Great Blue Yonder
awake and dreamingNew(ish) Poetry!
By request(ish) I’m posting some poetry I wrote a while back. It’s been available on facebook for most of its life, but I figured it deserved an upgrade. So here it is… enjoy… ish.
This is the first sonnet I ever wrote. I quite like it, actually:
Like a camera with new film we’re born,
And early do we learn to see the light.
We wake from dreams to look around each morn’,
And capture all we see with gifted sight.
We look about us wond’ring and amazed;
The colors swirl in textures rich and deep.
But more than blues and greens do find us dazed:
There’s beauty too in company we keep.
But action above thought is how we live;
A picture not yet printed is no use.
Inside our heads we may have thoughts to give,
But thoughts unspoken die as mere excuse.
For beauty taken in is beauty still,
But shared, we find that beauty can fulfill.
My first 2 attempts at double-dactyls… these are tough little buggers, lemme tell ya:
I.
“Poetry-schmoetry,”
Said Brittany Lundberg, who
Like to pretend that she
Hated to write.
Secretly, though (and quite
Enthusiastically)
Brittany wrote poetry
Out of delight.
2.
Hitchety-hatchety
“Lost” Season 2 brings us
odd Henry Gale, who’s of
dubious ilk.
Munching dry cereal
incomprehensibly,
Henry asks blankly, “You
guys got some milk?”
First-ever Spenserian stanza:
As age progresses on away from youth,
And knowledge equals wisdom more than pride,
We find ourselves adrift towards greater truth,
But for this truth a heavy cost provide;
Like weary traveller carried by the tide
To shore and home, where comfort likely dwells,
Who trades adventure for some quieter ride,
So we trade as our experience swells,
And watch our bodies fade, a cost that learning quells.
Imitation of Petrarch’s Sonnet #140:
Love, the constant tenant of my heart
And frequenter of all my waking dreams
Does sometimes, among all her many schemes,
Appear in life, that she might play a part.
But he who wishes Love was more than smiles,
More than words or sweet kisses goodnight -
He that seeks a baser, lewd delight -
Does scorn my love to everyone for miles.
Wherefore my love doth flee from whence she came
And vows to play her part in life no more,
And cowers – hopeless, bitter – in her shame.
Thus I will follow Love with loyal aim,
For without Love a life is truly poor,
And she that ends with honor, ends the game.
And finally, a first attempt at Ottava Rima:
Forthright
This night I’ve won the truth from you, my love;
For days, weeks, now months you’ve held it back.
I’ve waited, gasping just an inch above
The surface of still waters, deep with lack.
And like the setting-free of caged dove,
So you have loosened hold upon the black
And white-ish secret that you must impart,
And found a way to say what’s in your heart.
I’ve listened to your words and understood,
And learned that loving teaches us to learn.
I’ve given every ounce of me I could,
And wanted only wanting in return.
I’ve needed nothing more than what I should:
The need for me, as I for you do yearn.
Yet somehow what I ask is still too great,
And you are being crushed beneath its weight.
So I have heard your dark confession now,
And in my darkened state can feel relief.
For though no comfort does your truth allow,
Some comfort comes of giving into grief,
And trusting that should ever you avow
Your love to me, such vow deserves belief.
For you have offered pain with pained regret,
And for your heart my wounding I’ll forget.
That’s right… I’m back:)
So it’s been slightly longer than a week this time… some of you may have noticed.
I’m writing a tiny tidbit here to say that I’m back in business (hopefully) and will try to be more attentive this time around.
What’s new in the world of me… I finally moved into the apartment I’d been paying for for 3 months… so that was a good thing! I’m currently looking for one of those ‘real’ jobs I keep hearing about, although so far no luck…
I’m still teaching piano (and loving it more all the time). Currently working on some plans for evolving my teaching and organizing my music, etc.
Also thinking pretty seriously about joining the open mic scene again soon… got my piano all set up and music rolling around my noggin… we’ll see!
Would love it if I could keep my photography moving forward… not much else gives me the same sense of pleasure and satisfaction. I’ll let everyone know when my photo website is finished and up to date…
Hope to keep this going… any comments or suggestions are welcomed!
Peace&Love
B
just a quickie…
I’ve decided that everyday is not realistic for me, and probably not realistic for readers either. So, I’m changing my current goal of a post a day to a post a week, and I feel pretty good about that. I carry a lot around in my head from day to day, and usually boil it down to something substantial over the course of my week. I’m hoping this will offer a more concise, significant, and enjoyable experience for both me and my readers. …
On other notes, I’m expecting my camera to arrive within the next few days, and at that point I’ll be unfurling the final third of what I hope this blog to be – an outlet for my interests as they take shape, a place for discussion and connection, and a source of inspiration for both myself and those who visit.
As always, comments, criticisms, and contributions are always welcomed and greatly appreciated! Feel free to stop by anytime and say hello in whatever way suits you best:)
I have several questions and ideas floating around in my brain and will be exploring them here over the next few days. In the meantime, step outside and enjoy the lovely June weather, or step inside and enjoy the lovely weather of your own friends and family.
love to all.
that’s all for now.
Sonnets for Alex
I.
A spark. A glimmer from a tiny sphere.
A soundless, super-real explosion lights
The unseen dark. From nothing, life ignites
And you emerge; a sleeping pioneer.
You bloom within a sunless atmosphere,
Your every possibility a bright
Determined path, unknown to all who might
Desire to know; a fixed, arcane frontier.
But here and now you grow; from reddish soil
And warm wet mother’s love your cells divide,
Become the you we’ll see and know and name.
And even now, I feel my heartstrings coil
Around the you that isn’t yet, a wide
Expanse of love that’s waiting for your claim.
II.
I knew the day you’d come. I’m not sure how.
I like to think of it as part of all
The many other things that I now fall
Upon to keep my heart from breaking now.
We’d taken bets on dates that you might show;
Made light of our impatience with the sprawl
Of time ahead, a guessing-game to stall
Our restlessness, as time dripped long and slow.
I made my guess; I knew it right away,
Like from inside our mother’s womb you spoke
And I could hear; no longer “I” but “We.”
And sure enough – as though in clear display
Of where we stood – on that day you awoke,
Too early and too late for all but me.
III.
I couldn’t know what I was wishing for
When, in my lonely moments as a child
I dreamed up little siblings and beguiled
Myself for hours, though always wanting more.
And when my dreaming failed, I’d then implore
My mother’s help, and at my plea she smiled,
Saying “Someday, maybe,” vague and mild.
But “someday” always left me feeling poor.
I couldn’t know what I was dreaming of
Until the day they told me you were real,
And wishing turned to waiting after all.
I couldn’t know the boundlessness of love
Until I saw and felt and knew Ideal,
A more-than-perfect answer to my call.
IV.
Your face looked like a bird when you were born,
With open, waiting mouth and pointed nose.
When Grandpa saw you he agreed, and chose
To call you “Wren,” though now it’s long outworn.
Your tiny features grew as if to scorn
The tender nickname, like a child who throws
Away a much-loved toy that it outgrows,
And finds itself too occupied to mourn.
And yet to me, your face still looks the same,
With open, waiting eyes and pointed mind,
Though nose and mouth are different from before.
And though your job as child is to rename
Yourself to match as you are redefined,
That hungry baby bird is at the core.
V.
For every day I’ve known you I have learned.
At first I learned what ‘beautiful’ could mean,
When in your new red wrinkles I discerned
A shocking beauty, hitherto unseen.
The thing you taught me next was how to love;
I’d done that sort of thing before, I thought.
But being your big sister went above
And far beyond the love that I’d been taught.
I felt myself becoming something new,
A person that you needed me to be.
And though it seemed that I was teaching you,
I realize now that you were teaching me.
The only lesson I have failed to grasp
Is how to get my heart to now unclasp.
VI.
When looking back upon our lives so far,
I cannot help but wonder what went wrong.
You were to me the world, and still you are,
But also worlds away and pulled along
By hunger, anger, fear, mistrust – all things
I would have kept from you if I had been
In charge. And now, although my heart still clings
Unfailingly to yours, my strength wears thin.
I cannot change the past, although I would
If life allowed such choices to be made.
I’d gladly give up all the years I could,
If any could be given back. But swayed
As you have been by time we’ve lost,
I see that years are not the only cost.
VII.
My girl, the way I’ve loved you isn’t fair.
Not fair to you, for being to a child
A thing it needs – like water or like air -
And then to leave as one who’s been exiled,
To never call or write except to say
“I’m sorry that I didn’t call before,”
Is selfishness that sorrys can’t allay.
Unfair to think that love was something sure -
A changeless, timeless thing that doesn’t bend,
Or wear or break, that, once it’s grown, will thrive
Without much care, a thing not hard to mend,
A thing one doesn’t feed to keep alive.
Not fair to me, for loving so that now,
My life means little but what sorrow can allow.
VIII.
Instead of this, I want what used to be.
I want be around, to laugh and talk
And fight (no we don’t fight) and this for free,
Not where I trade in order just to knock.
Not even trade, for now my knocking sounds
Like silence to you, snow that falls on snow
Already fell. And as my fist now pounds
Your door I think instead of your window.
I toss a tiny pebble first, and think
You hear, but still the empty window stares.
I try again, this time with louder ‘clink’
And yet, no Alex through the window glares.
My desp’rate heart now reaches for a stone;
The glass is broke, but I am still alone.
IX.
I didn’t make you. From my body you
Weren’t grown or born. I didn’t give you life
Or feel the pains of motherhood break through.
My body never fed you, or my strife.
I never had to feel how, like a knife
You cut and tore your way into this world,
Your body breaking mine a bit, and rife
With joy and pain, that body to me curled.
Your mother I am not, but mother you’ve unfurled.
X.
I take each day with something like chagrin,
Now that I never see you anymore.
I know I’ll never find a way to win
Your trust again, or makes things like before.
And though I cannot possibly ignore
The hurt I’ve caused or felt by being gone,
I’ll never give up trying to restore
To life the tender love that’s been withdrawn,
And in the midst of loss, find strength to live upon.
slipping up…
I realized a few minutes too late that while I was surfing the web and doing useless, andrew bird-related things I missed my deadline to post something for today (now yesterday). I also missed my chance to invite another slew of friends from facebook (for some unknown and frustrating reason, they limit you to a certain # of invites per day). Alas, such is (my) life.
Today I was thinking that I might post a series of sonnets I wrote for my final project in my final semester at school. I haven’t published them anywhere so far, I think because they’re supposed to mean something in a deep, cathartic way and I’m afraid that once I start posting them all over the place it’ll be like a newspaper’s pages splattered over wet city streets… a dime a dozen, so to speak. But at the same time, I want them to be read so I can unburden myself of their painful weight, one that I carry everywhere, alone. I intended for there to be more than 10 sonnets in the sequence, but was overwhelmed by the enormity of that endeavor. I may go back sometime and expand on what I’ve done… but it seems unlikely. As Frost says, “…knowing how way leads on to way / I doubted if I would ever come back.”
As for the current ramblings of my heart and mind, let’s see…
I’m a disaster. Everyone who knows me knows this. I find people’s reaction to this reality somewhat entertaining. Certain people are determined to change it somehow. Some of these certain people are increasingly frustrated by my lack of progress in that direction. Others are absorbed in their own lives enough not to notice, or care. Some people – even some friends – shy away from my reality, as though it’s some kind of disease and they’re afraid it might be catching. Or perhaps they’re bored of my unchanging state of mind and being. Or disgusted? Who knows.
But as the disappointment/guilt/frustration/amusement/apathy/shock/confusion/anger at my situation grows in others, I find it diminishes in me. Why feel bad all the time when everyone else seems to want to do it for me? Okay. That wasn’t true. I don’t really feel that way. But what I do feel is that after a while, I’m so tired from all those emotions building in me and simultaneously being mirrored in the faces of people around me that I just don’t feel like feeling any of it anymore.
The depressing details of my reality don’t matter. The result is what matters. The result, as far as I can tell, is a state of mind that discourages any progress towards changing the details of my reality. This in turn leads to a worsened state of mind, and so on and so forth. I believe this is what is meant by ‘downward spiral’.
I’m darkly amused by the fact that when I was younger, I was arrogantly convinced that I would never be like the people in the movies who let their lives fall apart. I would never let things get so bad that I couldn’t or wouldn’t get out of them. I would never understand suicide. I would never live my mistakes over and over again, and I would never, ever go crazy trying to stay afloat in this world.
And just look at me now.
All I can say is that, hopeless as I may feel or seem, I’m obviously not entirely so. True hopelessness is what makes suicide a possibility, and since I’m still breathing, I’ve obviously got a few tattered shreds of hope left. As far as action is concerned, I don’t know what to do or how to do it, or even why. I have no real home, no real attachments, and no real goals. I have hopes and dreams, but as always they tend to live up in the clouds (like my head most of the time). They only allow certain visitors up there too… Money is not welcome, and Practicality usually finds “Do Not Disturb” hanging on the doorknob. Faith is afraid to approach because of a sign that reads “Beware of God.” And Follow-Through passes right on thru the open window and out the back screen door.
So for now, all I can do is pile up my thoughts like pillows here, to lay my head upon each night. I’m hoping eventually I’ll find the right ones; I’m tired of waking up with a crick in my neck.
a post a day keeps insanity at bay… i hope.
So for now, I’m just going to be trying to get into the swing of all this. I love to write, and later on I like to read what I write because I’m usually like, “Wow… that’s pretty good. I should do this more.” But starting a new creative endeavor was never my strong point, so for now, I’m just going to make sure I put something down here every day I can.
I hope that eventually this will morph into something more concrete and artistic. Something that has a direction, a purpose, or at least a style that is my own. I guess that by forcing the words out whether or not I think I’ve got something worth saying, I’ll be more likely to come across things I care about, and certainly I’ll be refining my ability to write as I stumble along.
Things I think I’ll be focusing on, for now:
1. Poetry – I want to post my creative writings here, and get feedback, new ideas, and challenges from others.
2. Photography – I want to share my pictures on an artistic level (to see personal stuff you can always visit my facebook page;)
3. Wonderings – I want to explore the constant stream of thoughts in my head, and attempt/learn to analyze, synthesize, shape, edit, refine, adapt, polish, and understand them. And I want to hear your thoughts back.
That’s all for now. For now.
arm’s-length…
I keep waiting for the right time to start this blog. I think now is the right time. Now is as good a time as any.
I’ve asked myself over and over: “Self, what do you want out of this life?” Ok, I never call myself “self.” That part was a lie. The rest is true enough though. What – in all the moments, colors, feelings, doings, explorations and dreamings – what is it that matters most to me?
This question is not as easy as it sounds. You’d think it would be one of the easier things to answer; “What do I want?” . . . how hard is that? If we can’t know that, it seems we can’t know anything.
But then I think maybe that’s the wrong way of looking at things. Maybe it’s those kinds of questions that give us the most trouble, because they require a sense of self that many – most? – of us never achieve. Not to say we’re all in a fog our whole lives as concerns our true selves. Well actually, yes. That’s exactly what I’m saying. I think most of us are in a fog our whole lives as concerns our true selves.
Why is this? (I should say rather “Why do I think this?”) …Well, I think this because maybe we weren’t intended to “know” anything, least of all ourselves. Maybe there isn’t anything to “know,” and searching for the answers (that don’t exist?) makes us more confused than if we just went along without the probing, thinking, pondering, perseverating, and worrying, and just lived.
I guess this didn’t go where I intended, since the title I put down initially has little to do with the rest. Hah… well if that doesn’t prove my point I don’t know what does. What I meant to say was this: Life is hard. Life is confusing. I know it’s also beautiful, but sometimes the foginess makes it hard to see anything else. I’m waiting for the fog to clear.
