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reality

The greatest tragedy I know is not being able to realize ones creative, academic, or professional potential after becoming aware that such potential exists. Not everyone is mentally and/or psychologically geared to survive in a cutthroat world while at the same time pursuing a creative interest. Most jobs demand a great deal of mental energy and psychological involvement to such a degree that there is no energy left at the end of the day for anything but recovery and recuperation. For such people, life ended long before the day they actually died.

reality

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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contrition

There are many reasons behind an individual’s behaviors. We are complex creatures, conditioned by complex histories. So complex, in fact, that we rarely understand ourselves what motivates us. But it is worthwhile to try to gain insight into and an understanding of those motivations. These insights and understandings can guide a process of change and personal growth, and an honest contrition for past behaviors that may have caused harm to others, and ourselves.

contrition

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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moods

My 128th ghazal, inspired by a woman with deep brown eyes.

moods

a clarity settles deep in her soft amber eyes
and peace wells up from nearly fathomless eyes

adventure lures the heart to the mystery
of sidelong glances cast from her earthen eyes

imagination paves her path with promise
where patience lightly walks with brownstone eyes

hope found refuge under the feathery green
of one long look into her mahogany eyes

she cheers the sunbathed home of inspiration
with a glittering veneer of cherry-wood eyes

love tastes of strawberry kisses beneath dark curls
coated with the cream of her dark chocolate eyes

compassion sways against the sprawling skies
praying up to the stars with terrestrial eyes

Instead of qafiya, or that species of rhyme that occurs just before the radif (refrain), I used words loosely hyponymous with the color brown for an associative parallelism.

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subjectivity

Just did a little reading about an old Russian art movement called suprematism, manifesto and all. Kind of a curious thing. It was originated by an artist, Kazimir Malevich, around 1913, and he declared the movement ended in 1920. The only art movement I can think of whose originator eventually decided to end it. Never mind, though, Malevich was apparently charismatic enough to draw in a few adherents to suprematism, who continued creating supposedly suprematist artwork and writing (one Russian poet played with it) well after Malevich ended his movement. I guess if you don’t want something to take on a life of its own, don’t publicize it.

Anyway, Malevich was inspired by cubism and futurism to start this movement. In effect, suprematism is a sort of combination of the two. Cubism is basically artwork comprised of representational industrial shapes and angles like cubes and circles. Futurism is the extreme abstraction of the same.

Malevich, apparently, saw some metaphysical connections and called his attempt to bring them out ‘suprematism’.

So, here’s my stab at it, just for metaphysical cubist kicks.

subjectivity

clear your mind white
empty the canvas of thought

paint a black circle
a ring of smoke

outside is all the void
inside the void of self

scrape the inner edge
with a triangle’s black points

spirit thought and body
trapped within the void

now fill the black triangle
with questions feelings doubts

a snail crushed underfoot
a daughter crushed by steel

a spider’s shriveled figure
a mother’s crinkled corpse

a fly smashed by the swatter
a son smashed by debris

a red fox snared in iron
a father trapped in credit

it all lasts but a moment
the circle snaps and fades

and the triangle’s edges scatter
to join the canvas white

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spires

A ghazal! I haven’t written a ghazal since June of 2005. So that makes this—what?—my 127th. Feels nice to get one out again. I remember I got real tired of them by the end of my ghazal project a few years ago, but I never really intended to abandon them altogether.

With this one I veer away from using my penname in the signature couplet (last couplet) to using a reference to one of my penname’s meanings. In this poem it’s “open skies”, since “vast openness to the heavens” is one of the Arabic meanings for ‘Zahhar’.

spires

let’s twine our roots beneath the world together
until we rise against the wind together

let’s turn and reach to gather shades of light
with countless long thin leaves that wave together

let’s make a bed beneath our outstretched limbs
shaded by the dreams we weave together

let’s draw clear waters from the hidden earth
and breathe them out as vapors washed together

let’s share the sounds of creeks and faint cicadas
their rhythmic songs like magic wound together

let’s shelter soft brown trails among the fern
where lovers holding hands may walk together

let’s filter daylight from the open skies
through daydreams spun like amber webs together

Publication History:

Art Arena (web-based) — March 2007

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beads

I found myself writing this in response to a blog post someone made at MySpace, back when I had a MySpace account. She was one of two girls who used to make it a point to sit at my table when they saw me at Denny’s or one of the local coffee houses. I never understood why. When they did, they would strike up completely random conversation. I just entertained them like a good host since I didn’t see the harm.

At some point they found my MySpace account and sent me friend requests, which I accepted. The younger one, while intelligent and intriguing in her own right, had an unusually strong negative streak which she would spill into her blog like an acid.

beads

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.

After responding to her bitter tirade with this poem, she and her friend soon lost interest in me. Kind of strange since I was under the impression that they were curious about me because I would sit in the coffee houses or at Denny’s working on poems, which they would ask about. Ah well.

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unperched

Some people seem to think of relationships—intimate, platonic, or professional—simply as a means of subjugating others to their will through emotional and/or financial dependency. Such people will encourage you to become emotionally and/or financially dependent upon them so that they can then use this as as leverage.

If you start to act or think too independently of what they like then they’ll distance themselves from you or suddenly become stingy as punishment. And if you persist with such independent behavior, they will eventually sever all ties and bid adieu, convinced to the core that they have just destroyed your life in retribution for not subjugating yourself entirely to their will. But, the reality is that people are more complex than this and, generally, the will to survive and move on is very strong.

unperched

perhaps you forgot that
    birds have wings

perhaps you failed to realize
    clipped feathers regrow

the downy breast will fight
    the storm for freedom

clawed feet will grip a cold
    wet branch for shelter

the beak by night will fold
    in its own soft shield

and by day peck out
    its hard won forage

but never will it probe again
    the ruins of its nest

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timelines

Things change over the years. We grow up and away from childhood and any abuse endured therein. If we’re lucky, we one day come to realize that we now live in a different timeline, one where those traumas are but dreamlike memories only half recalled.

timelines

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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The Mother

Wrote this while sitting in a Starbucks in the Portland area. A woman sat across from me with her infant child, and I found myself moved by the way she interacted with him—and reflective of the disparity between that infant’s experience and my own.

The Mother

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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Stardrift

Written for Mahmud Kianush, a poet from Iran who used a couple of my ghazals in part of a BBC radio series covering the history and evolution of the Persian ghazal. It was a 12 or 13 part series, broadcast in Persian, and my ghazals were included toward the end as examples of how the ghazal form had found its way into other cultures and languages.

Having my work with the ghazal recognized by an Iranian scholar in this manner meant a lot to me. Thus was I moved to write and dedicate this ghazal to him. Most of the imagery is derived from his book of poems, Of Birds and Men, published in 2004 by The Rockingham Press.

Stardrift

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.

Publication History:

Art Arena (web-based) — July 2005

The Ghazal Page (web-based) — April 2006

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My Love

Yes, she made quite an impression at the time. I hope she’s doing well out there in the world, free of drama and surrounded by good people.

My Love

In all my days of love and loss, I never once have pined, my love,
As here I pine beneath the night, longing to know your mind, my love.

Of all the ways these feet have trod, in places bleak and bright, my love,
The way I favor most to go is where we walk in kind, my love.

In all the airy lands abroad, I never once have found, my love,
A peace that permeates my soul, as when we rest entwined, my love.

Of all the treasures I have found, of jasper and of jade, my love,
You are by far the fairest gem, by far my greatest find, my love.

In any clime upon the earth, wherever you may go, my love,
If you will have me, I will join, however trails may wind, my love.

Of all the pain this heart has known, the thought of losing you, my love,
Promotes a deeper terror, still, than thoughts of going blind, my love.

Zahhar can only love your heart, that shines like polished gold, my love,
So patience in this love for you can never fall behind, my love.

This is my 125th ghazal.