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Stumble

This is written for someone who stumbled some years ago. The fall was severe enough that there was the very real possibility of never being able to recover and live a normal life. This is not the sort of fall that involves scraped hands and knees, but the kind that involves a severe lapse in judgment—A psycho-spiritual fall. But, over time, this person has shown everyone a willingness to grow that is beyond anyone’s wildest expectations. A new chapter now begins for this being, and we are all filled with hope and wish the absolute best.

Stumble

For someone with potential

A shadow stirred within the hollows of your heart
  and writhed amid the shallows of your mind;
  it fell across your visage—left you blind
to choices that would raise you up from out the dark
and set you on a course to apprehend rewards
  reserved for those whose spirits are aligned
  with empathy and wisdom intertwined—
And blinded thus you faltered, fell, and landed hard.

    But it takes light to cast the blackest shadow,
  and this is light that you have learned to see.
You’ve gotten up again despite the grief and shame
    and found you have a bright new path to follow.
  You’re wiser now and touched with empathy,
so you should never fail and fall so hard again.

This is my 5th Petrarchan sonnet.

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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.

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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.

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The Boulder Climber

My “shift partner”, as they’re called where I now work, is an avid boulder climber. Now, these aren’t the boulders that might jump to mind when you mouth the word in your thoughts. Oh no, we’re not talking those waist-high gray things that might roll out onto the highway in the rain or those head-high bits of granite you might find near a stream bed. No—By “boulder” these particular climbers mean these great big lumps of stone that loom up over your head by as much as 50 feet.

Since my shift partner talks so much about boulder climbing during the wee hours of the night, I thought I’d try my hand at molding the little-known sport to a metaphor and see how that goes.

The Boulder Climber

She is the first to climb this route through life,
  to feel her way through all its nuances
  to where the summit slopes and vanishes
away from view above the concave cliff.
The way ahead is sheer—without relief;
  she reaches, probes, and feels for blemishes
  within the rock to serve as purchases
from which to make her way through bruise and chafe.

Patience is the key above all else
    to moving gracefully from hold to hold;
  she contemplates an overhang, then leaps
  to grab a ledge beyond her body’s reach;
    her feet swing free, but then she hooks a heel
and muscles past the crux to higher realms.

This is my 2nd Petrarchan sonnet. My first was part III of “Coming Together”, which was also a synthetic ode.

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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.

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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”.

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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.

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Understanding

This somewhat tells the story of a poem I started in December of 2010, which may now be close to completion. I was only able to get moving forward with it when I finally accepted that I am not currently able to manifest its full potential, so I’m settling for the best I can manage instead. The idea is that hopefully, one day, I will be able to come back and revise it to its full potential. But, it is also possible also that the words simply don’t exist for what I wish to accomplish, hence this simple “understanding”.

Understanding

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.
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One for Each

After learning about the mass killings in Newtown, CT, we are keeping vigil tonight. I think we all are.

One for Each

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.
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to rest

This is a complete rewrite of a ghazal written in November of 2002. For some reason, I titled that original ghazal “*poof*”. Yes, with the asterisks. Having entered every title of every poem I’ve written in my adult life into a database, I can safely point out that this is the only poem I have ever titled in such a manner. I must have been feeling apathetic the day I completed the original. I’m not making “*poof*” available here because it’s really not worth sharing.

This rewrite extends the ghazal by one more couplet and the meter by two feet. It extends the rhyme to include partial consonance while keeping the radiff (or refrain) and it trades the use of my pen-name for allusion to one of its meanings in the final couplet. And, of course, it is now something I feel more comfortable sharing with my readers.

to rest

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.

Since the original has been completely rewritten, this becomes my 134th ghazal.

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Coming Together

I have known Kayla for nearly ten years, since she was maybe 13. Now in about a week she’s getting married already. We met at a site centered on interactions around the subject of poetry. I don’t quite remember how we started talking, but it of course involved the subject of poetry. I do remember that for years she would ask me to task her with writing projects, which she would diligently work at and complete. Today she actually credits me with having taught her a lot.

A few months back, she asked me if I would commemorate her wedding with a poem, saying it would mean a lot to her. I’ve tried to accommodate her request. Hopefully she’ll like.

Coming Together

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 poem is a synthetic ode, my 4th. Since the synthetic ode can contain other forms within it, so long as certain semantic and structural guidelines are met, and since I was playing with sonnets anyway, this poem also contains my 7th and 8th Shakespearean sonnets (parts I and II), and my 1st Petrarchan sonnet (part III).