Per usual, I'm busy and blogging has fallen by the wayside. I thought I would take a moment, though, to post a poem that I just discovered, thanks to a student! In my Introduction to Creative Writing class, I asked my students to send me a poem they are fond of and briefly explain why they like it. Most of the poems I have received are familiar to me, but this one wasn't and I am quite taken with it. I think you will be, too.
Famous by Naomi Shihab Nye
The river is famous to the fish.
The loud voice is famous to silence,
which knew it would inherit the earth
before anybody said so.
The cat sleeping on the fence is famous to the birds
watching him from the birdhouse.
The tear is famous, briefly, to the cheek.
The idea you carry close to your bosom
is famous to your bosom.
The boot is famous to the earth,
more famous than the dress shoe,
which is famous only to floors.
The bent photograph is famous to the one who carries it
and not at all famous to the one who is pictured.
I want to be famous to shuffling men
who smile while crossing streets,
sticky children in grocery lines,
famous as the one who smiled back.
I want to be famous in the way a pulley is famous,
or a buttonhole, not because it did anything spectacular,
but because it never forgot what it could do.
