| July 17, 2010 Summer My cat, 14 years old striped brown and beige with greying back and ears and feet lies stretched as flat as a dime upon the pavement, barely breathing in the heat. Her little toes twitch as she dreams, who knows what dreams while I'm sitting here in my uncomfortable body, hot - wondering if it's OK to relax - Shouldn't I be doing something? There is progress to be made! But why? For what? Do we need permission to be idle from time to time? I'm not answering the phone, I've decided, and I lean back in my chair. My cat senses my nervous stirring as I write this, and tip-toes off to lie in the cool tall grass on the other side of the house as a car blaring Peter Frampton loudly drives by. ***
After the Storm
Wet leaves red and yellow torn by wind from the tree as you walk by you remember last night ~cmw 07/17/10
This is an experiment to keep to the sestina form - I tried doing it in Iambic pentameter as well, since I read that English sestinas are written in iambic. So, it's a first draft and an experiment, but...it was fun. I learned that it is important to chose the first 6 words you use at the end of your first 6 lines carefully since you will be repeating them throughout the poem. Mine were: house, floors, throughout, doors, walls, and pain. Ugh. Not easy to work with those words! For the rules on the form, see Heather Fowler's page or her comments on my wall.
Baptism 1 I had a dream about an empty house 2 maze-like, sterile; white walls on all floors. 3 paintings hung in perfect rows throughout; 4 spaces in between them and the doors 5 created patterns, shadows on the walls 6 reflecting light and dark and love and pain. 6 The host was elegant, betrayed no pain 1 proudly taking guests throughout the house 5 smiling as he walked, caressed the walls 2 and spoke about the art on all three floors 4 I wandered by myself between the doors 3 admiring art’s opulence throughout 3 Several guests meandering throughout 6 oblivious to any signs of pain 4 hidden in the canvas, behind doors, 1 laughed so carelessly in this man’s house - 2 their footsteps echoed loud upon wood floors 5 and fingerprints smudged black the whitest walls. 5 Not only were the paintings on the walls 3 expressionist and modernist throughout 2 Several, as I said, on all three floors - 6 they somehow soothed, an antidote to pain 1 the only colors brightening the house 4 yet ravens seemed to lurk behind the doors 4 but suddenly came bursting through the doors 5 young people, thundering, the weakest walls 1 and running, dancing, skipping through the house 3 sang songs of sacrament and joy throughout 6 so any creature crippled in his pain 2 felt light, for angels crossed these wretched floors 2 and even as the angels swept the floors 4 ravens sulked quietly ‘hind doors 6 the host, forever shackled to his pain 5 was graced with heaven scattered ‘cross the walls 3 inseparable from paint and light throughout 1 the joyous art was spread throughout the house 6, 2 so if a pain seeps in beneath the floors 1, 4 within your house, look well behind the doors 5, 3 and on your walls do keep fine art throughout ***** The World is Too Much With Us | ||
| by William Wordsworth | ||
The world is too much with us; late and soon, Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers; Little we see in Nature that is ours; We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon! This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon; The winds that will be howling at all hours, And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers, For this, for everything, we are out of tune; It moves us not.--Great God! I'd rather be A pagan suckled in a creed outworn; So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn; Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea; Or hear old Triton blow his wreathèd horn. **** | ||
7/17/08
Poetry is Agony
by cmw
****
by cmw
****
Every word is heavy
Like Serra sculpture
I’m not a magician
Who conjures up baubles and bangles
Dripping from my fingers
With stardust sprinkled,
With stardust sprinkled,
Tangled up in gold thread
Woven between your limbs
Woven between your limbs
And golden hair
With sunlight dancing
Across the fields of heather
No, I’m in agony
Like the ecstasy of St. Theresa
Like the ecstasy of St. Theresa
Pierced by golden spear of angels
Through my heart with arched chest
And searing warm pain, but a pleasure
That can only come from God.
9/23/09
........................
Tall As A Tree
by cmw
by cmw
.. ..
If I knew how
I would write you a poem
Tall, and as tough
As you are,
Like a tree
*
I’d water it down
Give it a sprinkling
Cover its roots
Until it was heavy
And you saw it
Growing
*
Only in that place
Between sleeping
And dreaming
I carve words
out of darkness
but even then
They are lost
In the morning
*
.. ..
10/30/09
Driving
by cmw
*
by cmw
*
Driving is like a meditation
A long snake in the grass
With blue-green eyes that gleam
Winding along a road that twists and turns
Its way for miles
She smells the view and tastes
the sound of fog rolling in
Mile after mile
Early, and then, later
The sun
As if meant for Annie alone
peeks through her windshield as she drives.
There is no time for idle thoughts now,
for Annie is on the lam,
telling no one but the wind
and eight elephant seals;
they bark and laugh, mocking
her secret journey
Once in Big Sur, she'll call him;
She'll call John and tell him
about the fresh beet and citrus salad
she ate in Cambria.
The coffee wasn't so good, but c'est la vie!
Si tu m'aime, tu viennes la prochaine fois
If you love me, you'll come next time.
If you love me, rain will come.
Like when we were in Paris:
We ate and slept well, there, didn't we?
The winding road of intuition
brings us back to life.
