried tibe after tibe.

Did God bake the fruit for the color?
Or vice-versa…we odly cad guess
But we do dow, by George, that there both called ad ordge…

Thus the deed for by swolled sidus
4/16/2015 4:02:21 PM

Mary Turzillo
What a wonderful work! As always, as always, when Theresa gives us a poem! I love the coffee turning into a god and then flying out the poet's ears. Memorable!
4/12/2015 1:02:14 PM



READ + WRITE: 30 Days of Poetry is a collaboration between Cuyahoga County Public Library and poet Diane Kendig. Our thanks go to Diane and the poets of Northeast Ohio who allowed us to share their poetry.