She inspired many poems from me during the time I knew her. This is probably among the best of them.
Vapors
This is my 122nd ghazal.
Publication History:
Muse Apprentice Guild (web-based) — Fall 2003
This one came out of nowhere. But, then, if you think about it, so did we. I mean, just where were we before “this” happened? Where were we before we were somehow caught and trapped by the dreamcatcher web of forming veins and arteries? This ghazal asks a lot of questions. In fact, each sher is its own question, and each question probably doesn’t have an answer—Certainly not an easy one.
Fettered
This is my 87th ghazal.
Publication History:
Candelabrum Poetry Magazine — Spring 2003
This attempts to metaphorize a friend’s passing. She died in July of 2002 from colon cancer. She often told me that I was the only one who would listen to her when she wanted to talk about her fear of dying. We would talk as lightheartedly about this taboo subject as if we were talking about poetry itself. This had apparently played an important role in helping her prepare emotionally and mentally for the inevitable. She was a good friend and I still miss her.
Dilution
This is my 73rd ghazal.
Publication History:
Art Arena (web-based) — June 2005
I have for years had a relationship with the spirit of the oak. Specifically the California Black Oak, but by extension all oaks. I don’t think of this relationship in the totemic sense of power animals and spirit guides, but in the animistic sense of a mutual connection.
Such connections can be guiding, and they can also be protective—but to my feeling, this is the decision of the spirits that I’ve connected with, not myself. This is one of the big differences between totemism and animism. The totemist seeks to control his or her spiritual relationships and force their wills. This, like any relationship where one member attempts to manipulate and control another, tends to sour and end badly. The animist seeks only to acknowledge and cultivate those spiritual relationships that sustain a mutual benefit. This benefit can be emotional, mental, psychic, influential, and other. I’m sure the spectrum of mutual benefit is as varied as the spectrum of light itself, and that much of it is beyond the grasp of both participants. For it to remain healthy and unspoiled, it must be cultivated and not controlled.
In this poem, Zahhar (the pen name my screen name here is based upon) receives a gift, a blessing, an unknown—a seed. A treasure. It need not be interpreted or understood, only felt and acknowledged. Such is the nature of those gifts—blessings—offered by our spirit companions. The minute you try to make sense of them, they’ll wither and die, and sometimes even transmogrify into a curse.
Acorn
This is my 63rd ghazal.
Publication History:
Muse Apprentice Guild (web-based) — Fall 2003
Even as a child it seemed clear to me that the only way for humanity to realize its potential would be to go to the stars. If we don’t, then everything we have or will accomplish is for nothing. Meanwhile we steadily burn and poison the one place we have to live.
anchored
This is my 49th ghazal.
Trees of all kinds will always inspire poems from me. This ghazal is one such creature. There is a cohesive pattern to the shadows as you read, starting with Winter and ending in Autumn.
Etchings
This is my 18th ghazal, revised in January of 2013.
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
