nabinadas13

Do You See?

>Day 15: “The Woods In Ithaca”

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(Above, Hemlock Gorge, Ithaca) Here was the Day 15 prompt: “For today’s prompt, I want you to take the title of a poem you especially like (by another poet) and change it. Then, with this new altered title, I want you to write a poem. An example would be to take William Carlos Williams’ “The Red Wheelbarrow” and change it to “The Red Volkswagon.” Or take Frank O’Hara’s “Why I Am Not a Painter” and change it to “Why I Am Not a Penguin.” You get the idea, right? (Note: Your altered poem does NOT have to follow the same style as the original poet, though you can try if you wish.)” Read more at: April PAD Challenge: Day 15

“The Woods In Ithaca”

Kaya knew how to chart her trip, she traversed all beaten
Paths and journeyed beyond the boundary where the locals
**
Said strange sounds came from unknown brooks where
Shadows rubbed shoulders with each other, and merged
**
Into a gigantic darkness, unshaken, unseeing, still. Kaya
Followed a songbird’s trail, walked the path drawn by it
**
Sweeping rainbow wings across a forgotten territory, beyond
The four humps of a camel’s body. She went where she indeed
**
Heard the droning noise of the flat-bowl slowly grow quiet,
Wilt like mushrooms in the sun, fall as scattered debris
**
Of an old crashed plane. ‘Neath the town weather rooster she
Saw women with hair colored pink, sipping bitter coffee
**
Brewed in the square, men harrying with news that was old
Children doing the usual; nudge and fool each other, beg for
**
Money from elders. All of them tin dolls in a dumb charade.
Kaya knew and saw ‘em all, but heard less din, a calm over her.
**
The songbird flew on, led her to the camel’s eyes, recounted
All the tales it knew, of people, lives, pebble paths, lost loves.
**
Giant shadows cracked their roofing at the song and let rays
In; incoherent sounds from unknown brooks became a babble
**
Welcoming, happy. Clouds soared up inviting more light and
For the first time, Kaya saw all the humps together, a vision, in
**
Falling daylight: four domes of a citadel, quaint and outdated, a
Blurry green no Google Earth could capture on that maple brown.
**
Tree stumps truncated, eaten by oafish white ants roaming free
Post rains. And so much else rising from the forest lake, engulfing.
**
The songbird’s voice, her feathers of story layers, told of imagi-
Nations of centuries of sensations, a native relic unnoticed that
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Winged past like whispers, like dreams, like sighs from catacombs
Dusty, dry riverbeds, long sandy stretches. Kaya’s was a trip to the
**
Moist mulch in dawn, the camel’s eyes resting on the glacial soil
With the knowledge that woods and skies and touches would be
**
Enriched, carved on its ancient forms of love and toil. On the bell
Towers, buildings, bars and homes. On its body, a form or a being
**
Called Kaya, land or life. The moody rooster meanwhile woke up
To announce a new day, eyes abounding in the light of a story just told.
Original Poem: “The Woods In New Jersey” by Robert Hass

Images from the Internet (Ithaca woods; Taughannock Falls)
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2 comments on “>Day 15: “The Woods In Ithaca”

  1. priti aisola
    April 17, 2009

    >There is so much here to feel and experience! Beautiful!

  2. tikulicious
    April 17, 2009

    >Absolute delight for a nature lover. This is awesome my friend. winged like whispers, like dreams ..wow .. nishabd kar diya tumne meri jaan

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This entry was posted on April 16, 2009 by in April PAD, Nabina Das, Poem a Day, Poetic Asides, poetry, The Woods In Ithaca.
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