One More Sonnet

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  • Count not the Clown

    Count not the Clown

    It’s the full deck that makes us sure
    we’re not the house of cards that trembled.
    With thirteen runs in sets of four
    as luck would have assembled.
    It’s the full pack (red and black)
    that finds trump in awkward shuffle.
    It’s the bold attack, from humble stack,
    that best will cause kerfuffle.
    It’s the full set that serves us best;
    That most completely deals our hand:
    To cope with what might manifest,
    To make good from what is bland.
    .   Count not the clown, not that foolish stoker;
    .   As by name, he’s nothing more than joker.

    © Tim Grace, 22 May, 2011

     

    To the reader: The history of playing cards dates back to the Tang Dynasty (618-907), when members of the Chinese royal house entertained themselves with courtly pass-times. My notion of a full deck is inherited from a European tradition of 52 cards arranged in four suits of 13 cards. The mathematical versatility of 52 cards is convenient and probably accounts for its widespread use. A full-deck has symmetry and sequence; pattern and probability; traits that appeal to someone of corresponding age!

    To the poet: Punctuation of a poem is part of the puzzle. Keeping it simple is one approach. Alternatively, a liberal smattering of syntactic signage is very helpful in ensuring adherence to the poet’s preferred phrasing. For some poems punctuation is a secondary matter that suggests its own logical placement. In this sonnet, punctuation is placed to be an obvious obstruction; and an intended instruction.

     

    count not the clown count not the clown
  • No Good Can Come

    No Good Can Come

    No good can come of this … surely.
    In the end truth will out,
    to reveal just how poorly
    our captains, our leaders, go about…
    Surely, we are not prisoners to this
    misdirected manipulation of good.
    It can not be that we are captives,
    confined to the limits of must and should.
    Surely, it is through free will (not ill),
    that goodness finds itself expressed.
    Surely then, only then, and not until,
    as free … we will see good’s best.
    . When shackled, good can get no better;
    . set it free from chains and fetter.

    © Tim Grace, (WS-Sonnet 66: line 12) 14 May 2011

     

    To the reader: Goodness is a quality, a state of being attributed to anything that makes a worthwhile contribution. For those wielding power the branding of ‘good’ is a priceless claim. Unfortunately, goodness is open to manipulation by those with nefarious intent. Often the claim of betterment, for a good cause, has a self-serving purpose only revealed when deception is post-hoc revealed; after the fact is known… what good is that?

    To the poet: Surely… is the anchor-point of this sonnet which responds to Shakespeare’s frustration with the corruption of good. Incredulous… he shakes his head ‘how could this be so?’ Placing ‘surely’ at the end of the first line and then repeating it at the beginning of each quatrain gives it emphasis; surely enough to ease frustration… some good may come of that!

     

     

     

    no good can come no good can come
  • Gift of gifts

    Gift of gifts

    There is no child who from its mother
    did not receive the gift of life.
    This gift of gifts is like no other:
    given as incomplete. It’s rife
    with possibility, ripe with potential,
    it’s a gift that will grow and change,
    it shares her likeness; referential.
    With generous scope to range
    this gift gives all but eternity,
    this gift gives all it has to give,
    this is the gift of maternity,
    this is the gift of life we live.
    . Of all the gifts, it’s the one that ranks,
    . as worthy-most of life-long thanks.

    © Tim Grace, 11 May 2011

    To the reader: Put aside posterity, and a mother’s gift of life is an expression of generosity. Her gift offers nothing more than potential; it comes with no guarantee. More so, her gift is wrapped with love and good wishes; high hopes for health and happiness. As a gift it comes with no service contract; instead, it’s a social contract, an expectation of life-long commitment and care.

    To the poet: Although not a classic iambic pentameter, in the Shakespearian sense, this poem’s rhythm burdens every other syllable with a weighted grip. In particular, the last quatrain is repetitive and rhythmical with its emphasis baring on the ‘gift’. And so, through technique an emphatic message is given voice.

    gift of gifts gift of gifts

     

  • Simple Creed

    Simple Creed

    Somewhere in the forest dense,
    With old-growth thickly sewn,
    There’s a single seed of commonsense,
    Long since over grown.
    It’s buried ‘mongst a bed of leaves,
    As laid through years of scatter,
    Beneath this heavy mass it heaves,
    Giving reason to its matter.
    It’s not the seed of discontent,
    That festers complication,
    It’s more the source of new intent,
    And the essence of creation.
    – What knowledge from a seed does breed?
    – Keep it simple – is its simple creed.

    © Tim Grace, 6 May 2011

    To the reader: Simple solutions are too often over-looked; dismissed as trite. The ‘tried and true’ remedy outlives its novelty; so shiny becomes dull and none-too attractive. Human nature thrives on surprise and quickly habituates to ‘sameness’; we look to see things differently. Unfortunately, simple routines, as efficient as they are, become mundane and tiresome. And so, in an attempt to add a little sparkle to our tasks we inadvertently make things difficult … too clever by half.

    To the poet: Revisiting a sonnet, years after it was first finished, is sometimes an exercise in restraint. There’s always the temptation to fiddle; nudge a couple of words; alter the length of a line; or swap one word for another. As a poem’s substance is mostly well-set, it’s then readability that gets the work-over. The rule of restraint relates to originality; don’t distance the sonnet too far from its time-bound source.

     

    simple creed
    simple creed

     

  • Simple Truth

    Simple Truth

    Sometimes a simple truth is sacrificed;
    abandoned; let go, as surplus to need.
    For utility’s sake it’s cut and spliced;
    modified; stripped of its seminal seed.
    Sometimes too, a simple truth is buried;
    covered by layers of expedience,
    overgrown, entombed in a myriad
    of rows; for folioed convenience.
    And sometimes simple truth is set aside.
    It’s rendered small enough to ridicule;
    belittled; nothingness personified;
    significance reduced to minuscule.
    . When by design – we’re too clever by half,
    . who is it … who is it, has the last laugh?

    © Tim Grace, (WS-Sonnet 66: line 11) 4 May 2011

    To the reader: Simple solutions are too often over-looked; dismissed as trite. The ‘tried and true’ remedy outlives its novelty; so, shiny becomes dull and none-too attractive. Human nature thrives on surprise and quickly habituates to ‘sameness’; we look to see things differently. Unfortunately, simple routines, as efficient as they are, become mundane and tiresome. And so, in an attempt to add a little sparkle to our tasks we inadvertently make things difficult … too clever by half.

    To the poet: Revisiting a sonnet, years after it was first finished, is sometimes an exercise in restraint. There’s always the temptation to fiddle; nudge a couple of words; alter the length of a line; or swap one word for another. As a poem’s substance is mostly well-set, it’s then readability that gets the work-over. The rule of restraint relates to originality; don’t distance the sonnet too far from its time-bound source.

     

    simple truth simple truth

     

  • Suited or Not

    Suited or Not

    They can draft a man to suit a plan,
    give him wage and compensation.
    They can craft a man ’til spic’n’span,
    prepare him for occasion.
    Surely then, it’s fair that we assume
    he’s qualified; and suitably recruited.
    But soon, too soon, his costume
    slips. A facade’s been executed!
    Any fool can dress the part,
    and for some time play his bluff.
    But neither is this good nor smart,
    for through polish shows his scruff.
    . Beware the quack with phony bill,
    . so too folly, doctor-like, controlling skill.

    © Tim Grace, (WS-Sonnet 66: line 10) 1 May 2011

    To the reader: So it is supposed to go… as we carve out our individual career paths the route develops a logic which is matched to our particular talents. And so we become suited, recruited, to our work. Frustratingly, not all career paths follow this dictum; this pattern of logical progression. For some, opportunity defies logic and lays down a highway devoid of devotion. Rapid rise; rapid fall … careers to a crash!

    To the poet: In lengthening the lines of a poem we create space to internally reinforce points of expressions. An incidental phrase (not always necessary) can soften the direct impact of hurried line. The inserted clause, the bracketed thought, offers an adjustment: a tweak; a checkpoint; a clarification of sorts. The longer line is reassuring, less punchy; more reader friendly.

     

    suited or not suited or not