One More Sonnet

Tag: sonnet

  • 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

     

  • 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

     

  • Authority

    Authority

    Authority, as per regulation,
    will justify suppression,
    will authorise translation
    and standardise expression.
    It will stamp approvals, make decrees,
    issue fines and warnings.
    But when it comes to birds and bees,
    and the beauty of good mornings,
    what use is there in forms to sign;
    what good is that affording?
    It doesn’t help the sun to shine,
    nor the crowd in its applauding.
    . Art made tongue-tied by authority,
    . gives voice to no majority.

    © Tim Grace, (WS-Sonnet 66: line 9) 27 April 2011

    To the reader: To wield authority is an art-form not easily crafted into institutional practice. As institutions grow in size and status they instinctively adopt self-protective procedures that distance themselves from face-to-face exposure. The protective force-field is governance; more or less the rules of engagement. To be satisfying, our interaction with authority needs to bare some resemblance to the flow of natural order… if not creative then at least flexible; adaptive to change.

    To the poet: Without structure sonnets easily wander off track. Conversely, they can’t bear too much heavy engineering. Through natural rhythms, the mechanical hardware of a sonnet is disguised as rhyme and reason. As with authority, a bureaucratic approach to poetry can over-govern its artistic bent; a tongue-tied sonnet results.

     

     

    authority authority

     

  • Missing Sonnet

    Missing Sonnet

    The case of the missing sonnet unfolds,
    Layers of intrigue yet to be revealed:
    One, the sonneteer vehemently upholds
    That crucial evidence has been concealed;
    Two, he claims the sonnet (to date his best)
    Was finished and the draft had gone to print;
    And three, as aggrieved plaintiff, he’d suggest
    The weight of evidence does more than hint
    That the crime was payback, a vendetta,
    A deliberate and well executed
    Act of retribution; Every letter,
    Every word, in every way disputed.
    . Why take possession of what causes grief?
    . What’s the obsession… it beggars belief?

    © Tim Grace, 29 September 2011

    To the reader: A lost object has the potential to be found; it’s not yet fully gone. Retrieval is usually a simple matter of retracing steps; upturning the obvious. Annoyingly, in the lost-zone, while it lasts, there dwells frustration and self-doubt. But, having acquitted yourself of simple misplacement there comes the temptation to attribute blame to others. They become the culprits.

    To the poet: This is the first sonnet, sequentially but not chronologically, to have fourteen lines loaded with ten syllables each. The first line also adheres to the pattern of iambic-pentameter with paired emphasis bouncing from heel to toe. It’s also a sonnet that, for my pleasure, reads across the lines as a single passage of thought. As structured, this sonnet works well as a self-contained package.

     

    missing sonnet missing sonnet

     

  • Durability

    Durability

    Durable strength – be it strong and able;
    with resilient build, with spinal structure;
    be it rugged, be it tough and stable;
    forms a shape that’s hard to rupture.
    Dependable strength – with guts and grit;
    there when a crisis comes to crunch;
    there when needed; there in the midst of it;
    a powerhouse; a pool of potential punch!
    Disabled strength – crippled and lame;
    buckled and bent with nothing to harness;
    a spent force, nothing but a crying shame;
    a collapse of faith, be it more or less.
    . Strength – not given break or buffer,
    . under weight will cause us all to suffer.

    © Tim Grace, (WS-Sonnet 66: line 8) 25 April 2011

    To the reader: The concept of strength has been a long-held theme of mine … an early poem read: ‘My strength is such I can not yield, and therein lies my weakness; a gentle touch can pierce my shield and shatter my completeness’. In Shakespeare’s sonnets he often refers to strength in terms of resilience, with fatigue being its major draw of energies: “Tired of these, for restful death I cry … for these would I be gone.”

    To the poet: Durable, dependable and disabled strength. When giving a sonnet its structure there’s an endless pattern of combinations from which to choose; some patterns work better than others. Too obvious and the pattern becomes trite, too subtle and the effort is lost to all but the deepest of readers. In this sonnet, the visual and aural cue of strength’s dual dimensions leads the reader to your desired definition.

     

    durability durability