Guidance

There was a time when I was more religiously minded. That was a long time ago. This ghazal was written a long time ago. Still, religious or not, it never hurts to seek the guidance of a higher power.

Guidance

Our souls and spirits, minds and hearts all need God’s guidance;
It seems we have the most to gain to heed God’s guidance.

When all the worst occurs and you lose your only footing,
A cry of need into the sky will speed God’s guidance.

When relentless fears assail with crushing weight and swell,
You will be blest beyond a doubt to plead God’s guidance.

Ask for knowledge of his will and willingness as well,
Else there is a likeliness to just misread God’s guidance.

It benefits to cognize his way is not our own;
Without trust in his will we retrocede God’s guidance.

When his loving way is shunned we dimly walk alone
And stumbling comfortless in pain impede God’s guidance.

In leading us he tends to veer for growth and learning;
There may be pain, but nothing can exceed God’s guidance.

Zahhar himself has walked through fearsome blazes burning
And has availed in knowing to concede God’s guidance.

This is my 11th ghazal.

Publication History:

The Penwood Review — Spring 2003

sundown

A tanka to the sunset. Probably inspired by the sunset as seen from the summit of Cow Mountain, just east of Ukiah, California.

sundown

far away dimming
lonesome sun melts quietly
on the horizon
birds fall into reverie
only a still breeze whispers

Fragments

This is the poem that got me started studying poetry very seriously in August of 2001. Before I wrote this, I was hopelessly stuck in free-verse mode, never exploring beyond the bounds of the paradigmatic popular. So, you’ll find that some of the language is archaic because this is what it took for me to create this piece.

After writing this, I spent the next two and a half years writing ghazals. To read those ghazals from the first to the last is to follow my progression as a poet from the sort of thing you see here part of the way to the sort of thing I write today. This piece, though I’ve edited it a few times since writing it, is still exemplary of my beginnings as a serious poet.

Fragments

What walks on four legs in the morning,
Two legs in the afternoon,
And three legs in the evening?

Dawn

Faint light appears along horizon’s edge;
With steady pace the still light brighter glows;
New promise comes with daybreak like a pledge.

Tide of gentle rising luminance flows;
Deep darkness slowly fades away from sight;
With steady pace the still light brighter glows.

Dim shapes concealed beneath the veil of night
Form into clarity with even stride;
Deep darkness slowly fades away from sight.

New life, from stasis, forth emerges wide;
Fresh understandings of brave life to be
Form into clarity with even stride.

Illuminance continues rising free;
And vivid hope within the heart inspires
Fresh understandings of brave life to be.

To utter brilliance from the slightest fires,
Faint light appears along horizon’s edge
And vivid hope within the heart inspires;
New promise comes with daybreak like a pledge.
 

Sunrise

Great new brilliant birthing springs resilient;
Erased is doubt from whence the light ensues;
Wondrous blooming sunlight climbs ebullient.

To resplendence from the first light’s pastel hues
This shining marvel heart and soul entrance;
Erased is doubt from whence the light ensues.

Deep knowing brooded warm of life’s advance
Until horizon’s edge erupted fire;
This shining marvel heart and soul entrance.

From thence the sun shall rise in tranquil gyre,
As such it streamed beneath the realm of sight
Until horizon’s edge erupted fire.

A glorious new day has taken flight;
Fresh living streams exultant into view,
As such it streamed beneath the realm of sight.

Hopes inmost and profound are realized true;
Great new brilliant birthing springs resilient;
Fresh living streams exultant into view;
Wondrous blooming sunlight climbs ebullient.
 

Morningtide

Exploring gently, day’s new light grows strong;
Forth climbs the sun into sky’s vast expanse;
Slow shrink the shadows as the day wears long.

Deep feeling forms with day’s glowing advance,
The sense of vibrant strength that shines in youth;
Forth climbs the sun into sky’s vast expanse.

Warmth deepens in the bold sun’s rising sooth,
And warmth within the heart of life instills
The sense of vibrant strength that shines in youth.

Lambency wondrous tender hope distills;
In fervent luminance the land is bathed
And warmth within the heart of life instills.

Life’s essence in all steadiness is lathed
As fullness of the day is slowly reached,
In fervent luminance the land is bathed.

Life’s greatest depths of meaning are beseeched;
Exploring gently, day’s new light grows strong
As fullness of the day is slowly reached,
Slow shrink the shadows as the day wears long.
 

Noontide

Day reaches utmost fullness of its run;
The land lay brightly blazoned neath the sky
Where at resplendent zenith burns the sun.

Shadows vanish before the fulgence high;
Great living light of day its prime has gained;
The land lay brightly blazoned neath the sky.

Deep feeling of life’s richness is attained
In radiance magnificently made,
Great living light of day its prime has gained.

The airy land in stillness bright is staid,
And deepest gentle warmth all life imbues
In radiance magnificently made.

Full strength of living in the heart ensues
As brilliant glows the day from boundless height
And deepest gentle warmth all life imbues.

Grand sense of freedom wonderful takes flight;
Day reaches utmost fullness of its run
As brilliant glows the day from boundless height
Where at resplendent zenith burns the sun.
 

Eventide

Slow fades the greater power of the day;
Bright sun forth to horizon makes return;
Life’s prime has gently passed in subtle sway.

Soft breezes whisper through day’s paced adjourn;
Calm cools the land with fading strength of light;
Bright sun forth to horizon makes return.

Reflections vivid come of living’s height
As nearer draws the daytide’s closing end,
Calm cools the land with fading strength of light.

A calmness settles deep as shadows scend,
And peaceful reckoning rises within
As nearer draws the daytide’s closing end.

Now mostly lived, life’s fullness goes to thin
As placid grows the sky in day’s advance,
And peaceful reckoning rises within.

Staid iridescence dims in far expanse;
Slow fades the greater power of the day
As placid grows the sky in day’s advance,
Life’s prime has gently passed in subtle sway.
 

Sunset

In paced decline withdraws the mighty sun;
All land and sky reflect the dying light,
Resplendent glory of the day is done.

Day’s utmost beauties saved till now take flight
Like effulgent gates of heaven gleaming,
All land and sky reflect the dying light.

Life’s swan song of light shines brightly dreaming,
Reflections stream of day’s long cavalcade
Like effulgent gates of heaven gleaming.

Shadows begin to blur in overshade
As sun’s last rays fall from horizon’s rim
Reflections stream of day’s long cavalcade.

Upon sky’s faintest vapors colors swim
Emblazoning the firmament’s expanse
As sun’s last rays fall from horizon’s rim.

Great culmination of day’s long romance,
In paced decline withdraws the mighty sun
Emblazoning the firmament’s expanse,
Resplendent glory of the day is done.
 

Dusk

Soft iridescence fades from heaven’s height;
To darkness deep the sky gradates from day
When cross the sky folds purple edge of night.

In firmament’s expanse the vapors gray
As silhouettes within the distance form;
To darkness deep the sky gradates from day.

Depthless tranquility broods deep and warm,
Day’s essence long in memory remains
As silhouettes within the distance form.

Into a milky hue the daylight wanes
As clarity to vagueness makes return,
Day’s essence long in memory remains.

In dimness issued forth from sun’s inurn
New hopes pierce the dark in twilight’s failing
As clarity to vagueness makes return.

Till horizon all alone lay paling
Soft iridescence fades from heaven’s height;
New hopes pierce the dark in twilight’s failing
When cross the sky folds purple edge of night.

This poem contains my 1st through my 7th terzanelles.

Publication History:

Muse Apprentice Guild (web-based) — Fall 2003

For Me Alone

On Tuesdays there is a poetry and music open mic at Northlight Book & Cafe in Cotati, California. I’ve been going there off and on for about a year to recite and/or sing classical poems. Recently an exceptionally beautiful woman started talking to me. This never happens to me, so of course I was instantly enamored.

The last time we talked, we sat on a bench out in front of the cafe and covered a few topics. At one point she sang to me, right there next to me, and my heart soared so high it came back covered in moondust. This is the sort of thing I’ve fantasized about since I was a toddler. So, my 2nd villanelle.

For Me Alone

For Julene Beeson

Her voice like golden harps of heaven rang,
As on a bench we sat within the night;
For me, for me alone her heart she sang.

To lucid resonance from mystic tang
Her depths of beauty shone transcendent light;
Her voice like golden harps of heaven rang.

Within my chest a soft celestial pang
Lay cradled twixt deep longing and delight;
For me, for me alone her heart she sang.

Angelic sweetness round us seemed to hang;
Divinely wrought with chords of richness bright
Her voice like golden harps of heaven rang.

Tremendous joys from depths inside me sprang;
My heart, in rapture, soared to starry height;
For me, for me alone her heart she sang.

As if emerging from an ageless pang,
I woke to living there before her sight;
Her voice like golden harps of heaven rang;
For me, for me alone her heart she sang.

Your Loss

A friend of mine was recently dumped by her fiance. This has affected her greatly. I wanted to cheer her up in some way, but you know how it is. When someone has really been hurt to the core, there aren’t many words you can offer. So, I thought I would write a poem, my first villanelle, to the cheating bastard who dumped her instead.

Your Loss

For Alexandra

How could you turn your heart from love so grand?
A love as hers you will not know again;
Your loss is greater than you understand.

Her burning love for you would all withstand;
Never a love so pure will you attain;
How could you turn your heart from love so grand?

Unto the end would she have kept your hand,
And never with another ever lain;
Your loss is greater than you understand.

She would not in her days her love remand;
A truer love in life you will not gain;
How could you turn your heart from love so grand?

No deeper love than hers is in the land;
Perdurable, through time would it remain;
Your loss is greater than you understand.

You’ve left her with a broken heart to stand
In emptiness alone with all her pain;
How could you turn your heart from love so grand?
Your loss is greater than you understand.

Mauve Desert Rose

The idea for this poem actually came to me when I was 14 or 15. I saw it clearly. As the years progressed I realized how much I related to this imaginary flower from the id, and finally at the age of 30 I’ve tried to make it work.

Mauve Desert Rose

This poem has been published in my book an inkling hope: select poems, available in Kindle and paperback formats. Out of consideration for those who have purchased a copy, I have removed it from this post and online viewing in general.

Beautiful Tears

This was written for an online friend after she experienced a rather bitter loss.

Beautiful Tears

For Luschka Van Olsen

Try to imagine
Crystal drops
Gentle wonder
Welling forth
Love unfettered
From heart benign…
These are your tears
Your beautiful tears

Try to fathom
Melting snowflakes
Downwardly dancing
Expressing love
From depths of pain
Longing loss
Unyielding hope…
These are your tears
Your beautiful tears

Try to envision
Lone stars falling
From star-speckled depths
Streaking aloft
Dreaming trails
Of unbridled faith…
These are your tears
Your beautiful tears

Amelioration

For some reason I’ve been thinking about this poem lately, written March 3rd, 2001. At least that’s the date on the file. Just now I decided to go ahead and have a look at it, maybe make sense of why it’s ‘calling’ to me all these years later.

As I read I couldn’t help my embarrassment—a reason why I rarely visit my older poems—and found myself editing as I went. To my surprise, I discovered I had already saved an earlier version a page down in the document. And, discovering this, I undid all my edits, copied the second draft and pasted it down on another page, then reapplied my edits. Might be interesting to look over revisions of older poems some day.

My edits were half-hearted. I just don’t really think this way these days. But it’s visual. Most of my older poems weren’t so. And the metaphor is strong. Perhaps I’ll write a new poem based on this idea, changing the voice and refocusing the approach entirely. But, for now, I thought it might be interesting to share this old poem.

Note that the original was center justified, and the second draft left justified. Here I’ve just about randomly indented the lines as I read, almost out of curiosity. The raggedness of the lines now actually feels more like the poem itself. I’ve kept the line-caps, which is how I used to write all my poems, both structured and free verse.

So interesting to see how my approach to poetry has changed. Sometime I should print up everything I’ve written to date and just read through it. I can put everything that elicits a strong desire to vomit in one pile, in another all the poems that don’t seem to evoke much reaction at all, and in the golden pile the poems that still somehow move me, either as the author or as a revisiting reader. Maybe I could do something with that golden pile, like bind it up and pop it off to a few publishers. See what happens.

Well, here.

   Amelioration

            I sift
Through broken dreams
         They cut
Like shattered glass
      Slicing clean
            Deep
   Until the inner essence
Of this that I am
         Wells forth like blood
            From injured depths…
   The tattered remains
Of my dismal heart

            Most would recoil
Leave it be
         The shattered glass
      But…
         I cannot
For I remember…
            Remember…
   Vaguely remember
There was a time
      There was
When these broken bits
      Formed inspiring spectacles
   Of drifting dreams

            And so…
I rake my life
         Through broken glass
   Endlessly seeking
What might be salvaged
            Salvaged…
      From the shattered remains
Of long since shattered dreams

      Though gored and bloodied
            Somehow I know
         Despite the pain
   Gaping wounds hardly offered
            A chance to heal…
      My heart Knows
Slowly discovers
            That which may be reclaimed
      Among the fragments
Countless razor shards
         Shattered bits
   Of what once inspired
…And painstakingly builds
            With fragments reclaimed
      New dreams
New hopes

Solace

This describes an actual event. I was a runaway at the time, barely 16 years old, traveling the highways. The cross is still there in Clifton, Arizona overlooking the little town. I visited the town in 2002 and took a walk along the ridge. The pit had been sealed. I asked the local people about the pit and learned that they sealed it up because too many people had met their death by chancing upon it unawares.

I’ll never forget that night or its lessons. My path has taken me away from Christianity, and I won’t ever be returning to it, but I remain true to what I learned that night, and I have built my life around what I gained that night.

Solace

It stood on a hill
Overlooking the town
Plain to view
For all to see
I saw it not
For I walked
Wandered
Sightless and blind
In my self-interest

 

It was night
When I wandered through
This lonesome desert town
And late
The shops closed
Even the drunkards
Coiled within their dens

Behind a shop
Against a hill
Stretched a mason wall
Behind which
I set my bed
For the night
And made ready
For sleep

Yet…..
As I lay there
Behind the wall
Fain to fall
Into my fitful slumber
I could not rest
My blood stirred within
Tensions rippled
Throughout my tired form

From the warmth
Of my bag
I looked up the hill
Rising there next to me
And felt a pull
Tugging within my chest
As a desire grew within me
To climb that hill
Who’s ridge
Faded into the night
Lost from sight

This tension within
This tug on my heart
Grew stronger still
Until
I could no longer
Hold my peace
Such as it was

Exasperated
I opened my bag
And climbed the hill
Into the night

Its ridge
Was easily reached
And stretched wide
Before dropping
Back into the dark
To the right
The ridge expanded
Disappearing from sight
As well to the left

I wanted desperately
To return
Back to my bag
And close my tired eyes
Drifting off
To my place of freedom
In the ever shifting realms

But…..
From the right
Along the ridge
I felt the beckoning…
My heart raced within
I felt unsure
Of this strange lure
Yet I walked
Along the ridge
Barely lit by the light
Of a crescent moon
Smiling serene
From the pinpricked depths

Along the ground
Dark shadows
Hid slight depressions
In the earth
Wherein I tread
With little thought given
Trusting to plant
Firmly
With my full weight
Each step
On solid earth

…And so I walked
Striding through shadows
Pooled in the ground
Phantom pits
Until all at once
I felt a grip
Cold within my chest
A warning
Screaming in my mind
Raising the hairs
Rigid on my neck
Sending throughout
All my form
A frozen chill
A phantom pit
Into which
I nearly tread
…Do not walk there

Before I thought to try
This shaded ground
My eye was caught
By a sight
Most unexpected

Not far from me
The ridge ended
And overlooked
The sleeping town
Nestled within
A meeting of canyons
And there
Where the ridge ended
Stood tall
Reflecting softly
What light there was
From the waning moon
A great wooden cross
Painted white

Chills shivered through me
My heart
Suddenly content
In beholding
The call
That brought me forth
From the warmth of my bag
From my much needed rest

What words could explain
The feelings within me
What words could express
That which I experienced

In that moment
I understood
He wanted me
To know
With certainty
He leads my heart
And has for me
A plan
I to this day
Can hardly fathom

And here
I walked around
That pooled shadow
And approached
Tentatively
Uncertain
The great cross
Only to find myself
Clinging to it
Crying
Expressing to him
Who called me here
All the fears
Dreads
Doubts
Desires
And every prayer
Of my heart
So deeply shrouded
In hopelessness

For long
There in the night
I clutched like a life-raft
A giant cross
That stood against
A darkling sky
Wind blowing
Wild into the dark…

Eventually
I let go
And sat against it
Peering down
Into the sleeping town
Just comforted
Assured
That no matter my doubt
He still loved me
No matter my shame
He still cherished me
No matter what
He will be there
Always there
Even on the darkest nights…

After a while
I returned
From whence I came
Coming again
Upon that depression
Like any other
Hidden in shadow

But rather than tread
Boldly into it
I carefully ventured
One foot forth
Into the shadow
And it found no rest
…This shadow
So like the rest
Concealed a pit
A real pit

Now shaking
I fumbled on the ground
Finding a stone
Which I tossed
Into the shadow before me
And heard not the echo
Of its landing
For nigh
Forty-five seconds

In that moment
I understood
Both the cross
And the deception
Of the shadows
From which his love
Has saved me

Eloquence

Hormones wrote this poem. I was taking a class at Mendocino College, and there was this woman. You know the story. For the most part this was an inspired write.

Eloquence

For Priscilla

if words
could express
your loveliness
your depthless beauty…

…they would soar
in endless freedom
profound grace
a gliding eagle
lost in the bliss
of a perfect sky
full of fragrant winds
fathomless spectacles
thrilling peace

…they would bloom
in a riot of splendor
like great meadows
vast valleys
emblazoning brilliant
with spring blossoms
as if a rainbow
were itself imprinted
into the very land

…they would flow
like the wandering waters
of a sliding stream
beneath the verdant shade
swaying canopy
of a dreaming forest
allaying forever
all ambient life

…they would shine
with the gentle radiance
of a full moon
in still clear skies
bathing all beneath it
in quiet iridescence
bringing forth
the deepest beauties
from the heart
of all things held
in the pearly thrall
of its silver glow

… … … … …

words will remain
forever inadequate
infirm to express
the silken grace
splendid radiance
serene delight
mysterious wonder
and remarkable eloquence
of your genuine beauty