Fog

When I have a plane flight, expect a poem.
Still working on my Iambic Pentameter.

Fog 3/25/2012
Early this morning heaven fell to earth,
The sun is blotted out and breath comes hard.
So we are re-wombed, ready for a birth,
Almost drowning in the air, white and dark.

So all of us must be borne above or
else heaven must rise and wait pendant for
our death.

Objectivity

For a while now, I have been fascinated with the linguistic production of the final consonants in words like "tests" and "trusts". I finally involved it in a rhyme scheme. Since the time it takes to produce the sound is so long, it really brings the line to a close. I want to try using it again where that closure is related to the meaning of the lines it ends. In this poem, I also experiment with consonantal rhyme in lines 1 and 3 of each stanza.


Objectivity 3/16/2012
I balance by a fulcrum worlds out
from earth; testing Archimedes' boasts.
From here I hear each dream and each complaint
and feel each people as she glides, spins, coasts.

I listen as I budge her up and down
And still on more improvements she insists.
She likes the light, but not the heat at noon,
and seasons, but she's dizzy as she lists,

And love but not fear and deep but not dark.
Not just clouds but rain, not just bread but crusts
Not just sleep but fatigue must bear her back
And so I shift and craft our global dusts
And then
With all my lever efforts done in full
I find I have not moved the earth at all.

If we had room enough to stand and lever long,
We would not be too weak for her, but she too strong.

Meditations

I have been holding out on posting until I finished composing something that utilizes what I have been learning in my poetry class this semester. Since this has been slow to materialize, I have in the mean time, some scattered lines on a similar theme that I arranged into a format: problem, turn, and resolution.


In this life you will have trials.
My yoke is easy, my burden is light.
Sell what you have and give to the poor.
My yoke is easy, my burden is light.
Take up your cross and follow me.
I will lead you and you shall not want
when you fall into various trials.

The better potter fills the bumpy bowl
but
The stronger potter breaks the bowl
and spins another new.

Pain is stronger than blessing
but
The Blesséd is stronger than pain

So strengthen my pain
to bless me with weakness
that strengthens the blessed.

Take me and fill me
or
Break me and spill me

My cup runs over.