ODE TO MY TOES
(After Neruda’s Odes to Common Objects)
You ten good companions
on this long road—
how much I owe you!
Rosy buds you once were,
good little piglets lined up
for their treat…
Now all askew, askance,
please keep me toddling
oh my tootsies–
even though one of you
has to clamber over the next
even though your porky neighbor
has mislaid its sense of direction
and is pushing
all of you sideways.
Tough as roots, you’ve
turned turnip, grown
gnarly with work.
Rubbing arnica into your crevices
I salute you– and your refusal
to quit the journey.
-Geraldine Zetzel 7/14
GERALDINE ZETZEL POETRY 
Wonderful!
Thank you…….for this aspect of that April. Love, Jonathan
You have given snow a personality! I’ll be carrying that perception….like on the ski trails…”the snow is my friend!
Lovely picture and loved your and description of magnolias and then that last line really hits. Much metta
teejay
But I know her! Thank you, ever.
The pace of a stroll, the slow cadence of conversation. Henri, the pipe smoker, the gazer, the somewhat burdened family man…I had no idea where you were going with this but happy to be strolling along in Henri’s company, then the surprising last line! Of course! What a pleasure…. and guess what? sitting here, fog bound, in the island cafe – Edith Piaf playing plaintively while I read it. Wonderful!
I know this “Transfer Station”——you’ve captured it!
You’ve captured the Westport dump experience very well!
‘like Kindergarten, you’re not kidding.
-Karen (formerly of Westport)
The small pleasures are the true pleasures.
Dear Gerry,
That’s a really lovely poem, which I like very much indeed. But I think you should rethink the last stanza, which, in my view, should resemble the two that precede it (without verbs, etc.) — somehow the loss of parallel with the two preceding ones is disappointing.
Much love,
Walter
Yes–I think you’re right–thanks for the thoughtful reading.
Gerry, Wonderful the way you combine history and present day observation.
Very nice; I shared it with my gardening friends. I particularly like the brothers at supper. And the lichen.
Geraldine, Walls is a wonderful poem. I especially enjoyed the flow and symmetry of the first four stanzas…
Hi Gerry,
Knowing how time passes and lichen clings in your stone walls offer a comforting way to move into my day.
Thank you for the strong images.
love, laura
So evocative for me, first the structure of the poem and then the words – the old granite walls around our Southboro house solid and hardy still, the creeping soft green, and all the changes since. Thank you.
Hi Gerry: Makes me think of my own stone walls–the original ones and what has become of them and those who built them to open the land. Thanks for reminding me to look more closely at what is part of my everyday landscape and what it is witness to.
Hi Gerry, I loved the Rousseau poem best of the last wonderful ones. They are all a gift for which I am grateful.
Much love,
Z/C
Thanks, Gerry. Such a bittersweet ending.
Yes, these are the tulips I know. Now I’ll always think of schoolchildren set free.
These are the gifts; this is the gratitude; this season. Thank you, Geraldine!
I have the same snapshot, other players. Fathers do seem more comfortable, closer now; curious about what that will mean. I admit to some tears, hear; this is a keeper. Thank you.
SUCH a keeper! I love this. had been loving the steady evolution of fathers without quite being aware of it til now. Thanks for this moment with them and you!
I can see the garden, the statue, the table… lovely.
Thanks, Geraldine. Glad I’m not the only one who likes winter!
What a grand, almost imperial lady your snow is. Mine is more burly here in the old hills.Good to have a change, and to enjoy your fine poem.
Ah yes Gerry, I can see it coming down…
Delightful, Gerrie – and how totally timely – you’ve described our yard after 6″ of the stuff yesterday!
XOX,
Fred
P.S. Daniel Craig and his wife Rachel Weisz were at Guana this year!
I read this while the snow fell by inches and inches on the street outside, and inside the inches were reported, inch by inch, by girls wearing fur hoods and handsome teeth. I am weary of cancelled appointments and being out of milk. Thank you for this poem, the confirmation of unwelcome imperiousness and welcome beauty in the same white pile.
Very powerful. You can really feel the cold taking her away.
Mitch
Wow, Gerry, this is so sad and so strong. thank you for reminding us of what we shouldn’t forget.
-Sue Moon
Your woman child faces death so gently. It is a powerful interpretation of the news that usually meekly passes our screens.
Geraldine, I love the slide of your language and your perfect ending!
May! Geraldine….I do love this poem…and I take a ride through the mind with it.
I wonder if this sprang out of Fred’s online course…I will keep an old lamp handy by my bedside! Love, Joan
Very moving poem, Geraldine. Heartbreaking.
A theme well developed, and well worth savoring and saving for one of those days. Thank you.
Geraldine…you are a wonder…Just don’t look at my thighs when we’re away next week snorkeling! Love, Joan
I particularly like the home movies.
Wonderful Gerry. The closeness and the distance are movingly revealed. You have a great gift of arousing universal feelings in uncannily specific images. Good work. SOndra
Gerry, thanks for these monthly treats. As I haven’t been able to make it to Boston yet this year, they keep me connected to you – please keep them coming!
Sweet, Gerry – and what impresses me a lot is that you can still lean over far enough to rub arnica in your toes! Also, just fyi, do you know why Neruda’s odes were always so long and skinny? Most of us think it’s some arcane artistic decision; but it happened because a newspaper editor in Peru (I think) gave him a weekly column to fill.