A Place for Crickets and Commas

It has become that time of year at Merry Mount when the chirping of crickets at Twilight and Dawn fill the listening ear. It is appropriate, therefore, to promote the work of the “poet laureate of Junk Road”- Robert Bode.

Regular visitors to this blog have seen several poems penned by Robert over the years and it is a pleasure to promote his book entitled “Crickets & Commas”.

Crickets

Crickets are perhaps like nightingales. If one is in the mood to listen to their songs, the sounds are pleasant yet somehow melancholic. For if one is aware, as Summer moves through Autumn into the season of frost, one notices that the cadence of the cricket’s chirp slows down depicting the turn of season. But if one wants to slip into the comforting realm of sleep, a solo cricket chirp can become an annoying sound disrupting one’s somnolence.

I remember a recital that Loretta, Lee Thompson, and I were performing in late summer at the University of Tennessee. During the recital, we were joined by a solo cricket that had found its home in the orchestra pit area under the stage. Solos became duets, and duets became trios. I was dismayed by how loud a creature less than an inch in size could be.

What is Rett's cellphone ring? You guessed it: Chirping Crickets.

Commas

As for commas, why does a writer need them? Basically, to separate the structural elements of sentences into manageable segments. If one chooses not to use one one is contrary and can be described as a cantankerous bloody-minded obstinate stubborn tenacious unwillingly difficult curmudgeon.

I leave you with a poem from Bode’s book that not only demonstrates a strong use of comma, but also more importantly, captures the nature of my friend, Robert Bode.

SPARK

First, the robin, then the spring.

First, the cloud, then the rain.

First, the breath, then the song.

First, the spark, then the flame.

First, the seed, then the oak.

First, the step, then the race.

First, the wish, then the gift.

First, the joy, then the dance.

The spring and the song,

The oak and the gift,

The rain and the flame.

The race and the dance:

All, all of life Flows from one to the next: A single spark to form a star, Our simple song to light the world.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY tomorrow, Robert!

CPW