oil field poetry

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i wish i had a song to sing
but all i can remember
are words for lullabies.

i crave my voice in poetry
but all that comes to mind
are nursery rhymes
and wordless melodies.

i walk through a valley
of industrial shadows
listening for beeping
forklifts come to run me down
and stop in the shade
of a herd of
380 barrel giants
to slay the specter
of intimidating steel
towering over me.


I spent years as a drafter in the oil field.  Generally it was a soul sucking job and muted my muse to too quiet to hear.  But once in a while the poetry would escape the prison and lines would get jotted down in my sketch book.

I’ve long wished to be able to sing better.  I played flute for several years and was pretty good at it.  But I never learned to read music to sing.  What songs I know I’ve learned entirely by ear from hearing them over and over.  I can usually manage to sing along but keep my voice soft because I know I’m not very good.

I post my poetry here lacking anywhere to get up and read for an audience.  I miss live entertaining.  Unfortunately I’m in the backwoods of New Mexico and there just aren’t any venues here.  At least, not for my work.  There are a few groups that focus on Cowboy Poetry or Nature Writing, neither of which is me.  I’ve begun experimenting with recording myself.  I’m well and truly out of practice but it comes back bit by bit.  And the only recording device I have is my phone.  The front facing camera is really good but the back facing camera not so much.  For now I’m just playing around and practicing with it but an extra set of hands would improve the quality and make it possible to do more than just stand and read.

 

About m

My ego wants to think I'm a writer but my heart knows I'm just another one of God's Kids who sometimes has words to say. 2 human kids and 3 feline kids call me Mom. Or Mooooooom. Or mewom, depending which you ask. I'm kinda-sorta busy being a student again; this time I signed myself up for a bizarre torture known as Graduate School. Theoretically in 4ish years I'll have earned some more nice letters to put with my name. Let's face it, I'm addicted to learning and probably need rehab to restore me to sanity and remove the obsession to read books. I don't remember what free time is but I think I like to spend it sleeping or playing in the mud on a river bank.
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3 Responses to oil field poetry

  1. dokurtybitz says:

    Keep writing, you do a great job 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Pingback: 1996-2016: A Sample of 20 Years | the liminal life of m

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