The desert is an endless source of poetic inspiration. Here is a tanka to the deserts of Southern Nevada and California.
desert song
Publication History:
Blackmail Press (web-based) — Spring 2006
This poem, my 7th villanelle, is inspired by the visual and psycho-spiritual effects of cloudscapes moving up the canyon where I live in Brooktrails, near Willits, California. The clouds rise up the canyon all the way from Willits, which is 10 some odd miles away. They phase through tall redwoods and bold madronas as they obscure plots and houses in heavy shifting mists that reveal and reconceal a hidden world of thought and green.
Cloud
Publication History:
The Lyric — Spring 2004
Illuminations — Spring 2005
There is a State Nature Reserve of old growth coastal redwoods called Montgomery Woods about 30 miles west of Ukiah, California. On full moons nights, as the great sky-pearl climbs toward zenith, I’ll drive out to this reserve and walk the three mile loop through these woods, up one side of the long narrow vale and back down the other.
This poem, my 6th villanelle, reflects upon those walks and their effects on my being.
Night Walk
Inspired by my many full moon walks in the Montgomery Woods, a State Nature Reserve of old growth redwoods about 30 miles west of Ukiah, California, this poem—my 4th villanelle—invites you to leave the wide and beaten path to venture into the mystic unknown of personal exploration. This “path by moon” is a metaphor for the discovery and pursuit of ones own unique path in life.
Path by Moon
Publication History:
Zephyr (web-based) — May 2004
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
The Yukon River is perhaps a soul-mate of sorts. Without her, I don’t think I could have made the transition from adolescence into adulthood. This is a tribute to her remarkable spirit. I’ve found the time and resources to make my way to her great waters twice in my life. I hope there will be at least a third and fourth time before my days are done.
Yukon Tributary
High in the heavens the cirrus brightly flow;
Skyline nimbus fold in a sightly flow.
Adrift on a river swelled by the melted snow,
Swift I float where the waters lightly flow.
The winds fold down the treetops where they blow,
Crossing splendors broad in sprightly flow.
Here on the currents, many days drifting slow,
A peace swells in my heart with rightly flow.
At night the lucid heavens dance and glow,
I watch with tearing eyes their nightly flow.
What clarity Zahhar could ever know,
Is here where thoughts are still and slightly flow.
This is my 28th ghazal.
This is inspired by the ocean, the powerful living waters of the earth. I suppose there isn’t much more to say about it.
Living Waters
The voice of nature sings on crashing waves,
Full might of her heart expressed in dashing waves.
Despite their all encompassing thunderous din,
What brilliant peace is wrought by clashing waves!
Nature’s essence foams on roaring waters;
Her spirit flows in sanative plashing waves.
Unparalleled in all the spanning lands,
Unbridled beauty leaps on flashing waves.
Bound in dance with the ageless circling moon,
In tandem rise and fall the smashing waves.
What, of all viable forces, can move the soul
More than the power and grace of pashing waves?
Carved throughout the pass of coursing ages,
Endless the shores are shaped by lashing waves.
Often alone Zahhar stands watching in awe
The awful wonder and life in thrashing waves.
This is my 21st ghazal.
Publication History:
LYNX (web-based) — October 2002
I am posting this as a backlogged post to the day it was written. Presently it is November 2, 2012. It is very likely this poem was inspired by my early walks in Montgomery Woods, an old-growth coastal redwood preserve about 30 miles west of Ukiah, CA.
These Aged Pines
Amid a lush fern carpet stand perpending pillars;
Lost in the closing cover, rise impending pillars.
A constant calm hangs in the quiet shaded gloom
Beneath enshrouding shelter of attending pillars.
Ringlets firm encircle ancient seasoned hearts,
Shielded deep within the broad suspending pillars.
Silent witness to the flow of countless ages,
A subtle presence grows amid ascending pillars.
More than stately; more than magnificently made,
High up into the heavens reach transcending pillars.
Zahhar forgets a thousand woes among these giants,
A torn heart held uplifted by extending pillars.
This is my 19th 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.
I have always felt a peculiar connection with the moon, like an enchantment. I suppose this is true for most people. She does, after all, tug at the very molecules from which we’re formed and influence the tidal flows of our chemistries.
Moonset
Upon a streaming cloudscape floats directive moon;
Like a feather falling drifts perfective moon.
Soundless autumn breezes rustle unseen leaves—
Silhouettes of trees beneath projective moon.
Moonlight flickers faintly, cast through broken shroud;
Gently in descent retreats respective moon.
Shifting slow and silent against the depths of night,
Radiant vapors phase below reflective moon.
Soundless on horizon, a cloud-like dragon flies,
Final hues reflecting from far prospective moon.
Still, serene, amazed, Zahhar observes alone,
Distant shimmering moods of our affective moon.
This is my 17th ghazal.
Publication History
The Ghazal Page (web-based) — August 2003
There can be something disturbingly organic about the appearance of winter trees beneath moonlit clouds. Thought the imagery deserved a tanka.
winter trees
capillaries form
in the softly moonlit clouds
and weave together
merged into the fibrous veins
that reach deep beneath the earth
