Happy Poet’s Day!
I had no idea that such an observance existed, but when it comes to art, literature, and the humanities, I’m always willing to celebrate. It’s coincidence that Poet’s Day has arrived this month, as I had just been assembling some of my own — I picked up a copy of “Our Numbered Days” by Neil Hilborn and I’ve been very inspired.
To celebrate, I’ll share one of mine from a curation I’ve been putting together called “the Songbook Sessions.” If you’ve read this one before, don’t tell anyone where (It’ll be a secret between you and I!)
Dulcinea in her windmill escape
Don Quixote with the feminine face
Says he loves her but he wants her to change
He wants her violent and he wants her to sway
She tries to stand up on her own, unsure of her legs
The supernova of his name blows her away
Dulcinea isn’t really her name
He can change it just as long as he stays
He can twist it, he can throw it away
He can have it, he can lay it to waste
Her fire red, in all its shades, her anger remains
With all the shame brought on her name, there’s light on her face
She knows where he goes when he walks away
She knows that she grows in spades
He knows that she won’t be standing in place
He knows that she won’t be tamed.
From “the Songbook Sessions.”
© 2015 A.P. Miller