Just another poetry thread from me. I may also post editorials I have written about poetry. I will also link my DeviantART page for each poem, since it's my main literature community online nowadays.
Here's a sonnet that I wrote a little while back as part of a collaborative crown of sonnets.
Without Excuse We lie, drunk on the star froth of cosmic beer, Deceived by senses much too limited And minds that toward the vast unknown hold fear And trembling trepidation. We fidgeted For trifles, treasured things we claimed Would be as natural as deepest space, Answered questions we ourselves had framed To boost us up into the highest place. We lie, for we have fallen drunk and drained Of vision seeing what was made unseen. The cosmos cries, so greatly is it pained By gullibility so great and green, That we have built our everything On metamorphic elements, and sing.
And out emerges a fair butterfly That, born of struggle, feebly flaps her wings. They, like her chrysalis, are shriveled dry, And pump lethargic blood through veins like strings: Concerted circulation to the tune Of flowers ripened in their brightest bloom Beneath the ultraviolet of the noon, An overload from former dark and gloom. Her first flight takes her to a little leaf Where remnants of the morning dew remain. She thirsts. The dewdrop is such sweet relief; To tear her world apart was quite the strain. Within the waterdrop a current stirs The glassy sphere once void, now felt by her.
This is a modified version of the first poem I ever posted on AG, which won the poetry contest on "Tea." I changed it into a sonnet petit.
The Love of One What were the dying thoughts of falling first From branches to a steaming, boiling hell? As lifeblood ebbed in bitter streams, what thirst Could justify that gruesome deathly knell? What color was that leaf before it died? The fresh young green of fruitful, peaceful springs? Or like the cauldron gleaming, open wide, That bronzed complexion only autumn brings? What love was this, that one death led to bliss?
Though dusky clouds obscure the rising sun, Their darkened billows smothering the sky, The spell of night shall always come undone By penetrating light that flows from high.
Emotions as the sunrise fills my eyes, As dusk gives way to dawn I realize:
I do not love that which I loved before, Or rather now it seems to be quite small Compared to him who loved us so much more, His life for ours, his sacrifice for all.
He lay interred, and mourners came to weep, But stones and guards could not his body keep. Though circumstances plunged him to the deep, He pulled our spirits from their mortal sleep.
What happens to a dream deferred? It's like a rider dragged through dirt With heel in stirrup, spurs like hooks. From horse to mustang, that's all it took: A shot in the dark and nary a word.
What happens when your plans go broke? A tumbleweed fleeing from the smoke Of torches searching reddened earth, A-tumblin' away for what it's worth, A tangled mass of rimless spokes.
What happens when a vision fades? The doctor's eyes dart and evade, The slightest stammer, beading sweat. Though you can't help but feel upset, It's some relief the truth's conveyed.
What happens when life intervenes? The coffin-man has kids to wean. The desert plain is short on wood So costs are high. It's understood The nails are plenty, the planks are lean.
What's it like to feel olden times dying? It's hearing the mission priest's sermonizing Of times from two thousand years ago With hands folded together and head bowed all low, And realizing all through this time you've been crying.
What's left to do? What happens next? The hole is dug for our respects, "He's in a better place, I'm sure," The desert flowers reassure. It hurts less, but I'm still perplexed.
What happens when a dream is meant to die? Does it matter to know the how or the why? It's time to fly, don't keep it pinned, So it's gone with the wind, gone with the wind, Gone within moments up into the sky, Gone that another comes passing you by.
Haha, I support it would have that effect. The person who commissioned me was a Texan, and I think she liked it. The allusion wasn't intentional, but I was loath to change it without changing the whole stanza.
Texans, grrr. One moment they're pretty chill. Then they go off about how beef is BBQ too.
Hehe, it probably stems more from me being a native Charlestonian, and wanting to go to the same school whose cadets fired the girst shots of the Civil War. Ir may be I just really like the movie and history. ^^
But again, it's a great piece. Structurally I'm challenged to find any faults. So you should definately post more, yes?
The pressing feeling one feels in the marrow That seems to squeeze each drop out of the bone Like toothpaste from a tube that's wrung out narrow And rolled up tighter than a pebble-stone. Both dabblers and professionals are prone To fall into this uncreative curse. The young, the old, all certainly bemoan The tight'ning of imagination's purse. Alas, how long, how far must I traverse This desert clime that robs me of my rhyme And leaves me not a verse so very terse Amidst the arid sands and filthy grime? Take heart, O sojourner fit to expire, Take calm inspire, though the times be dire.
Beneath his helmet, tears are in his eyes, Though tall he stands before the battle line. He feels that swell of raw emotion rise, Beneath his helmet, tears are in his eyes. But in that proud array, it's no surprise: No fear or grief are in those tears that shine. Beneath his helmet, tears are in his eyes, Though tall he stands before the battle line.
The child passed by my seat with empty palms And begged for love to fill its soulful eyes. For 'twas not hunger nor the need for alms That left the waif so piteous in guise. She had her home, if four walls and a roof Was all the meaning she should yet require; But in that place all hearts remained aloof, A negligence deserving of all ire. She stood in place; I stood and turned my face.
