New(ish) Poetry!

November 30, 2009 at 10:52 pm · Filed under 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.

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