Why do this when I want nothing?
Why give living gifts I must feed?

See them, in the clear jug, in water,
then on a flat rock stung with lichen
and strewn with dehydrated shrimp
so tiny in life as to slip through the eye
of a needle, tinier in death – and ignored. 

They see each other and in each other
themselves, duplicated colorations
and striations of yellow green, shells
without variation, crowded with geometries—

This one on top of his southbound friend
faces north, head over tail,
a Dr. Zeuss stack – almost.  Almost
a two-headed one, but not.

Look at them, at their patience
with proximity, with confinement
as elliptical as orbits
in this fat and vast universe—

even with turtles, the pull of land
and push of water written a long time ago
on the underpinnings of being,

there is an idea of freedom,
an exercise of legs, a stretching of necks,
a sense of somewhere other.

Lynn, a jolly sight, the turtles, reminds me of your frenchfry-colored scorpions. You're running your own imaginarium, and what fun to visit. The "sense of somewhere other" very much a part of me and I love seeing it in your turtles. Tom

I enjoyed this, and what a superb ending:

there is an idea of freedom,
an exercise of legs, a stretching of necks,
a sense of somewhere other.

 
'through the eye of a needle' has put me on high cliche alert though ;) 

No, I take that back.  I like eye of a needle.  Works well and highly appropriate in this context

Thank you, Peter.  I was pleased with end S on this one.  I'm glad it worked for you, and for Tom.  I realized something in the writing of this.  Won't go into that something now as it might color how other readers may interpret -- but I do love when a thing happens inside my head, a discovery of sorts that comes through an observation(s) and writing down what I witness. 

Thank you, Tom.  Don't tell, I had to have the landlord spray the place again after the rains drove another tiny french fry with claws inside.  Shhh, or Mags may never come back!

love seeing 'freedom' in this poem.  i think if you had your own signature, it might be just that.

do have a couple of things to mention:

and strewn with dehydrated shrimp
so tiny in life as to slip through the eye
of a needle, tinier in death – and ignored

eye of a needle seems to be broken in an odd way.
also would 'smaller' be better than tinier?

these things are just thoughts, of course, not sure if changes would improve this poem.  it's already a good one.  love the 'flat rock' passage, and arms and legs in the end.

cheryl

Thanks, Cheryl.  You give me areas to think on -- I appreciate the nudges to reconsider choices.  I know I made the break after 'eye' to give the pause, the idea in mind was to lend that line the sense of the shrimp being overlooked, and also to break up the cliche 'eye of a needle'.  But, if the break calls too much attention to itself, may not be worth the sacrifice.  With tiny and tinier -- hm -- I wanted the repeat.  But again, may not be the best choice.  Will think on it.

Lynn, don't know if you made any changes but it seems better now.  maybe just a 'first read' kind of experience for me.  or maybe i should save my comments for the morning.

nevertheless, i can rest assured you're not miffed, and you know exactly what to do with your writing.

cheryl

No changes made.  I seldom get miffed about the work; the work might get miffed but I tell it it needs to act like a room and allow its furniture to be rearranged from time to time; we can always draw the curtains and put it back, just as it was.
 
[I was a little miffed about a neighbor bringing me these two turtles as a gift.  Does she have something against turtles?  But today I actually found myself talking to them, rearranging their colorful rocks, freshening their water.  Maybe these little reptilian critters were needed in this house.  I just hope they live.  I'm not the best keeper of living things.]

Lynn, what a delight from start to finish.  I would never think of giving turtles as a gift, what friends you have!

The only bump is use of "climbed".... each time I read that jars.

k

Thanks, keven.  i've swapped out 'climbed' for 'then'  ---- if i find i miss the more active climbed, i can always trade it back in.  But i can see where this might be a word comfortable to me but not for others.  Very much appreciate your bump note.  best thoughts and good cheer!  lynn

Love this, Lynn. Must pick.

milner

I thank you, Steve and McQueen, mi tortugas, thank you.  [or is that mis torgugas?] 

Any thoughts on 'climbed' vs. 'then' ?
Any thoughts on title?  Should I try to work the idea of gift into title?  hmmmm

opening lines not as clear as they might be in conveying they are a gift to N: sounds like N may be giving them to someone else. the "then" seems fine....tom

Title change.  Better?  Worse?  ho-hum?

Love the poem - my favorite kind of poem with all sorts of things to say about the most normal of things being observed

I like the title change, but not sure you need Why?  - She Brings Me Turtles would suffice.....you ask the question in the poem.

M

Consider the Why? erased as I am off to delete it now.  Thanks, Michelle.

Dr. Seuss?  Or are you punning on the ancient notion of turtles carrying the world?  Lovely poem!

Rick

uh-oh.  I may have mixed up my doctors.  Which one had the PushMePullYou critter?  It was Doolittle, wasn't it!  [I hate this getting old forgetfulness business!  Better than the alternative, but still . . . ]  Thanks, rick, for the question mark and liking this one.  Now. I. Must. Figure. Out. How. To. Fix ....

Felix Culpa?  You might ocnsider leaving it alone.  Dr. Seuss would certainly stack tutrles.  And so, apparently, did Zeus.

Rick

LOL Yes, some native American cultures (among others) believe the world rode on a turtle's back! I took the turtle as my symbol a long long time ago.

Me like, me like.

In one of my favorites, the world was all water and a loon dove down and brought up a bit of earth and put it on the turtles back, then dove again and again and again until land and earth was created on turtle's back. 

Yes, perhaps I'll leave Zeuss be.  Just today I think heard Steve saying in Turtle-ese, I will climb on my brother's back, I will, I will, and that is that!

Thanks rick and lavonne.  Glad you like!

after reading the poem, i feel like a highlighted bold vowel.
it deserves to be at the front page.

with turtles in the background.why not? any graphic artist in there?

emma -- thanks for your very kind words.  i will tell the turtles!

Your turtles reminding me of two lions in front of NY public library under which (if I remember correctly from somewhere) Marianne Moore told young Elizabeth Bishop she would meet her.

Bishop's "Invitation to Miss Marianne Moore" 

  From Brooklyn, over the Brooklyn Bridge, on this fine morning,
     please come flying.
In a cloud of fiery pale chemicals,
     please come flying,
to the rapid rolling of thousands of small blue drums
descending out of the mackerel sky
over the glittering grandstand of harbor-water,
     please come flying.

Whistles, pennants and smoke are blowing. The ships
are signaling cordially with multitudes of flags
rising and falling like birds all over the harbor.
Enter: two rivers, gracefully bearing
countless little pellucid jellies
in cut-glass epergnes dragging with silver chains.
The flight is safe; the weather is all arranged.
The waves are running in verses this fine morning.
     Please come flying.

Come with the pointed toe of each black shoe
trailing a sapphire highlight,
with a black capeful of butterfly wings and bon-mots,
with heaven knows how many angels all riding
on the broad black brim of your hat,
     please come flying.

Bearing a musical inaudible abacus,
a slight censorious frown, and blue ribbons,
     please come flying.
Facts and skyscrapers glint in the tide; Manhattan
is all awash with morals this fine morning,
     so please come flying.

Mounting the sky with natural heroism,
above the accidents, above the malignant movies,
the taxicabs and injustices at large,
while horns are resounding in your beautiful ears
that simultaneously listen to
a soft uninvented music, fit for the musk deer,
     please come flying.

For whom the grim museums will behave
like courteous male bower-birds,
for whom the agreeable lions lie in wait
on the steps of the Public Library,
eager to rise and follow through the doors
up into the reading rooms,
     please come flying.
We can sit down and weep; we can go shopping,
or play at a game of constantly being wrong
with a priceless set of vocabularies,
or we can bravely deplore, but please
     please come flying.

With dynasties of negative constructions
darkening and dying around you,
with grammar that suddenly turns and shines
like flocks of sandpipers flying,
     please come flying.

Come like a light in the white mackerel sky,
come like a daytime comet
with a long unnebulous train of words,
from Brooklyn, over the Brooklyn Bridge, on this fine morning,
     please come flying.
 

Now that's a poem!  I loved those lions at the NYC public library!  I love the sounds and vocabulary and richness of the poem you've shared here, and the mention of those two astounding lions of verse, Bishop and Moore.  If these little turtles inspired you to share this with all, Tom, then these little turtles have done very well.  Thanks.  [Reading this makes me feel as if I've unwrapped an early gift!]

how about just 'she brings me turtles'?

This is a remarkable poem, Lynn. Reminds me of Bishop. T

how about just 'she brings me turtles'?

This is a remarkable poem, Lynn. Reminds me of Bishop. The ending knocks me out.

james

james, title is changed to She Brings Me Turtles -- has been for a while but doesn't reflect in early thread responses on the title line.  i'm so pleased you stopped by and left me such very kind words.  Bishop? What a compliment!  I shall treasure it. 

lynn

Holy Smokes!  How did this make the Front?  Just noticed.  And am stunned.  What a Christmas Eve gift.  Thank you, thank you.  Thank you.  To whoever made this happen.

Merry, Merry to all!  lynn

A fitting poem for Christmas. Put a smile to see it here.
Just finished my observance: kicked everyone out to go buy challah, and played Gillian Walsh's "Orphan Girl" and "By the Mark" on repeat about ten times, now will read the turtles again and be ready for the onslaught...t-minus 21 minutes...Love to all, Tom

congratulations lyn. I agree, this poem deserves a place in poetry history.
merry christmas.

Congratulations, Lynn. Merry Christmas!

Why, indeed.  Most excellent.  Thank you for the ride,  pat

Tom, after your post I googled Orphan Girl by Gillian and I owe you for the introduction.  Thank you. 

emma -- thank you so very much for your kind thoughts and Happy New Year!

pat -- thank you for the reading and comment.  much appreciated! 

lynn, congratulations on this terrific pick, a well deserved front page.  continue on and thanks for the stories. -lawrence

fine pick for Front Page
congratulations, Lynn!






Stella

Lynn,

This is an absolutely beautiful and perfect poem.

                       Ken

Very much enjoyed this each time I came to the circle this week, Lynn.  It's been a fine showcase poem.

Stella, Ken and Sue -- thank you each so very much.

TO EVERYONE:  I wish you each and all health and all you might wish to come true, to come true!

 Best, best thoughts -- lynn

I wish to come true;
to hold hard to a straight line
which diminishes in the distance
to a point
where I might rest

A worthy place to stop.

It will come, el vee!  That point will come!  I'm wishing it for you too.