A special thanks to Jenna who opened up her blog to a few of us. I first became acquainted with Jenna and her writing during the Wrap it Up blog hop. I was impressed with her then and continue to follow her blog.
Though I write very little poetry anymore, I am thankful for all the classes I took on it. I remember catching phrases like this: “Show don’t Tell” or “Less is More”. I find that this rings true for novel writing as well. Saying less usually does mean more and Showing is always better than telling.
May I share a poem that knocked my socks off? It’s called Power and it illustrates beautifully exactly what my Poetry teacher tried to hammer into us all those years ago.
No one we knew had ever stopped a train.
Hardly daring to breathe, I waited
Belly down with my brother
In a dry ditch
Watching through the green thickness
Of grass and willows.
Stuffed with crumpled newspapers,
The shirt and pants looked real enough
Stretched out across the rails. I felt my heart
Beating against the cool ground,
And the terrible long screech of the train’s
Breaking began. We had done it.
Then it was in front of us,
A hundred iron wheels tearing like time
Into red flannel and denim, shredding the child
We had made, until it finally stopped.
My brother jabbed at me,
Pointed down the tracks. A man
Had Climbed out of the engine, was running
In our direction, waving his arms,
Screaming that he would kill us
Whoever we were.
Then, very close to the spot
Where we hid, he stomped and cursed
As the rags and papers scattered
Over the gravel from our joke.
I tried to remember which of us
That red shirt had belonged to,
But morning seemed too long ago, and the man
Was falling, sobbing, to his knees.
I couldn’t stop watching,
My brother lay next to me,
His hands covering his ears,
His face pressed tight to the ground.
I remember how wowed I was at this poem when I first read it. And the title being, Power, only adds to
the overall impression this poem had on me.
Thank you again Jenna for letting me share!