Posted on by EAT

Darkwater

This is very loosely inspired by Walden Pond, near Concord, Massachusetts. The place created here for reflection and as a metaphor for the “I” behind the “I”, the self beneath the self, the deep, dark, fathomless, impenetrable nature of being, is purely of the imagination. Yet, it is also a place I “know” and have sometimes been able to visit.

Darkwater

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.
Posted on by EAT

Loss

Two of my wife’s uncles have recently passed away. The first after suffering a series of debilitating strokes, the first of which occurred around five years ago. The second about a year after discovering stage four cancer in his throat and enduring debilitating surgeries. I plan eventually to write memorial poems for each of them.

As I reflected on what it must have been like for the families of these men, a metaphor formed in mind and I found myself writing this.

Loss

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.

This is my 10th Petrarchan sonnet.

Posted on by EAT

the resting place

Imagery and metaphor do not express ideas and emotion; they evoke ideas and emotion. What’s interesting about this is that those who read rarely even realize that these thoughts and feelings have been evoked from—not transmitted to—them through this process. As a poet, I’ll sometimes look for imagery and metaphor that evoke from me feelings and ideas similar enough to the original inspiration to consider it worth sharing.

But, I also recognize that what each reader will experience from my words will be unique to them. So, while the poem may be “mine” from the standpoint of having authored it, the poem is also yours from the vantage point of reading and experiencing all it evokes.

the resting place

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.
Posted on by EAT

The Bridge

My favorite metaphors are the ones that don’t tell you what they are. I know what this metaphor is, but would it really help you to appreciate the poem to know it before hand? Not sure, so I’ll wait until after. If you want to know, you can continue reading after the poem. If you don’t, then don’t read beyond the poem.

The Bridge

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.

The bridge is the function of memory, the far shore and the city thereon is the past, the sea is the gap between then and now, and the fog is the effect of time and age on the process of memory. The lanes being closed have to do with the age of the bridge and the fact that traffic from the city travels only in one direction, toward the observer of the past. In my case the past—my childhood in particular—is a dark and dismal place full of anger, confusion, and thinking errors.

This is my 8th Petrarchan sonnet.

Posted on by EAT

Wordplay

I would say that my serious interest in poetry as a writer began in July of 2001. For this is when I embarked upon putting together a seven part poem consisting of terzanelles, which I titled “Fragments”. After this, I decided that I would dedicate the rest of my life to poetry, and after some casting about for ideas on how to get going, I decided I would begin by studying the ghazal for at least two years. This was just shy of twelve years ago now.

And what have I learned about poetry since then, in all this time? Well, for one thing I’ve learned that it is hard—very hard—to write what could objectively be considered “good” poetry. In fact, the more I learned about this art, the higher I raised my own standards, and the harder it got. Once in awhile I find myself reflecting on where I was 12 years ago and where I am today. I find myself wondering just what poetry is and how it could be defined, and what it is to me specifically. The specifics change on this regard, hopefully evolving, but there is a sort of vague and abstract definition of poetry that floats through my mind like an ever shifting cloud. One that dissipates into nothing whenever I try to use words to express it. That’s alright; this unsettled definition is for my own uses anyway.

But, I have at least developed a sense of what a poem is not, and for the first time in a while I found myself revisiting this notion.

Wordplay

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.

This is my 6th Petrarchan sonnet.

Posted on by EAT

Falter

When I play with a poetic form that I want get to know for its own sake and hopefully gain some insights from, I’ll often first explore the form in its strictest expression, following its “rules” exactly. Then after I’ve done this a few times, I’ll begin to deviate and explore variations on its structural theme. The ten Shakespearean, or English, sonnets I’ve written are all in strict iambic pentameters, but now that I’m moving through the ten Petrarchan, or Italian, sonnets that I want to write, I’m experimenting much more broadly. I have for a long time not considered rhyme essential to a form’s success, often opting instead to explore various alternatives. Instead of rhyme, this poem uses partial reverse rhyme, assonance, and alliteration in place of the end-line rhyme pattern used by the Petrarchan sonnet.

Falter

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.

This is my 4th Petrarchan sonnet.

Posted on by EAT

Refraction

Hermenegilda Cabrera, lovingly called Tiya Emmy by nearly everyone who knew her, passed away during the first week of March this year. She is my wife’s aunt, her mother’s sister. As she fell ill, I would find my wife crying uncontrollably as she read updates on her condition. And after she got the news that her suffering was over, she cried on and off for weeks. Even now I’ll sometimes find her crying.

Refraction

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.

I know that Tiya Emmy’s passing has affected my wife at the deepest levels. But I also know there is more to it than this. Her mother and father are around the same age, and she feels that growing sense of dread all children must endure as their parents age. They are in good health, however, and we are thankful for this.

This is my 3rd Petrarchan sonnet. Still a bit challenging for me.

Posted on by EAT

The Chant

Last year during Advent I joined my wife at mass several mornings in a row at Saint Thomas Aquinas Cathedral—downtown Reno—before taking her to work. She is a deeply spiritual and faith-driven person, and Catholicism is one of the main ways her faith and spirituality find expression. As a non-religious person, I enjoy listening to and analyzing the homilies from a cultural standpoint. Then begins the long and often beautiful ritual of communion, at this location usually cantillated.

The Chant

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.
Posted on by EAT

Aftermath

One more in time for the second anniversary of the 2011 earthquake and tsunami in Japan. There’s not much more to say.

Aftermath

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.

This is my 10th Shakespearean sonnet. The other poem written on this subject a couple of weeks ago was “Stirrings”, also a sonnet.

Posted on by EAT

Stirrings

The first four lines came to me in a flash the same day I learned of the terrible destruction and loss of life wrought in Japan on March 11, 2011 by one of the strongest earthquakes ever recorded and its subsequent tsunami. Then nothing. Perhaps I was just stunned by the magnitude of it all, even from the relative comfort of 5000 plus miles away. But I’m trying to wrap up old ideas right now, so I figured it was time to do something with those four lines, for better or worse.

And so here we are, my 9th Shakespearean sonnet.

Stirrings

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.

Nai No Kami is the name of the Japanese god (kami) of the earthquake, or at least one of them. Watatsumi, respectfully referred to as Ōwatatsumi, is one of the great kami of the sea.

There are actually four more seed lines inspired by this same tragic event. I was later able to flush them out into another sonnet form poem, which I titled “Aftermath”.

Posted on by EAT

Spark

This, my 5th synthetic ode, has proven itself a difficult thing to write. I’m not really sure why. I think maybe it has to do with the insights behind the content being somewhat beyond the reach of words—Of language.

Spark

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.

The metaphor I’ve attempted to explore here is the coalescence of being and the spark of beingness.