One More Sonnet

Category: Uncategorized

  • New to View

    New to View

    The morning’s dense, thick, veil of fog
    has brought the near much closer;
    and so, with less to see, this catalogue
    reads thin, through small exposure.
    Gone is the usual backdrop, gone
    are the buildings, the blue sky and clouds;
    and so, in close confines, I look upon
    What through common place, daily habit shrouds.
    New to view is an angled wall,
    a postered print with crooked tilt,
    indoor plants let go to sprawl,
    and the remnant spots of coffee spilt.
    . When distance fails to render topic,
    . cite what sees the eyes myopic.

    © Tim Grace, 7 July 2011

    To the reader: I live in a city renowned for its clear blue skies; an envious average across all four seasons. Occasionally, the wide-blue-yonder closes in and our vista shrinks behind a grey shroud of fog. Those who talk of depression describe the sensation in similar terms. Grey replaces the colourful features of pleasant surroundings. Distance is detached from time and place; here and now demand attention; proportion is distorted.

    To the poet: I remember driving carefully through the fog; mentally mapping my way through a course of visual memories. No doubt, I assumed my usual position at the back of a cafe. And from there, I realised my familiar palette of colours was absent; distant approximations gone. Everything, routinely overlooked (as too close to see) had been brought to the fore. I met the short-sighted poet.

     

    new to view new to view

     

  • Pleasantries

    Pleasantries

    The light touch of a poet’s pen,
    rests easy on the page;
    pleasant words that come again,
    that do not wilt with age.
    Familiar words, in daily use,
    that need no explanation;
    nothing cryptic, nor obtuse:
    the art of observation.
    Write the word as simply said,
    keep true to its expression;
    write the word so easily read,
    note its first impression.
    . Write simply what the eye saw,
    . all else but that ignore.

    © Tim Grace, 4 July 2011

    To the reader: The casual acquaintance of a pleasant friend leaves a light impression on the surface of a day. The interaction has no agenda and the motive is nothing more than patinated patter: a catch-up, a touch-base; a nice to see you moment. There’s a social art, an etiquette, to keeping a conversation chatty – your own connection with local events and activities is a good guide; a sense of life as it is. Currency is a useful link to liveliness; make good use of days just gone and those about to come.

    To the poet: There’ll be times when a scene has no cryptic depth of character; a surface without dimension. Not to say it isn’t an interesting reflection of reality. Still-life, in a visual sense, holds the moment as it is; preserves the present for its own sake. If there’s a technique to writing ‘still-life’ it’s avoid clutter and unnecessary elaboration. The truthful line applies as much to poetry as it does to visual design.

    pleasantries pleasantries
  • Possessed of Darkness

    Possessed of Darkness

    In darkness, lust has sight of just one eye;
    so, little more than nothing does he see.
    Possessed of darkness lust and love both vie
    for right to don the cloak of dignity.
    Lust (that nightingale) clad in midnight’s gown,
    silhouettes as naked, cavorts as stark;
    fashioned to force from love a prudish frown.
    Lust casts his sullied shadow at love’s lark;
    in response, love is dressed in dim-lit garb.
    Love seeks the soft refuge of a candle.
    Love in night’s attire is sensual; suave.
    Love is demure, shows no taste for scandal.
    . As night takes possession of darkened rooms,
    . love’s noble battle over lust resumes.

    © Tim Grace, 26 June 2011

    To the reader: Light and dark emotions are responsive to context; invited or avoided. Light emotions take pleasure from the fresh disclosure of a pure moment. On the other hand, dark emotions shun exposure to an open scene; they much prefer the secrecy of shadows. Somewhere in the soft subdued lighting of a comfortable space love and lust agree to cohabit; and in that ambiance, find sweet embrace.

    To the poet: As you read Shakespeare’s sonnets you’ll often come across two sonnets that sit side-by-side as pairs. Sometimes, they’ll tell two parts of the same story; other-times, they’ll repeat the same story from a different angle. The pairing is as much convenient as it is deliberate. As ‘Poem A’ develops ‘Poem B’ evolves as a counter-balance. The discarded lines become adversaries; too demanding to ignore.

     

    possessed of darkness possessed of darkness

     

  • Skewed Perspective

    Skewed Perspective

    This painter’s point of reference is a frame.
    That being so, the view portrays a scene:
    a pictured scene, that forms a likeness; same
    or similar images sit between
    vertical and horizontal axes.
    Colour-saturated canvas with scrapes
    of land and sea, clouds and sky in patches;
    an ornamental arrangement of shapes
    drawn together; intermingled, condensed,
    poised in proportion. Constrained it would seem,
    fixedly, to the one common bound: fenced,
    measured and matched to a spatial theme.
    . When frames of reference are viewed selective,
    . they’re often squared to a skewed perspective.

    © Tim Grace, 6 July 2011

     

    To the reader: Frames of reference hold the contents of a picture in place and establish the dynamics of a visual arrangement; as perceived. Whether a visual artist can claim to have captured what is beyond their canvas or lens is an interesting point. Is deliberate omission part of the viewing experience? To paint or photograph a scene without its protagonist, without its feature, gives the viewer the ‘power of suggestion’ to answer what’s missing. Frames are not borders.

    To the poet: Constraints are at the centre of this poetic piece. Its theme argues a contrivance; that being: any captured picture is a selectively squared-off visual arrangement. A poem, on the other hand, is boundless in its suggestive use of imagery. In making reference to a poetic landscape I have relied upon the reader’s visual interpretation of “scrapes of land and sea” … to be conjured at will.

     

    skewed perspective skewed perspective
  • Nothing of Extent

    Nothing of Extent

    For over an hour I have sat,
    Writing nothing on this page,
    I’ve watched people doing this and that,
    As they’ve walked across my stage.
    In some respects a waste of time.
    An indulgence poorly spent.
    I haven’t paired a single rhyme,
    I’ve done nothing of extent.
    I’ve pondered nothing too absurd,
    Nor tackled the contorted.
    I’ve cast myself in roles preferred,
    As here I’ve seen assorted.
    . The absent-minded hour has its worth,
    . It helps explain our time on Earth.

    © Tim Grace, 4 June 2011

     

    To the reader: Just before harvest time I presume a farmer contemplates; spends time thinking about the task ahead. Is my next poem a crop unreaped? According to Wittgenstein my desire to speak is to test a paradox. I propose relationships to explain my representation of the world; as a thought. No essence of language, no one truth in language, meaning is use, linguistic differences. Private language, thought precedes language. the language of thought … if you know what I mean!?

    To the poet: Words – they don’t come easy. The translation of thought into ink on a page is a physical struggle that I enjoy. The scripting of ink, not pencil or key board, adds a permanency to the drafting process. From the first touch of ink, my poems are under construction; every discarded phrase leaves a record of my mental meanderings. Word-smithing wrought with wonder!

     

    nothing of extent nothing of extent
  • Hyde Park (Sydney)

    Hyde Park (Sydney)

    Welcome to Hyde Park, home of the wombat,
    the fleet footed xylophone,
    the inverted umbrella and the feral cat.
    Where the ingenious mind casts in stone
    its love of country and the park bench.
    Where jet-lag creates chaos on the streets,
    and “Look Right” is meaningless in French.
    Where traffic lights play endless repeats
    of Jeckyl and Hyde – the amusement park
    open all hours, street theatre,
    spontaneously triggered by a spark;
    where strange ways just get weirder!
    . We all need somewhere to park ideas,
    . to ponder thoughts and tackle fears.

    © Tim Grace, 2 June 2011

     

    To the reader: Sydney’s Hyde Park is surrounded by buildings and squared by traffic; within these confines it provides the city with quintessential greenery. The incidental visitor has no attachment to its physical features and so explores the park with gormless wit. Broad sweeps of lawn intersect at a war memorial swallowed by a pool of remembrance. An assortment of locals define the park’s character as miscellaneous.

    To the poet: Without ridiculing Hyde Park, its history is an oddity, its placement a curiosity; and so, a nonsense poem pays it fitting tribute. The playful and suggestive references are obscure; hopefully not too self-indulgent. How far a poet can stretch a reader’s interest in nonsense is dependent on curiosity. The curiosity factor gives to nothing its substance… and there you have the value of a park.

     

    hyde park hyde park