- ‘Death tax’ rhetoric doesn’t address the facts
- ‘We’re back': second ‘Star Wars’ teaser drops
- Sunday Service: Legalizing competition in Illinois’ auto industry
- Cullerton: Don’t bet on right-to-work zones
- State Roundup: Rauner continues “Turnaround” pitch
- Open Government: Improved FOIA laws crucial
- Legislators ask Rauner to pony up pension details
- Rockford Art Deli providing homegrown artists a place to flourish
- Talcott acquisition continues west side trend
- Record Store Day brings vinyl back into the limelight
Literary Hook: Poem shows the journey a blank page can provide
By Christine Swanberg
Author and Poet
Sometimes poets like to play with the language, using traditional tools such as rhyme, alliteration, stanza shaping and the like. The creative process allows discovery along the way.
In this poem, I didn’t start off to write about a state of mind or chaos, but that’s where the poem led. I like to start on a blank page and just see where it takes me. I hope you will enjoy the journey, too.
Study in the Overuse of Alliteration Leading to an Epiphany
When your bucket of blunders burdens you,
bury it in the garbage bin,
tie it with a tight bow and let it go.
If your mantel of mistakes manages to outmaneuver you,
clear it off, box the contents
and send if off to Salvation Army.
So your snarling sack of snafus starts to undo you?
Un-snake and unravel each strand.
Then shred them all for good.
Dare the darlings of delusion dwell too long,
deliver them from their disappointment.
Close the lid and dump them.
Should certain cares come to crush you,
crash them like a tsunami
or simply create compost of them.
Whenever worms of worry wiggle into your
peace of mind, wind a hook through them
and feed them to the walleyes.
When on occasion the black obelisk of obstacles
hangs over your head like a piñata,
punch it with a pole until it spills its gifts.
The pendulum of problems probes too close?
Prime yourself in the knowledge
that it will surely swing back.
Know that even a random universe
has checks and balances, its cosmic dialectic.
Know: Chaos doesn’t last forever.
Christine Swanberg is a local author and poet.
From the March 30-April 5, 2011 issue