To learn about this inspirational exercise, visit L.K. Ludwig and the other bloggers who participated, here.
Not Waving But Drowning
by Stevie Smith, 1957
Nobody heard him, the dead man,
But still he lay moaning:
I was much further out than you thought
And not waving but drowning.
Poor chap, he always loved larking
And now he's dead
It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way,
They said.
Oh, no no no, it was too cold always
(Still the dead one lay moaning)
I was much too far out all my life
And not waving but drowning.
13 comments:
No way. I am so into this poem. For me it's become one of those "Everything I needed to know I learned from Star Trek" touchstones that applies in all kinds of situations. It's an amazing tour de force of relationships between humans, isn't it? Nice choice.
ahhh....an outsider poem..yay!! It as getting all too fluffy out there..
Combining art and words is powerful beyond measure.
Susan
I have enjoyed this word sharing so much! These are amazing words... and sometimes I feel like that.
And you changed your header again!! Love the waves :-)
very good! love this A LOT!
Thank you sweet lady!
I like this poem a lot. Something to think on...
Thanks for stopping by my blog!
Good heavens! Step AWAY from the Sylvia Plath. Turn around and don't look back. That's it, you're almost there, just step outside into the sunshine and think of bunnies (live ones) and sunshine and roses and lollipops.
(Now for god's sake, someone get back in there and turn off that gas!)
Steve, you are almost not even close to possibly getting this.
That's why I love you!
This is awesome! Thanks.
Hi Chris.. Thanks so much for stopping by my humble blog. Mr. Kooser is one AWESOME poet a definite must have for any library.
Thanks for sharing your words with us too.
warmly,
Tracie
Oh, okay -- icy water, heart attacks, a dying swimmer whose frantic gestures for help are mistaken for cheery waves, and a dead guy with the last of the air escaping his decaying lungs -- obviously it's all about Grandma's warm, sugar-cookie-scented kitchen, and a dear little kitty playing with a ribbon. How could I have misunderstood it so?
Actually, Steve, I meant there's a certain identification some of us have with Sylvia and Stevie. I'm just sorry it's too lofty for you to understand.
Okay, now it's time for naked Twister!
Now THAT I understand. I call spinner!
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