Bigger on the Inside than on the Outside
In the series Dr. Who, the Tardis, basically an old fashioned phone booth, contains all The Doctor needs for space travel, and is bigger on the inside than on the outside. I’ve been thinking of this phenomenon with the death of a friend, Roy Bird, who was large on the outside, but whose heart, mind, and spirit were far larger–truly bigger on the inside! And today, a friend, a talented teacher, expressed a sense of dread at the coming semester–something her students will never guess. And think of all those seeds we planted in the spring–now huge zucchini or tomato plants–they must have been bigger on the inside.
So what else is bigger on the inside than on the outside? What “stuff”–objects, gestures, sounds, smells, colors, textures, etc. indicate this? Post your poem or reflections as a comment, and I’ll add it to this post.
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Here’s a poem from Fiddlesticks the Defenestrator:
I loose the chickens from their coop,
They scamper hither and yon.
Strutting up and down the yard,
To welcome back the dawn.
A little boy comes running
Chasing chickens to and fro.
Youthful energy knows no bounds
Till children start to grow.
The energy inside this boy
Is more than one expects.
He’s everywhere at once
Much like flying winged insects.
His older sister sits nearby;
She’s six–a two-year gap.
She sits quite still as one small chick
Climbs up into her lap.
A heart that couldn’t ever seem
To fit in one small child
Guides the hand to stroke the head
Of the chicken, sitting, mild.
A boy and girl who couldn’t stand
Much over three feet tall,
With insides greater than one could see
If he’s paying attention at all.
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Tags: bigger on the inside, poetry, Psyche, Roy Bird, writing, writing prompt
August 18, 2009 at 4:20 pm
I loose the chickens from their coop,
They scamper hither and yon.
Strutting up and down the yard,
To welcome back the dawn.
A little boy comes running
Chasing chickens to and fro.
Youthful energy knows no bounds
Till children start to grow.
The energy inside this boy
Is more than one expects.
He’s everywhere at once
Much like flying winged insects.
His older sister sits nearby;
She’s six–a two-year gap.
She sits quite still as one small chick
Climbs up into her lap.
A heart that couldn’t ever seem
To fit in one small child
Guides the hand to stroke the head
Of the chicken, sitting, mild.
A boy and girl who couldn’t stand
Much over three feet tall,
With insides greater than one could see
If he’s paying attention at all.