My dreams
are granite cowboys.
They never ride horses,
lasso lovely ladies,
tip their hat
howdy do.
They don’t move,
they can’t move, but
they never get broken…
(all rights reserved Pat Paulk 2006)
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Originals are better than remakes.
About Me
- Pat Paulk
- 2009! 57 years ago in April I was a 2# squealing baby boy. Got a wonderful tan in an incubator. Made friends with plastic tubing, needles and tape. All of which I have zero recollection. I've been well watered and fertilized over the years, and grown quite ripe. Plastic tubing, needles and tape are catalysts for flashbacks without the buzz. Enjoy!
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25 comments:
This is one of my favourite things you have ever written.
Didn't know you were paying attention.Thank you!
Interesting twist in how the last line ties back to the first line...
What a cool poem. I really like it because it doesn't let go. There is no quick read to this.
Unlike your dreams, it bucked, lassoed, gave a hat salute, and kept moving throughout my mind. I want to do it proud and understand it the way it should be understood.
Thank you.
Thanks Vaughn & QNT. Lots of nightowls tonight!
I love the concept: dreams as, "granite cowboys." It's a tough little image and you end the poem in a deceptively tough way. Yet there seems to be a world of sensitivity which you've lassoed me into, in the unsaid words which dance around those few minimal images in the middle, and which ties the whole piece together. Glad you stopped by so that I could discover this. I'll be back again for certain.
I'm a dreamer, but kind of envy you. Great.
wonderful
so sad
impermanence is such a threat
learnt yesterday
that an old friend died this week
hadn't seen him for years
thought he was a "granite cowboy"
thank you
boulies, thanks for coming by! Every now and agin that "writer-block" demon goes on vacation!
borut, unlike the poem, I walk on the broken glass of my dreams all the time.
floots, sorry for the loss of your friend.
Pat, I'm defeated. What a comment...
Well done...I like the way you ended it.
Pat, this deceptively simple poem is very moving. The supressed tension of the speaker is evident from the second line: "granite cowboys." The personification's inherent contradiction furthers the speaker's anguish: how can a cowboy be granite when the idea of "cowboy" implies movement to most readers?
Then there is the metaphor of dreams to granite/cowboys. How can a dream be a cowboy or granite? This comparison speaks volumes. I think this is one of the best poems of yours that I've read.
Thanks Mandy & Christine!
Pat,
What is a glass armonica?
Whatever it is, yes, be a member of our band. I put you on the roster already.
Tomorrow is Friendly Friday and the march is on.
Dreams are one of the last places we humans are mostly natural, I believe. Just posted a poem about it. If your dreams never get broken, Pat, I envy you! But if your dreams are the broken glass you walk on all the time (incredible), we're glad to have you back. Thought you got famous and became a confessional icon.
I guess no Brokeback Mountain for you, eh? This is a great piece, Pat.
for some reason this poem's made me sad, but still love it!
I like this one, small but has impact.
Ok Carol, thanks for letting me join.
Russell, I'll never tell, but confessional and icon I'm not!
Thanks Nick!
Polona it is sad! Thanks for your visits!
Liz, thanks for dropping in and commenting!
I like! Tis as simple as that:-)
Thanks Pris!
This has so much in it...
I felt fear and hesitation and past pain. The longing for hope even. There is so much, considering how short it is...
beautiful!
Thank you Luanne for reading and commenting!
just 'wow' . . .
such wit ... you hit gold (granite) with this one, Pat.
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