Some poems of my own -- quelques poemes a moi
villanelle
A GREAT SONNET RESURRECTS ONE 'DEAD, DEATHLESS HOUR' *
Defined by a sonnet, one 'dead, deathless hour'
Is preserved for the ages in lyrics of glory --
The placement of each word and line has great power.
The elegant forming of sonnets in flower
Makes poets miners...the word lodes they quarry
Embellish a sonnet's one 'dead, deathless hour.'
In the hands of amateurs, sonnets go sour,
And the carnage leaves failures battered and gory:
The placement of each word and line has great power.
Before time's headlong surge, the poet may cower,
Since the sonnet's traditional form is so hoary --
The sonnet manque marks no 'dead, deathless hour.'
Though Shakespeare, Petrarch and Spenser still tower
Over lesser intellects -- in wide-ranging foray --
Still, placement of each word and line has great power.
Like the perfect seduction grant's epiphany's dower,
Octave, volta, sextet tell a story --
A great sonnet calls back one 'dead, deathless hour':
The placement of each word and line has great power.
* "A sonnet is a moment's monument --
memorial from the soul's eternity
to one dead, deathless hour."
Dante Gabriel Rosetti (1828 - 1882)
THE SECRET IS TO LIVE, NOT JUST EXIST
Be ready for life's every turn and twist --
Determine every possible aspect...
The secret is to live, not just exist.
Observe the things you can and can't resist.
Act only if you know that act's effect.
Be ready for life's every turn and twist.
Plan your time and even make a list;
Evaluate all choices you detect...
The secret is to live, not just exist.
You will decide of what your needs consist,
And mostly live the life that you select.
Be ready for life's every turn and twist.
Success will surely come, if you persist.
Set your goals, and all dead ends reject;
The secret is to live, not just exist.
So...when it comes, give luck a strong assist.
Be honest, friendly, candid, and direct.
Be ready for life's every turn and twist;
The secret is to live, not just exist.
Published: Hob Nob, Winter 95-96, issue 64b
A CALL TO ARMS
The die was cast with Earth’s first dawn –
Defend the right in spite of circumstance:
Long ages since, the battlelines were drawn.
In struggle, good and evil meet head-on –
With luck and skill, your ideals will advance.
Long ages since, the battlelines were drawn.
Each battle fought, engaged with brain ... or brawn ...
Strength of character and honor will enhance.
Long ages since, the battlelines were drawn.
Each one of us, a player, King ... or pawn –
Be alert, don’t sleepwalk in a trance.
The die was cast with Earth’s first dawn.
The board the world ... and most a hanger-on –
While some, Evil’s minions will entrance.
Long ages since, the battlelines were drawn.
Weigh each choice with care, both pro and con.
The world is fraught with misstep and mischance.
The die was cast with Earth’s first dawn –
Long ages since, the battlelines were drawn.
A PSYCHIC PAINTBRUSH
Our psyches glow with colors rare,
Where friends and loved ones made their mark –
And strokes from a psychic paintbrush flare.
The muses seem to gather there
To silhouette the pressing dark –
While our psyches glow with colors rare.
Bright pavilions rip and tear
As gods prepare to disembark –
And strokes from a psychic paintbrush flare.
Deep they delve through pain and care –
Against a background cold and stark:
Our psyches glow with colors rare.
Like trees in autumn soon are bare
Down to the naked, primal bark –
While strokes from a psychic paintbrush flare.
Thus, loved ones greet each pointed stare
In a kaleidoscopic, blazed landmark –
Our psyches glow with colors rare,
While strokes from a psychic paintbrush flare.
The PARIS/ ATLANTIC, Spring, 1998
