Small Things Poem by Troy Cochran
Small Things
I can't eat a mountain of ice cream.
Just give me the cherry on top!
I can't make a living at poetry;
but I stand at the door and knock.
I don't need the whole damn atmosphere,
just enough wind to talk.
And if I cannot soothe your anxieties,
I can take all of mine for a walk.
It's the small things I like to collect the most.
The whole wide world is just a rock.
So take what you like from my treasury.
My vault doesn't come with a lock.
should have kept his mouth shut.
Never give up.
I'm guessing the second verse of each stanza rhymes with another. But then, the profundity and leniency of this piece captures my mind the most. O well, little things; small things perform most marvels. It's a life of simplicity. What more could have been found in the dark folds of life! It's my pleasure re-reading, Sir.
Chukwuma! Welcome to my little corner of the world. No need for formalities. 'Sir' was my great-great-great-great grandfather, and nobody actually liked him. Yes, I am notoriously sloppy with my rhymes. I am like the Navajo weavers (...or perhaps it is the Hopi...? Doesn't matter.) who always cut or leave loose one thread in their tapestries to remind themselves of the wisdom to cultivate a little imperfection in their creations, so that they don't take themselves too seriously. I love rhyming; it is half the fun of writing poetry, and ALL the fun of reading it. But even then they will only ever get second billing, and that's only if they show up on time for the performance. The star of the show will always be its leading Lady. Which is another way of saying that I usually aim for profundity, but I will happily settle for leniency. When you have been chasing perfection as long as I have (long enough for your religion to become entangling) you reach that aha! moment when you realize that 'imperfection is bliss! ' It's all downhill after that. Some call it aging, but what do they know. Anyway, glad to have your brilliant mind engaged with me. :)
Speaking our own personal truth through poetry is a gargantuan task. Most of us are underpaid anyway. But the treasure in poetry is free for the taking. Knock and it shall be opened. Write and it shall be read!
And your own contributions are proof of the pudding! Thank you for commenting. Much appreciated. :)
Mountain of ice cream cannot be eaten up. Standing on door of poetry to give knocking is wonderful really. Enough wind touches mind and removes anxiety. Wisely penned poem is shared here.10
Like Christ, whom I regard as an elder brother, I stand at the door of the heart and knock. But, unlike Christ, people usually take me for a vacuum salesman. They seem to think my poetry sucks. Where do they get these ideas! ? But you are absolutely right: 'Enough wind touches mind and removes anxiety.' Beautifully stated. In my better moments, I know that my treasury is infinite, and my own heart needs no locks. However, if you're ever in need of a vacuum....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/25/2024 2:55:20 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Nice poem. I enjoyed. Plz read and comment on my poem dear frog.
Sorry for the late reply. Yes, I have read and commented on your poem, 'Dear Frog.' I felt sorry for the little guy, and for the anatomist who had to anesthetize him. I think we have all had to go through that experience at least once in our lives. And that was more than enough for me. But I enjoyed your poem. And I'm glad that you enjoyed mine. Thanks for commenting. :)