Arrogance – A Found Poem

Winter Rose

Well, when you’re climbing,
everything’s against you.
Gravity, wind and weather
altitude, time, geography.

You’re nothing but a spec
on the face of a monolithe,
one that’s been where it is
since the dawn of time.

But you don’t care
about any of that.

If you did, you wouldn’t be there.
But you are there, daring
disaster and death
and all of it

a little flea
climbing up a mountain.

A mountain.

What is that,
if not arrogance?

Excerpt from The Winter Rose, by Jennifer Donnelly, 2006, pg 560.  Re-written in poetic form as seen here, by Jodine Derena Butler, 2012.  Copyright permission pending.

Dogs At My Door (Redlight Series)


Lovers of pain and comfort, unconditional
with puppy dog eyes wide shut
Head on my stomach fur coat attired
foetal and like old things, worn
Moments and memories dispensed
a hairs breath between prickles
and whiskers tease
rubbing the shredded skin of dissociation
Thoughts escape, awakened
stirred and panting
Playful ball sports and eyebrows raise
sniffing familiarity
Belly rubs and legs splayed
assuming the mould from in behind, the scene
anticipation hungry for food
Dependence in exchange for love
money in exchange for lust
No flea’s here, no blood,
no life-sucking thoughts here
Gods comfort wrap fur-lined with licky tongue
slobbering kisses of conversation
Done and dusted.

© 2007 Jodine Derena Butler. All Rights Reserved
First Published in Side Stream, Issue 7, August 2007, “Poetry From The Fringe”