Once sentient past all reckoning –
tanned, muscular, and tall,
the sentry now is nearly blind
and pink and plump and small.
It sits on ledges overlooking
nothing much at all.
.
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2010
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October
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- Musing, Halloween
- My Daughter
- The Spirit of My Violin
- Since You
- The Universe’s Mother
- Berlioz, Symphonie Fantastique
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- The Large Bald Man
- The Final Fruit
- A Dream Escaped Again
- A Treat
- Another Human Face
- Disquisition on the Nature of Him, Today
- My Muse
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- Four Naked Thoughts
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About Me
- Guy Kettelhack
- I write roughly one poem a day. This blog is a continuation of a series of poem depot websites I'd also had through google, but which seem now to have filled up with my stuff to the point where I can't edit or add another page. So here I am. Since April 1, 2009 I've been adding drawings, one a day. To see them fuller size left-click on the drawing - and voila. To get an idea of who I am, google on "Guy Kettelhack." To see poems I've written previous to the ones in this poem depot, google on Guy Kettelhack + Act 2 (or just Guy Kettelhack + poetry): for kind unsolicited observations about my work by photographer Rick Shupper: google Guy Kettelhack + Holtermann Design LLC. (I'd provide links but they don't seem to stick here.) . . . thanks for stopping by.
2 comments:
Ah, but a non-sentient, unseeing pink plumpster is not a sentry....maybe once was, but not now.
There might be another sentry: ever muscular and alert -- just around the corner, along the unseen, less traveled path, on the road not taken -- A watcher sees much.
Only the uninterested are senseless.
Wouldn't you agree?
well, yeah. he's got nothing to look out for (anymore) ("since you"): hence his atrophying. I think that's the point, though with my own poems I'm never sure. They seem to know more about themselves than I ever do.
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