Monday, June 04, 2007 June as a wedding By Leticia Suarez-Orendain
WAXING “proetic” (from prose poetry), that’s what June brings us this year.
Weary of the prose that inhabits this L-shaped space year in and year out, we consider poetry—only to dash the thought away, like waves in the ocean breaking against a cliff.
A poem, in the academic sense, is too difficult to conceive with its structures, metaphors, voices and careful choice of words.
On the other hand, a prose poem is a kindly, elderly woman rescuing you from a dilemma. With her white-hair wisdom, she may not be pretty as a picture but her inner beauty and ample breasts nurture your nascent ideas.
In form, she helps you express a thought in Belgian lace but at the same time she offers the toughness and utility of denim in prose.
A prose poem in itself is a marriage of two literary forms: poetry', which discusses the real in aesthetic words, ideal thoughts; and prose, which expresses the ideal in real everyday words and thoughts.
What makes prose poem lovelier than prose or poetry is that it usurps what is known as poetic license. It can sin a little with nary a punishment for being an errant knave.
Thus I see June as a wedding Singlehood’s grand ending A stepping-into unknown territory Only Jove knows if you’ll be sorry June is a bride walking down the flowery aisle June is a groom walking down his last mile June is a bouquet made of lilies, orchids and roses June is hope that love entwined never reposes Each step in June takes a coupled heart Closer to a future they can’t foresee Whether they stay anchored or each depart Because of life’s ague and rough sea They say their vows like an incantation Wishing the mystery be parted in revelation June is tandem walk only the brave take June is a walk that also the foolish make June is a decision not to be trifled June demands time and not a yes, riffled With candles lighted, hope springs eternal That darkness will not make life infernal That each coin encased in silver cage Will tinkle-awake prosperity in each stage Of this shared life bound by veil and cord Fragile ties that can fall on their own accord June is a prayer book clutched by a child June is a need the weather would be mild June is time to wish and hope June will be kind to those who jump the rope No way you can guess who will trip or stay In the game of romance with its ups and downs every day June is cold church floor strewn with flowers June is a path full of motley surprises That hamper or ease a couple’s journey How they take it, is your guess only.
