This piece of found poetry is a journal entry from six years ago.
Don't forget to Ride the Poetry Train!
A Saucer and a Jar
Noticed a loud war whoop outside
Mom called
Said there was fire in the woods
Just behind our house
Brad called it in
We quickly dressed
Put our dog in the kitchen
I grabbed a saucer and a jar
We ran out around the house
To the ball field
A garbage can on its side
Contents on fire
Dead tree
One end in the can
Underbrush smoldering already
Brad and I set to work
Threw sand from the ball field
Onto the fire
I went under the trees
Rolled the can with my foot
Out from the trees
Onto the grass
Kids lurking in shadows
Behind school
Kids called out to us
Said Fuck you
We returned the compliment
Brad told them to come out
So he could kick
Their fucking asses
Cowards I taunted
No one came out
Fire truck
Eventually arrived
Brad sprained ankle
Running to meet them
Three firemen
With foam spray-can
Put out remains of
Smoldering fire
They said they get called
To this area repeatedly
Washed soot
From my arms and face
Put our smoky clothes
In a bag
Put a cold cloth
On Brad's ankle
An hour later
Heard crashing in the woods
I shouted
I wouldn't stay there
If I were you
Heard a bird-type cry
Brad called it in
I got dressed
Stood in front of house
To wait
A mountie pulled up
To talk to me
She drove around the school
Told me doors were bashed in
She said I'll be
Working on that tonight
At any rate
Got a call
Have to act on that
She said
Drove off
I headed inside
Sat on the couch
Brad's sore ankle
On my lap
Our dog all tired out
Next day
Went to ball field
Rolled garbage can
Across the grass
To the brick school
Left it standing on gravel
Appealing to laziness factor
Hope they won't want to move it so far
- Julia Smith, 2009 / original text August 2003
Photo by Ralph Maughan
Apprentice Writer says I'd have called that 'recalled scariness' rather than found poetry.
Ailurophile says Liked the poem, and the photo.
Susan Helen Gottfried says You convey the emotion and drama well within the spare framework.
Hmm. I'd have called that 'recalled scariness' rather than found poetry. What was the saucer for?
ReplyDeleteM - Brad and I scooped sand off the ball field with the saucer and with the jar and threw it on the fire, putting it out. The fireman still blasted the site with his foam stuff, because it still smoked. And I was more furious at the time than scared, although anger always follows hot on the heels of fear.
ReplyDeleteLiked the poem, and the photo. Thanks for sharing. And have a very good week :)
ReplyDeleteYeah, I was curious about the saucer, too.
ReplyDeleteNeat story; you convey the emotion and drama well within the spare framework you've been using for your found poetry.
I've missed poetry Monday! HUGS!!
ReplyDeleteYou can tell your DH the tubes are all out. :) I'll load new pictures soon.
How awful!! Good for the two of you, putting it out. :(
ReplyDeleteI so love your found poems!
ReplyDeletewalk those miles and miles