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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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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).

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Tropic Rose

Joy, my wife, had asked me a long time ago if I would write a poem for Rose, one of her closest friends from the Philippines, but at the time I didn’t feel ready or capable of fulfilling her request. This is partly to do with the fact that Rose is an extremely special person and so I would not want to just write some poem for her, but a poem that actually did some degree of justice to her spirit, heart, and life.

After completing “Desert Rose” at Joy’s request for a friend of hers here in Reno, I realized that I might at last be ready to fulfill her original request. In fact, that poem is partially inspired by Rose as well, hence the title. Now this one is for Rose herself.

Tropic 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. However, the above player can still be used to listen to it.

I used the rosa grandiflora cultivar called “cherry parfait” as the model for this expanded metaphor. This is my 6th sonnet.

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Desert Rose

About a month ago, my wife asked me if I would write a poem for her friend, Jerome, titled “Rose of Reno”. She has a very close friend in the Philippines whose name is Rose, and she has come to think of Jerome as being her American counterpart. The reasons for this are of course many and personal, so I’ll leave them unsaid.

I agreed to write it, but changed the title to “Desert Rose” because I’m thinking I might write a sonnet for the “Tropic Rose” as well at some point—For balance. Actually I think Rose and Jerome would really like one another. They are both remarkable individuals who have endured much and found meaning and purpose under difficult circumstances.

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.

I used the rosa floribunda cultivar called “ebb tide” as the model for this expanded metaphor. This is my 5th Shakespearean sonnet.

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Afterglow

On January 25, Antonio, a close friend of my wife, posted a very touching status update in memory of his mother—It was her birthday. I asked my wife about his mother after reading it and later resolved to write something myself at some point. So, inspired by the love, respect, and appreciation he expressed for his mother that day, this sonnet is also written in her memory.

Afterglow

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 Shakespearean sonnet.

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Tryst

Sometimes, when love is lost, it never comes again. Or perhaps more accurately, it never fades enough for another to take its place. So, my third Shakespearean sonnet.

Tryst

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. However, the above player can still be used to listen to it.
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Inheritance

My second Shakespearean sonnet. I often think about the effects of overpopulation, which is of course disastrous. Somehow it seemed a suitable subject of focus.

Inheritance

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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Shithouse Sonnet

The first and only sonnet I’ve thus far written. After reading all of Shakespeare’s sonnets, three times each out loud, I found myself sitting in a public bathroom seeking personal relief. All around me were homedork taggings, hatefully racial comments, lewd remarks, etc. You know the drill. When I went back to my table in the restaurant I was hanging out at, I wrote this.

Shithouse Sonnet

As here you scan this product of my mind
And seek relief from some anxiety,
There is no such relief for you to find
While reading words from this society;
The troubled minds of half a nation scar
The walls about you in a base display;
Foul scribbles from the crude ones near and far
Encompass you in putrefied array;
And, even tribal markings basely claim
Some ownership of this quaint place of rest
Amid the angry notes that weakly blame
Their fellows for some anguish in their breast;
    The horror of our state is manifest
    In such grim markings by the ill-possessed.