Sunday, February 10, 2019

February 10: Thank You, Poem of Thanks, "The Perfect Poem"

I want to take a moment to say thanks to everyone who voted for and encouraged me during these last two weeks of Poet Laureate craziness.  It was amazing to feel so much love and support.  So many kind words were sent to me, privately and publicly.  In the middle of all the struggle of this past week, I really did feel graced and blessed by all of you.

I really didn't know how to truly express my gratitude adequately, and then I thought, "You're a poet, you idiot.  Say it with a poem."

Therefore, tonight, Saint Marty has a poem of thanks for all his friends and family.


The Perfect Poem

by:  Martin Achatz

I dream I write the perfect poem,
See it before me, read the words
In a coffee house, before a crowd
Of movie stars, writers, saints.
John Wayne, front and center,
Looks confused but moved,
The way he appeared when he won
His Oscar, stammering like a schoolboy
Asking for a slow dance.
I read.  They listen.
Dante sits next to Duke, clothes
Still suffused with faint sulfur.
The great poet glows as I speak,
As if he has finally found
Beatrice, touched the face of love.
I read.  They listen.
In his mitre, Saint Isidore,
Patron of the Internet, floats
Between open bar and snack table,
iPhone in hand, blogs, tweets
About my poem to his heavenly
Followers:  seraphs, cherubs, martyrs,
Some rebel demons, the Big Three.
Father.  Son.  Holy Ghost. 
Princess Di shares couch, spumante
With Anne Boleyn.  Wordsworth sniffs
A vase of daffodils.  They all listen
To my perfect poem.  Three pages long.
Lines fall like maple leaves
In October, grace, color, drift, plunge.
Image as pure as penguin down,
Full of snow, sun, glacier, ocean.
When I finish, the room rises
In ovation, air a riot of rose petals.
I keep my eyes on the pages,
Commit syllables to memory.
When I wake, I grab pen, journal,
Scribble ten minutes, transcribe perfection.
This morning, I read what I have written:
Thank you.  Thank you.  Thank you.
Thank you.  Thank you.  Thank you.
Pages and pages and pages.


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