Word Garden Word List--There Must Be A Pony!

 

Hello my little Sunday punches. Welcome to this week's Word List poetry prompt! Forgive me if this week's intro is a little shorter than usual--I am a little bit under the weather, but as the brave little sojer that I am, I can't let you not have a List!

Our source this week is a novel that I have recently finished re-reading, entitled There Must Be A Pony!  by James Kirkwood. I have reviewed it HERE. The link will open in a new window. 

"The Life of James Kirkwood" by Sean Egan

James Kirkwood is best known for A Chorus Line  and P.S. Your Cat Is Dead  hence the kitty in the photo above. 

What we do here is to use at least 3 of the 20 words provided in a new, original poem of our own. Then simply link up, visit others (or I shall frown upon you with bleak intensity) and then relax and kick back with a James Kirkwood novel! This prompt remains active until next Sunday. 

And now, your List:

bark

books

brainstorm

Cokes

colossal

dusky

ears

foggy

gawking

getaway

hero

monkey

never

pitcher

pony

pushed

rotten

thin

thrills

warmth

A Conversation About a Dog

 "I see that I'm too late," I said

"You don't see a damn thing. Open your eyes," he said. 

There was a train due, or that had already departed, or

that never was, or that was, but had long since gone.

"I think about the dog. A lot. I miss the dog."

"There was no dog," he said, taking a drag.

"Think about it," he added, blowing smoke my way.

There was a dog, but not his dog, or not the dog

he thought I meant, which we never had. 

"There was a dog." I was determined, and a little angry.

He laughed and took off his hat, dangling it from his hand.

"Whatever you say, you fucking crazy bitch."

Trains look small at a distance, deadly from up close.

There is time for one to become the other, either way.

I didn't answer. I wore a veil like a death mask.

I wore a small tam like a zucchetto. Pax vobiscum. 

"Wait here forever if you want, I'm leaving," he said

and stood up, but lingered, finishing his unfiltered.

"You still love me. I know you do," I said softly, viciously.

"You don't know shit. Try opening your mail sometimes."

There are letters that form words, others that stand for things;

letters one saves for years, others forgotten on a hall table.

"I miss that dog. he was a good dog," I said,

but there was no one there, and the station was gone.

__________

belatedly for Dora's Dverse Poetics: Dialogue It In! I will share with OLN. 

Image: Kate Bishop and Lucky the Pizza Dog

Music: Lydia Gray Sorry Seems to be the Hardest Word

My review of James Kirkwood's novel "There Must Be A Pony!" 4 of 5 stars.

I found this novel in a used bookstore back when I was in my 20's, many years ago, and I bought it because of the title. I read it and adored it--if there had been Goodreads back then, I would certainly have given it 5 stars. It inspired me to read three others by James Kirkwood--PS Your Cat Is Dead, Good Times/Bad Times, and Some Kind Of Hero. all of which I loved. I also tried Hit Me With A Rainbow but disliked it and dnf-ed it.

This is the story of a rather Holden Caulfield-esque teenage boy whose mother is a slightly past her prime Hollywood actress. The major difference between Holden and the narrator here (Josh) is that Josh is almost relentlessly sunny whereas Holden is disillusioned. In fact, Josh is so agreeable and positive that he didn't quite ring true as a 15-year-old boy to me, and so I only give the book 4 stars upon re-reading it all these years later. There Must Be A Pony! is the story of a young man, his slightly unstable mother, a charming man they both adore, and a crew of side characters. When tragedy strikes and everything seems to go from wonderful to awful all at once, Josh and his mom find themselves in a sea of troubles. The title is taken from a joke about a man with twin sons, one an optimist and the other a pessimist. Their dad gives the pessimist a bunch of games and toys and things but the boy just sits there eyeing it all suspiciously. He gives the optimist a pile of dung, but the boy is thrilled and shovels through it excitedly. When the dad asks him why he is so happy, the son replies that "with all this horse (stuff), I figure there must be a pony!" It's an apt metaphor for what this novel is about.

As a grown adult re-reading the book now, and looking at mid-century mores from the vantage point of the 21st century, the constant--and I do mean constant--consumption of alcohol by everyone in the book except Josh becomes extremely tiresome. Even Josh himself remarks about how the adults around him can't seem to make the slightest move without needing a drink first. Near the end of the book, Josh's mother finds out a friend of hers is pregnant, so what does she do? She proposes a toast. Holy fetal alcohol syndrome, Batman.

Kirkwood can be howlingly funny and there are sections of this book that had me in stitches such as the pet parrot who can only ask "Are you a Communist?" At the same time, the plot of this book is often heart-breaking, so it gets both "funny" and "sad" tags from me. In sum, There Must Be A Pony! didn't mean as much to me in my 60's as it did in my 20's, but I'm glad I re-read it, and do recommend it if you can find it. Kirkwood's books all seem to be out of print now, which is a darn shame.

Conversant Animals In Stovepipe Hats

 In those days,

the skies were closer--

God peered down from nearer by

still tinkering.

Animals had names

and wore stovepipe hats

or tam o' shanters in various shades

and could speak.

Why tell us this

now, when vipers emerge

from every apple, with tongues

hollow and stiff?

I wish to soothe

your two exhausted ears

and place fish there, in the waters

of your mind.

Here is the boat

and the cloaks of soft fabric

to wear on the decks on the sea on the sphere

spinning the tale

of us,

every moment,

even now.

_____

for Word Garden Word List--Immortal Poems

Music: Cream (lyrics by poet Peter Brown)  Deserted Cities of the Heart 

Word Garden Word List--Immortal Poems

 

Hello my little bargain hunters! Our List this week is taken from a rather interesting source--Immortal Poems of the English Language, Oscar Wiliams editor. It's copyright 1952 originally, but my paperback edition is from the 24th printing, in 1970. I chose words from poems by Yeats, Auden, Frost, Eliot, and numerous others.

Even our unhoused friend can afford Immortal Poems.

I bought it at a used book store for 50 cents, an absolute age ago. (It's original brand-new price was a whopping 95 cents!) This set me to thinking. Your average current potboiler will set you back 25 dollars or so, while Immortal Poems of the English Language was got for half a dollar. (Full disclosure: I just checked it on Thriftbooks.com and they want $8.39 for it in "acceptable" condition. Mine is falling apart after decades of constant use but I got my fifty pennies worth!)  This says something about the value placed on poetry in our modern world, as opposed to mere entertainment, I think. I am far too humble and witless to say exactly what, however. I am shy. Demure. I can hear all of you snickering, so straighten up and fly right, you lot!

Anyway, rabble, what we do here is to use at least 3 of the 20 words provided in a new, original poem of our own. Then simply link up, visit others, and then settle down with Immortal Poems and a nice beverage of your choice. Coffee, double cream for me, please. This prompt remains active through Saturday. 

And Now, your List!

animals

craves

deep

dripping

eaten

epitaph

fabric

fish

genuine

guts

heaps

hello

hollow

hour

mirror

names

she-wolf

shrine

skies

sphere

I feel confident that I can predict one of the words that Sherry will use!

Sensei At Sunset

 

And so, once again

I speak to you of the rat--

the bachelor rat--

who visits my garage.

He is a good rat,

even a fine one as rats go.

Never once has he lied to me

or tried to be anything

but what he is.

I feed him each evening

but tried to stop when the weather improved.

He came out and looked at me

as if to ask what had happened

and couldn't we overcome it?

I admire the rat.

He harbors no silent resentments.

He is who he is

all the time

and perhaps that is why he is alone.

I am alone also

and I am who I am, as the rat teaches.

I have a fine dog.

Many birds come to visit

and I feed this rat

rather than trying to kill him.

Goodnight, good sir.

I am grateful for your life

and my own.

___________

for Dverse Meeting the Bar. 

Music: Leon Russell Stranger In A Strange Land

At Breakfast

 

at breakfast

your smile

made me want to smash it

as bravely fragile things

sometimes do.

at lunch

I called you

like climbing Everest

because it is there

and like a metronome

because it always has.

At dinner

I made something nice

that our son wouldn't eat.

I said,

starve then.

you said,

what would you like instead?

At midnight

you wanted it

but I

kissed the dog,

told him I love him

and rolled away from you

like a pearl

from a broken strand.

______

shared with WGO? open link