Mary Getlein

Poetry – I

I come from the story of who?
I stared at the painting for years
amazing picture of the Phoenix
The bird that sets itself on fire disappears
into the fire
Then Poof! Come Back: new bird to see
The ultimate in belief –
but NO, looking at it, staring at it,
The picture moves over and there is a man
laying on his back, arms and legs stretched out
beautiful beautiful colors
amazing tricks these painters do posess.
I want to be a painter, a poet, a child
I want to sing the bird’s song.
and not the human’s
humans don’t say what they mean
Mean, they say, mean, they say.
I want the rain to come back
I want hills and ditchs filled with water
I want faries to live in tiny leaves and branches
I planted a garden in a deep bowl
placed a small Buddah in the middle
watching grass grow – my cat eats it
I stand on my balcony and search for sunsets
sunsets have been replaced by fog
tall trees stand there – watching everyone
tall trees stand there – watching everyone
tall trees and birds flying through the sky
making outrageous noises here and there
I want to be a poet and a painter
I want to be me.
– Mary Getlein.