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Shoe-like,
an indoor version
not suitable for rough pavement,
weather generally,
too soft for the outside world
they keep a low profile
like a pair of house-cats.
When I happen upon them
it never fails to surprise -
as if it wasn’t me
who’d left them
by the front door
at the foot of the bed
in the kitchen or den
crouched by the wall,
am I slipping?
have I lost my mind?
or is it more a matter of heart
the habit of forgetting
become my go-to,
my comfort zone,
prefer to think
the plushness
that warms my toes
and soothes my soles
has a life of its own;
when I come upon them
unexpectedly
their previous wanderings
is their private business,
like sad strangers
sitting on a street corner
looking forlorn
the ovals of their beggar mouths
empty and dark,
and I think I might offer
some temporary relief
by the mere act
of stepping inside them,
I can lift their spirits
with human touch, a brief
journey accompanied.
I pause
at the end of a workday
and ask myself
whence my humanity
where has it gone
and where will it go?
2 comments:
This is one of my top ten Rotchin poems! This utterly delightful poem does everything a poem is supposed to do: it entertains, it enlightens and it provides a fresh perspective on something that might otherwise be considered mundane. It's got some great lines, starting with the opener: "shoe-like". Hilarious! And some excellent similes: "like a pair of house cats" and "like sad strangers sitting on a street corner, etc" (also love the alliteration). And of course it taps into the human experience (we have all -- everyone one of us -- lost or misplaced our slippers) without slipping (hehe, "am I slipping?") into banality or cliche.
As good as it is, with respect, I would consider adding a bit more punctuation. A few more commas would be most welcome. This becomes apparent when listening to you read the poem.
And dare I question your grammar? What is the subject of "has a life of their own"? I know I must be misreading it, but something sounds wrong with "their" unless you're going for a gender-neutral pronoun.
And I'm not sure about the end. Is it the slippers that take you to where you've gone and where you'll go?
Kelp, Your thoughtful response is much appreciated, as usual. I am honoured by the attention you pay these poems. And it’s so helpful. I was also unusually pleased with how this one turned out. I have it no more or less thought than any of the other ones I write on a weekly basis. I guess the lesson is that it’s all about the practice. Eventually something good will happen. And you also hit on that glitch - I changed it a few times and it never sounded right to my ear to write ‘have lives of their own’? It’s the slippers, and my heart, my desire for comfort, which I can’t control. But it isn’t many lives, the phrase is ‘it has a life of its own’ right? I got confused.
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