Tag: Poem

August 2

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Vicious Cycle

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This hamster wheel of steel needs attention

A look at the exhaust and suspension

Though I look under with apprehension

My goal is always breakdown prevention

This machine ensures my place in the race

That rat race I cannot fully embrace

Figuring out how to withdraw with grace

As I find the parts I need to replace

This great car gets me where I need to go

Through traffic and downpours and blowing snow

I know it will get me there tomorrow

I need the car to get to work, it’s true

I need to work to get the car, I knew

But it also lets me do what I want to do.

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(An Arabian Sonnet)

August 1

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True Story

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Again postponing morning’s stale routine

To reach the end of the chapters last line

I’ve quietly fallen into pages rapt.

Removing myself from this fictional scene

A task that feels impossible this time

In this real-feeling, fake story I’m wrapped.

The day is getting brighter here I lay

Departure time has come and gone, I stay

Ignoring alarms, foregoing caffeine

Avoiding clock faces, lunch is unmade.

This time is luxurious and obscene

My arrival at work will be delayed

Avoiding the academic machine

Entrenched deeply in fiction unafraid.

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(An Alfred Dorn Sonnet)

July 31

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Stoneleigh

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A large gray mansion built of Wissahickon schist

With 45 rooms embellished in wood grain

Is more impressive when the details aren’t missed.

Easy to be distracted by size insane

In the small details the real wonder exists

The charm of stone flowers is hard to explain

The home’s grandeur is the point some may insist

It’s these small stone blooms that keep it from mundane

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(A Sicilian Octave Poem)

July 30

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Daucus carota

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What is the spot in the middle

Of the delicate Queen Anne’s Lace?

Surrounded by snowy white blooms

It certainly seems out of place.

*

They say Queen Anne was making lace

And tatting the designs by hand

When the needle caught her finger

A stain on the lace did expand

*

Now the flowers cover the land

Thriving in forgotten places

Far from what people call nature

Despite the life in these spaces

*

From afar all you see is white

Flowers waving across the field

It’s not until you get up close

That the colorful is revealed

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(A Redondilla Poem)

(A Serventesio Poem)

July 29

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Intricacies

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The beauty of lichens up close

As lovely as a coral reef

Tightly bound and crust-like – crustose

Diversity beyond belief

Pebble-like, clustered – squamulose

No need for SCUBA and debrief

The beauty of lichens up close

As lovely as a coral reef

*

Flat sheets and leaf-like – foliose

Closely explored in disbelief

Free-standing, branching – fruticose

A terra-firma reef motif

The beauty of lichens up close

As lovely as a coral reef

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(A Rondel Prime Poem)

July 28

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Second Life

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I can imagine

The gentle clatter

This leaf made when it

Tumbled to the ground

Brown paper bag stiff

The softest of sound

Tapping the gravel

Becoming earthbound

*

The softening starts

Rain penetrating

Intricate patterns

Of complex leaf parts

Wearing down that which

Is root counterpart

Though the leaf is downed

New life it has found

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(An Octameter Poem)

July 24

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Family Time

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The glossy cards are scattered thoughtfully

Into the table’s center with the rest.

An arm extends across the oak with grace

Collecting counters, gathering more points.

Six wrinkled elbows buttress wrists and hands

And secrets hidden cleverly behind

The mass-produced design intended to

Conceal authentic power, building doubt.

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(A Blank Verse Poem)

July 23

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From the first ten pages

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Twisted oracles swaddle the spirit reflected in flamingoes that ignite

Spontaneous sacrifice stumbles into stifling mystery

Sulky intricacies reflect deepening providence

Unspeakable mountains with gratuitous vigor cruelly vanish

Malicious water pummels absorbent blue elusiveness

Continuous dissolution absconds deflating the horizon

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(An Abstract Poem)

Inspired by words found in the first ten pages of the first chapter of The Pilgrim at Tinker Creek By Annie Dillard.

July 22

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Purple Beans

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The purple beans are ready for harvest

From long vines upon the tired old fence

Of course there’s inspection with a taste test

Please believe the fresh-picked flavor is intense

Have to be sure not to eat the whole lot

Before I can get them into the pot.

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(An English Sestet Poem)