MAY PoemsHere are some selected poems from May. They are still drafts, not final versions, so please ask permission before sharing (except by linking to this website.) Thank you.
150529
TWIXT CUP AND LIP
We’re alike in this (me, you).
In calm moments,
we think things through
or just intuit what is true.
We know much better than we do.
All Poems—These are my poems from April. There are several reasons why I included all of them rather than making selections… Including the good, bad, and ugly may help readers better understand poem creation… None require being kept private… The variety demonstrates how poetry can serve as one’s diary, sounding board, imaginative play, spiritual practice, and therapy. (As usual, these poems are still drafts, not final versions, so please ask for permission before sharing, except by linking to this website. Thank you.)
150430
SERENITY NOW
One day
I’m in a furious tantrum
over something.
Next day
I can’t even remember
the cause.
Each day
I learn to forget
a little quicker.
Some day
I will simply forget
immediately.
Voilà! —instant peace.
[ASIDE: “Serenity now!!!” was the theme
of one Jerry Seinfeld episode that I found
impressive and insightful.]
Follow your heart by following your inspiration… This mode continues for me as I create designs according to inner guidance. Actually, inspiration can come from anywhere, but promptings to act must be validated by intuition or strong resonance. Literal affirmations are leading contenders for fulfillment, but anything inspiring, beautiful, fun, or whimsical can be considered.
Yes, the “Villanelle” verse form relates to villas, or at least to villagers. Possibly, it derived from the work songs sung by Italian peasants as they tended crops.
As a poet, why have I avoided traditional forms so long? …Arrogance, laziness, freedom, efficiency—or what? My response is: All of the above, plus a good dose of fear. To me, it seemed a violation of an emergent poem’s integrity to stuff it in a straitjacket of just so many lines, beats per line, rhyme patterns, or even a prescribed mood or theme. “Let the poem make its own choices,” I protested, considering myself more midwife than mother. Besides, following all those writing rules is hard work.
Some poems come instantly.
Others come as a spark that has to be instantly kindled. Still others are like sand-castles-in-the-making on a shore; the vision must be held and refined intensely all the while the tide recedes.
Artists (and others) who love their work understand the meditative suspension of time and distraction that occurs in “the zone.” Whole days can be absorbed in that state. Of the two poems that follow, the first came quickly (though not instantly) and the second took a good bit of post-construction. Continue reading