Enclosure–dVerse Poetics

Enclosure
a Sonnet for Linda

I stand in darkness looking out the door.
Dim lights reflect in puddles on the street.
The night is young, but fear comes to the fore-
front of my soul as I admit defeat.

Imprisoned in my heart, I flee what waits
beyond the boundaries of this world I know—
imagining those things my mind creates—
(the pain) rejected oft’ so long ago.

To taste despair, so hopeless to move on,
I turn away, drink silently of fate
and pray for morn to bring a gentle dawn—
my garden, flowers, trees inside my gate.

Perhaps someone will come when I am dead,
scatter my ashes in that world I fled.

With Lillian as hostess for dVerse Poetics, we are writing about doors. I searched my photo archives and this photo of our front door made me think of someone I loved much who suffered from agoraphobia for years. When she died, the family released white doves. I trust she is free at last.

The doors to the pub open at 3:00 PM EST. I hope this prompt will open those creative doors for you.

Risk

Photo: thedutchrose.blogspot.com

Risk
A Sonnet

The more you have of love, the more you need,
yet all you have has failed to satisfy.
Now open wide the door to ecstasy;
you’ve gifts and grace just waiting to be freed.

You parrot words you hear the other say.
Do feelings flow from deep within your heart?
Are you afraid to breathe, to do your part—
surrendering yourself when others may

withhold response, ignore, abuse your trust?
Abandoning reserve is fraught with fear.
But if you never dare to shed a tear,
you’ll find no love, but only fleeting lust.

Oh, Self, these words could open you to pain.
The choice is yours. So will you live in vain?

Initially written for and linked to dVerse Poets Open Link Night. Linking on Valentine’s Day to The Bardo Group‘s invitation to share poems of love.

Jacaranda Rain–an Experiment in Line and Meter

Photo: David Slotto
All Rights Reserved

Jacaranda Rain–Free Verse

I am
the sun that slips
through blinds, half-closed.
Painting saffron stripes
on adobe walls.

I am
a bolt of fire
lighting up the skies,
singeing trees on mountain tops,
splitting limbs.

I am
the sheltered branches of Mulberry tree.
Broad leaf umbrella
shading you at noontime.

I am
the dance of light upon the moon,
hiding my passion behind
swaying palms,
kissing night in unseen places.

I am
the empty flute
the flautist left behind.
I await the breath of God
to fill the void.

Though I must leave,
I’ll come to you again—
a shower of purple petals
upon dew-covered sod.

Jacaranda Rain–Sonnet, Iambic Pentameter

I am the Sun that slips through blinds half-closed,
imprinting saffron stripes on textured walls.
I am a ball of fire that slashes clouds,
that singes trees on rugged mountain tops.

I am the spreading branch of Piñon Pine,
or Mullbr’y broad umbrella, leafy green.
I offer shade in sweltering summer time,
and home for mockingbirds’ delight in spring.

I am the dance of light upon the moon,
behind the palm tree fronds my passion plays
a tempting game—I kiss the darkest gloom
who yields to me at last, in hues of gray.

I am the flute the flautist left behind,
awaiting God’s own breath to fill the void.
I’m music whipped to life by restless wind
as nature’s sound, an echoing of joy.

May I return in showers of purple blooms—
a Jacaranda rain on grassy dew?

Thanks to Gay at dVerse Form for All for a comprehensive explanation of meter. She suggests taking a free verse poem you’ve already written and putting it into one of a number of meters that she describes.

This poem is the title poem of my soon-to-be published collection of poetry on Kindle. I also hope to have it available through Create Space. I would love your feedback–do you prefer the Sonnet or the Free Verse? 

By the way, my article, “Beating the Odds–Support for Persons with Early Stage Dementia,” is available for free on Kindle through August 9th–that’s tomorrow, or perhaps today for many of you.

Jacaranda Rain

Jacaranda Rain

Sonnet, with Liberties Taken

I am the Sun that slips through blinds half-closed,
imprinting saffron stripes on textured walls.
I am a ball of fire that slashes clouds,
that singes trees on rugged mountain tops.

I am the spreading branch of Piñon Pine,
or Mullbr’y broad umbrella leaf of green.
I offer shade in sweltering summer time,
and home for mockingbirds, the songs they bring.

I am the dance of light upon the moon,
behind the palm tree fronds my passion plays
a tempting game—I kiss the darkest gloom
who yields to me at last, in hues of gray.

May I return in showers of purple blooms—
a Jacaranda rain on grassy dew?

Jacaranda trees in Montagu Ave, Salisbury, Rhodesia (now Harare, Zimbabwe) in 1975 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Jacaranda Rain

Free Verse

I am
the sun that slips
through blinds, half-closed.
Painting saffron strips
on adobe walls.

I am
a bolt of fire
lighting up the skies,
singeing trees on mountain tops,
splitting limbs.

I am
the sheltered branches of Mulberry tree.
Broad leaf umbrella
shading you at noontime.

I am
the dance of light upon the moon,
hiding my passion behind
swaying palms,
kissing night in unseen places.

I am
the empty flute
the flautist left behind.
I await the breath of God
to fill the void.

Though I must leave,
I’ll come to you again—
a shower of purple petals
upon dew-covered sod.

Progress Note: Yesterday during my walk I watched the petals of Jacaranda trees fall in the breeze like purple rain. The thought crossed my mind: If it’s true, as Buddhism suggests, that we shall return in nature, I’d like to be a part of this.

The first write of this was in free form, during the night. When I awakened, I saw a copy I’d made of instructions (from Luke Prater) on the stress sonnet form. I don’t have the courage yet to try that complex undertaking so I thought I’d better master the pure sonnet first and work up to it. Then when I read Gay Cannon’s challenge on dVerse Meeting the Bar, I knew I couldn’t eke out another near-sonnet today, so I thought I’d go ahead an share this at the pub. I encourage everyone to meet up there. Perhaps by the time OLN rolls around, I’ll have a Frame Sonnet poem to submit. Have fun everyone.

Sweet Painted Lady–A Sonnet

Image by mrlerone via Flickr

I am resubmitting this for dVerse Poetics http://dversepoets.com where fellow poet, Mark Kerstetter, share his knowledge and talent, inviting us to write from a point of view “other” than our own. I hope many of you will visit and take the challenge. Thank you, Mark.

Sweet Painted Lady
A Sonnet

Ain’t nobody’s damn right to judge my heart,
To guess the whys of things I gotta do,
That ‘cause I walk the streets I’m just a tart.
They can’t see from my sacred point of view.

Got calluses from these damn three-inch heels.
I stink from filthy men I’m s’pposed to please
Who, with rough touches, my self-worth will steal
Then toss me crumpled bills to find release.

The haughty turn away when they pass by.
They snicker, whisper loud, “She’s sold her soul.”
But in my deep-part, truth reminds me why:
My body is not me, my spirit’s whole.

I ain’t whoring for drugs or my own joy.
His daddy split. I’m caring for my boy.

 

Sonnets as a Poetic Form–“Point of View”

A bit about the sonnet as a poetic form courtesy of Wikipedia:

The sonnet is one of several forms of lyric poetry originating in Europe. The term “sonnet” derives from the Occitan word sonet and the Italian word sonetto, both meaning “little song” or “little sound”. By the thirteenth century, it had come to signify a poem of fourteen lines that follows a strict rhyme scheme and specific structure. The conventions associated with the sonnet have evolved over its history. The writers of sonnets are sometimes referred to as “sonneteers,” although the term can be used derisively. One of the best-known sonnet writers is William Shakespeare, who wrote 154 of them (not including those that appear in his plays). A Shakespearean, or English, sonnet consists of 14 lines, each line containing ten syllables and written in iambic pentameter, in which a pattern of an unemphasized syllable followed by an emphasized syllable is repeated five times. The rhyme scheme in a Shakespearean sonnet is a-b-a-b, c-d-c-d, e-f-e-f, g-g; the last two lines are a rhyming couplet. (Credit: Wikipedia)

Most often we think of sonnets as love songs. When my poetry critique group suggested writing a sonnet, I felt a bit squeamish about it until I stopped to consider the broad spectrum of “love.” Not sure how my poem would play in the traditional sense of a sonnet. If you enjoy the discipline of working with poetic forms, I encourage you to read more about the various types of sonnets and just do it…it’s fun and it’s challenging.

“Point of View” A Sonnet

Ain’t nobody with a right to judge my heart,
To guess why I do the things I gotta do,
To say ‘cause I walk the streets I’m just a tart.
No way they can see from my sacred point of view.
Got calluses on my feet from three-inch heels.
I stink from filthy men I’m s’pposed to please
Who with rough touches my self-worth will steal
Then toss me a crumpled bill to find release.
The haughty turn away when they pass me by.
They snicker, whisper loudly, “She’s sold her soul.”
But in my deep-part, truth reminds me why:
My body is not me, my spirit’s whole.
It’s not that I whore for drugs or my own joy.
His daddy just split. Gotta care for my little boy.