In the spirit of National Poetry Month, I’ll share a few of mine, what ideas or situations inspired them, and which poet’s styles influenced them. When I was growing up, there were books by e.e. cummings, Leonard Cohen, Edgar Allen Poe, Yeats, Frost, Kerouac, Basho, Rumi and others lining the bookshelves. So many styles of poetic expression to explore and learn from. Add to that the books of songs from many of my parents favorite musicians, and the poems and songs in the Lord of the Rings books I started reading at an early age, it’s no wonder I dabble in all these things.
Here are a few of my own, some previously published and others not.
time delay
had I had a handy handle
on anything at the time
my i might have missed
the fallout from the line
whereas
without the wherewithal
to withstand
the demented demolitions
in psycho culture landmines
its
explosion
was
extraordinarily
effing
ERUPTIVE
&
I was quite concussed.
“Time delay” received some positive feedback from a literary journal, but was never published til now. It is probably the most obvious which of my influences is at work here. There is a poem in the book “100 Poems” in which e.e. cummings describes a slow motion explosion and that was the part of that poem which inspired this bit of wordplay. In mine, I’m toying with words that begin with the same letter or sound, and describing my allergic reactions to the culture in my country in my younger days. Now, it is safe to say that I do have a handy handle on things. TD was written in 2016.
Intangible
the ghost that walks
through this venerable house
is long past gone
–yet it walks on
the places it made for itself
fallen into ruin, crumbling day by day
it dreams old dreams, retraces old steps
where other spirits fade away
the deep bells toll
the cemeteries fill
with every other soul
it strides onward still
the haunts change
but the fabled weight of ages
finds the stubborn wight unchanged
where other spirits fade away
the ghost still roams
through this weird world
it’s long past gone
–yet it walks on
the dreams it dreamed for itself
fallen into ruin, crumbling day by day
it finds new places, learns new steps
where other spirits fade away
Intangible first appeared in the Fall 2017 issue of Dark Gothic Resurrected Magazine, and later on Instagram where I posted a picture of the poem in print. It is harder to say which of my favorites influenced this one, and it is about the feeling I’ve sometimes had as I’ve grown older. As friends or family members or people I’ve known pass away, and I’ve somehow kept going, despite some serious situations that might have gone the other way.
“Sonnetra”
Though it flows in the course of honeyed words Or silent, certain gestures ever thus made Akin it is to fabled springs in enchanted wards Ambrosia in our cavernous world of shade There are two truths that define it forevermore It may flow from lie and return to lie It flows in spite our desire that it die Felt, unfelt--it writes all our tearful lore In all the days that will define our time Its storm rolls in, and passes beyond Ere the days diminish, this much is clear Hold fast thy course, or by phantom lights steer Onward, ever onward where thou desires't remain Above all, have a care, in thy travels here That thee does it thine way!
“Sonnetra” was one weird idea. The last line came to me first, and the title is kind of a pun. I don’t know where these ideas come from, people…I just roll with them. I’ve only written a few of these in my life, and there is not much call for sonnets these days. It is the age old observation that love sucks, and you might as well just love yourself first and do what you need to do for you. For this one, I really tried to channel Edgar Allen Poe for the style and just to carry the idea to its conclusion. It is obviously a riff off Sinatra’s “I did it my way” and it amused me to imagine either Chris Hemsworth or Tom Hiddleston singing this sonnet to that tune in full Thor regalia. It is almost as “out there” as the poem “Contrast” which appeared here some time ago.
So, there you are. Just some poems to celebrate National Poetry Month. One day, they will all be part of a collection, even the weird ones. Until then, I recommend some of the other poets I’ve been reading lately. Billy Collins, Andrei Codrescu, Erin Belieu, and Sandra Hochman.
Poetry can be profound in a few lines. Three, or one hundred and three. It is also sometimes just fun to play with words. It is great to read at any time, but is especially helpful if you find yourself in a rut. Then you can turn to the mystical musings of Rumi, or just experience the raw thoughts of someone else, and see your own humanity reflected in whatever kind of fun house mirror that person has going on. If nothing else, it will probably give you ideas.