Praise the dented pot that crossed an oceanwrapped in a coat we no longer own.Praise its one good handle, its black memoryof every soup that kept us through a winter.
Everything else we bought again, new.This we carried. This we would not replace.Praise the things too stubborn to be luggage.
About the odeA poem that honors something or someone, often by speaking to it directly.
An ode honors its subject with close attention, often speaking to it directly. The subject can be grand or small: a nightingale, a pair of socks, a season. Odes have taken many shapes over the centuries, so no one pattern defines them.
Listen for Often direct address to the subject, and sustained, admiring attention.
3 poems in this form →@marisol
I don't really follow rules, I go where my heart takes me.
8 poems · 6 readings received · 9 written · 0 followers
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