Coming Home Again

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Poems

Coming Home Again

A return to the past and an awakening

Poem by Lisa J. Leavell

What awaits behind a door of memories?
smell, color, sound
all one

Time has not paused for me here.

It is the same
although different

Desired memories have taken over,
shinier and more precious than real.

I lived in this village and played my part.

A bubble amidst a river of chaos and insanity,
where the clones dominate the helm.

Jesters dance blindly, wildly, deafly,
to please the oligarchy.

Ignoring the music,
defiling its beauty.

Always, always dancing, yearning to be accepted,
never questioning, never thinking

Only imitations of each other in an unfair game
where the elite make the rules
and always win

I too danced, and when it was finally over,
I opened my eyes.

Returning now,
I see the game has continued without me—

merely a pawn

I came for an ocean of memories
discovered an iceberg of stagnance

Now I hear the sweet melody and
will never dance again

and will never return

Lisa J. Leavell, contact: poetnouveau@hotmail.com
Copyright 2000 Lisa J. Leavell.
Reviews and comments requested
Posted 10/03/2000

Poetry in Motion

Poem by Lisa J. Leavell

This is for those who said it couldn’t be done,
the professors and judges

A poem for those who do not believe this
is a poem
but an inconsequential scattering of words on a page at random.

those who believed poetry should be about
inanimate objects like blue jugs and paper clips

that poetry was no longer an art form.

that all poems are basically the same, forgiving a few new words
and perhaps punctuation
it was a mold that could never be broken
a mold that will soon become Your rut

here’s to those who believe “free verse” is a foreign island
or fatal disease

for those who believe poetry should never reveal
truths about life, but should

sit and wait

                                                                                                  for any
                                                                                             meandering fool
                                                                                              to comprehend

for You i am grateful and also saddened.

grateful for a thief stealing my creativity
            while i slept
                        saddened that You are reading without really reading
                                                 saddened that i am not really a poet
                                                                                                    just Your pawn

You who are unwilling to open Your eyes to something new
taught me that i know nothing of poetry…

You are the Kings of verse
and i am merely the floor mouse
small and insignificant

i once believed poetry to be a game of words.

but You’ve taught me it’s a spectator sport, with Yourself as the referee,
with my heart and creativity as the ball,
and conformity as the goal

where all poets live in a world without imagery

but by god! they must be poets,
there’s no denying it:
they’ve already published five books of this tripe

This is for You, whom i tried so many years to please
only to realize it could never be done
without sacrificing my joy

Lisa J. Leavell, contact: poetnouveau@hotmail.com
Copyright 2000 Lisa J. Leavell.
Reviews and comments requested
Posted 10/03/2000