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Moonpines

After nearly a year of spending most full moons deep in the Montgomery Woods, a State Nature Reserve of old growth coastal redwoods about 30 miles west of Ukiah, California, I felt compelled to dedicate a poem to my experiences therein. One peculiar trait of a forest of old growth redwoods during a full moon is the tendency for one among the towering ranks to fall entirely in the path of moonlight. It only lasts for a few moments to a few minutes, but the effect is absolutely striking, echoing deep into the psyche for all time. This is my 8th terzanelle.

Moonpines

         Montgomery Woods at Full Moon
            Mendocino County, CA
                Winter, Spring and Summer of 2003

Gently gleaming from shadowed depths, a single pillar shines,
Held in place by the full moon’s gaze, suspended on the night;
Bold within the enshrouded gloom, the silent moonbeam climbs.

Vaulted high into moonstone heights, both bark and bough alike
Etch mosaics of subtle hue in countless shapes and shades,
Held in place by the full moon’s gaze, suspended on the night.

Shifting softly with light subdued, the moon with traces vague
Brushes ever so faint the forms where rays, diffuse and dim,
Etch mosaics of subtle hue in countless shapes and shades.

Slowly walking, devoid of thought, low glimmers skim the skin,
Moonlight faint as a whisper’s breath, with tingle and tickle touch,
Brushes ever so faint the forms where rays diffuse and dim.

Sitting down where the wood is deep amid the moonshade hush,
Downy zephyrous breezes join the opal-toned caress,
Moonlight faint as a whisper’s breath with tingle and tickle touch.

Sudden, deep in the patterned depths one massive tree is blessed,
Caught entranced by the moon’s embrace, and all my heart is thrilled;
Downy zephyrous breezes join the opal-toned caress.

Here my spirit escapes the mind and laves in peace until
Gently gleaming from shadowed depths, a single pillar shines,
Caught entranced by the moon’s embrace, and all my heart is thrilled;
Bold within the enshrouded gloom, the silent moonbeam climbs.

Publication History:

Blackmail Press (web-based) — Spring 2006

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Emaciation

I am going through the poetry I’ve written since ’92 and organizing their titles and properties into a database, as much to learn about Microsoft Access as to organize my writing for keeping track of submissions and for other purposes. When I read this over, I realized it might be worth having here on my blog. I was bold to compare myself with Rumi and Hafez in this ghazal, especially considering my abilities at the time I wrote this, but it does have its redeeming qualities.

Emaciation

Long ago, before her depths fed mad conglomerate needs,
This blood-soaked sand was fertile land that met more moderate needs.

Winds rise up and desert storms destroy ten thousand homes,
And hungry ghosts feed on decay to glut degenerate needs.

All short-sighted might, the Great Machine consumes the world,
Proclaiming all the while to meet the world’s agglomerate needs.

Liberation brought their bane of plunder, ruin and rape,
For raging hearts were finally freed to sate intemperate needs.

Crimson streaks of blood now stain the bedding of our hope,
And fifty bullet holes present the West’s adulterate needs.

Time will sweep the cross and crescent both to forgotten dust;
No-one will remember their strife or their commensurate needs.

Hafez and Rumi, were they here, might have written the same;
You are obliged, Zahhar, to plead the poor’s confederate needs.

This is my 118th ghazal.

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Dancelight

My very first girlfriend studied ethnic dance at UCLA, amongst other things. She was born in Taiwan, but raised in Southern California. Although we were only an item for about a year and a half, she had a tremendous impact on my life in general.

I owe her a lot, actually, for she inspired me to better myself in multiple ways—Everything from the way I talked and carried myself to the way I perceived the world and my place within it. If we never met, I’m sure that I would still be an irrepressible, delinquent teenager, or worse. She was a catalyst for self-improvement, so it seemed fitting to dedicate a ghazal to her even though many years have passed and we have both long since moved on.

Dancelight

For Wennifer

Though countless twirling wonders dance before to bait my heart,
Her dance splits night asunder—brilliance holds elate my heart.

When first her dark eyes opened, all the bashful heavens blushed;
The full moon danced out singing, “Let her gaze gyrate my heart!”

I saw her lightly dancing midst a grove of cherry trees,
Their blossoms rained upon her; scenes as such translate my heart.

A weeping porcelain rose cried, “Once with dancing step she passed;
She picked me up and kissed me; now what love can sate my heart?”

Her midnight jasmine fragrance dances playful on the wind,
And drifts across the rooftops on to stimulate my heart.

She walked down by the ocean where the waves danced at her feet,
The sea said, “Though I fall back, this does not abate my heart.”

One day I heard Zahhar say, “I did not know how to dance,
And though she tried to teach me, I could not locate my heart.”

This is my 111th ghazal.

Publication History:

Muse Apprentice Guild (web-based) — Fall 2003

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Occurrences

Found this hiding in the folder for February, 2003, which contains five ghazals. I managed to polish it off a bit and steady the meter some before posting.

Occurrences

Ridges slope to meet the waves in gradient appearance;
Foliage climbs to each lone peak in variant appearance.

Soft the half-moon’s halo glows in the subtle haze of night,
Where undulating ocean foam gleams salient appearance.

Endless in collapse upon a steady, slow expansion,
Shedding light, the sun maintains a radiant appearance.

Countless shades of blue reveal within the arching heavens
Something more felt than seen in all its ambient appearance.

Ten thousand modes of thought assume that life is nowhere else,
That we alone dream near the rim, a sapient appearance.

Emptiness can only hold the ceaseless apparitions;
Where would we have, without the void, to orient appearance?

All these forms that seem so real are passing just like thought—
Zahhar, you too are simply but a transient appearance.

This is my 109th ghazal.

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Openings

Empty spaces have always intrigued me, especially when framed around a striking foreground.

Openings

Faces fade as lovers share a common glance in the void;
Sifting through the crowd, they meet, alone to dance in the void.

Falling from the azure depths, at one with wind in the heights,
Bold skydivers pull the cord and play with chance in the void.

Horses thunder through the fields—look how they race with the clouds!
Boundless freedom sings where neighs and whinnies prance in the void.

Distant rumbles barely heard in silent depths of the night
Leave a moonlit trail that gleams a silver lance in the void.

Stark against the setting sun and wild crash of the sea,
Growing lone, a cypress holds a mighty stance in the void.

Beating midnight wings in time, a raven lights on a branch;
Soft, a sable feather falls, then floats askance in the void.

Strive each day to wake, Zahhar, and lift the veil from your sight—
Shifting dreams can only serve to break your trance in the void.

This is my 108th ghazal.

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Transfigurations

A random write that has an abstract, metaphysical feel and focus. There’s really not much more to say about it, except that I think it turned out pretty well.

Transfigurations

Sprawled across a dusty couch, a fiend shoots dope in silence;
Lone amidst a warring world—one way to cope in silence.

Underneath the shifting heights, in tempest roar or sunshine,
Sitting on a rock, a monk expands his scope in silence.

On a hillside, old madrones unfold their hues to heaven;
Probing roots fan out and weave beneath the slope in silence.

Chanting in cathedral gloom with eyes fixed on the rafters,
Solemn voices rise and fall as thoughts elope in silence.

Tender faces turn in vain on seeking love or counsel;
Countless children walk the streets alone to mope in silence.

Shadows phase in depthless dark like phantoms but imagined;
Lost amid the shifting forms, the spurned ones grope in silence.

Clumsy creatures claw in fear and strike with fangs of venom—
Shield your heart with care, Zahhar, and hold each hope in silence.

This is my 107th ghazal.