One More Sonnet

Tag: sonnet

  • Trust We Must

    Trust We Must

    We hold true to our convictions,
    As determined through belief,
    We deny our contradictions,
    As would worry us to grief.
    We deliver our devotions,
    With dedicated verve,
    We limit our emotions,
    With bundles in reserve.
    We prize with admiration,
    Every skerrick of her soul,
    We lack the dedication,
    To surrender our control.
    . Through trust our faith is born,
    . Make not ‘must’ that it be sworn.

    © Tim Grace, (WS-Sonnet 66: line 4) 13 April 2011

    To the reader: How we arrive at our conclusions and determine our responses is a matter of overlapping considerations. As one decision adds to the next the combined wisdom will lighten or darken in transparency. A great decision may have required an enormous number of overlaps but in combination will seem crystal clear. On the contrary, a clumsy decision, muddied with contradiction, will always be opaque.

    To the poet: The symmetry of this sonnet appeals to my structural sensibilities; it unpacks with layered clarity. Throughout the poem there are patterns woven into its wordy web. In a vertical sense the lines alternate to emphasise that ‘we’ are at the centre of trusting relationships. And horizontally, the lines switch between short and long syllabic words. To finish, the last couplet share an internal rhyme; trust we must.

     

    trust we must trust we must

     

  • Luscious Lust

    Luscious Lust

    Once it grew with luscious lust
    As fresh as it was new
    But desiccated (turned to dust)
    Its verdant days are through.
    Once it stood in splendid state
    To shine as new-born sun
    And so it did but radiate
    Til’ all its strength was done.
    Nothing of its shape is left
    Was buried grain by grain
    As if unsculptured (now bereft)
    Its past is but a stain.
    . Give not what would cause despair,
    . Offer not the desert to a beggar’s prayer.

    © Tim Grace, (WS-Sonnet 66: line 2) 11 April 2011

    To the reader: Is hope a gift? … you’d hope so; false hope is a curse. Mostly, we manage hope, we contain its enthusiasm; restrain its expectation. Having hope is an optimistic trait, a forward-looking approach to life’s unravelling. Giving hope is an altogether different matter. Those who trade on the hopes and wishes of the bereft need be careful of motives; the more needy are prone to false enticements.

    To the poet: Punctuation of a poem is important. Shakespeare’s punctuation is creative, but most of all, consistently helpful. His full use of grammatical mechanics is as it should be: obvious yet subtle; deliberate and considered. Beyond a comma, Shakespeare (the masterful wordsmith) wields the heavier tools of trade with confident ease. Deliberately inserted, between semantics and syntax, grammar integrates its purpose and so a string of words is spoken; voiced with expression.

    luscious lust luscious lust

     

  • Counterfeit

    Counterfeit

    In the absence of required kit,
    we fear ourselves unready.
    We lament the missing part of it,
    and hold ourselves unsteady.
    We see ourselves as incomplete,
    as such we so behave,
    We cast ourselves as counterfeit,
    as fraud and worthless knave.
    We dwell upon our weaknesses,
    our deficits and flaws.
    We worry over pittances,
    and under write our scores,
    . When need is an all consuming quality
    . the gift is lost; nothing’s trimmed with jollity.

    Copyright 2016 (text & image) Tim Grace, (WS-Sonnet 66: line 3) (written: 11 April 2011)

    To the reader: The undressed nakedness of a manikin has nothing to sell. Life without gloss has a dull patina… cake without icing, shoes without polish. Raw ingredients hardly rally enthusiasm for the product. The bear-staples are just too mundane to sustain our interest. We need the the decoration, the ornamentation, to up-dress our excitement and warrant our celebration.

    To the poet: Rhythm, rhyme and emphasis are the working ingredients in this sonnet. Seven references to ‘we’ (and four to ‘ourselves’) underscore the collective message. Establishing the repeats early in the sonnet creates a dependency; we readers are pushed towards the next expected point of emphasis… and we find it waiting.

     

    countefeit countefeit

     

  • So Welcome

    So Welcome

    From this seat, a small window
    frames the street; a door swings
    on its hinges. Who’s to know
    what its welcome brings?
    Here comes a backpack with a laptop
    looking for a what-not.
    Is it be-bop, is it hip-hop?
    … it’s a cool cat at a hot spot.
    Here comes a white shirt with dark glasses
    collared by a black tie.
    It’s the business look that passes,
    as a brief case of who am I?
    … Doors are trained in etiquette,
    … so welcome those they’ve not yet met.

    © Tim Grace, 8 April 2011

    To the reader: With the opening of a door comes the expectation of new arrival. Door swings, or slides, and for a moment frames a fresh character. The first impression is squared-off, measured-up; allotted to its fit. A nameless no-one becomes someone given presence. That someone’s arrival bears the mark of carriage; deportment. The doorway delivers another entrance.

    To the poet: In my poetry, the thematic presence of ‘this seat’ is recurring. It’s not always the same ‘this seat’ but as a place-holder it’s a common anchor point. Observing the world requires an authentic perspective; ‘this seat’ is its vantage point. Not all poems need a sense of location but occasionally it helps to give the reader a reference point; so the poet-observer is placed within the narrative – passively evident.

     

    so welcome so welcome

     

  • On Pause

    On Pause

    This is the pause that he employs,
    When his stance is resolute,
    This is his silent use of noise,
    That speaks volumes when on mute.
    This is not an empty moment,
    Just waiting to be filled,
    It’s intelligent, it’s eloquent,
    It’s be spoken by the skilled,
    This is thought upon a precipice,
    It’s surgical; a cut that leaves no scar,
    Consider this his emphasis,
    His suspended coup de grace.
    . To a break in flow, we’ll pay attention,
    . It helps to grow our comprehension.

    © Tim Grace, 2 April 2011

    To the reader: The rhythm of speech is particular to each of us. We modulate our voice to draw attention to words that enhance the meaning of our message. In “I have a dream…” the vocal technique of Martin Luther-King is slow and deliberate; audible and easily absorbed. But there comes a time … a time in his speech when more … so much more is needed. The king-hit is sermon. Trained as a Baptist minister Luther-King turns lectern into pulpit with masterful ease and maximum impact.

    To the poet: Rhythm and repetition given an occasional pause for emphasis; that’s it, the message has its pigeon. Short in form, the sonnet is ripe for delivering a sharp punch. Impact is important. The pause, as a literary device, pulls the punch, gears up momentum and off-puts the listener. Make the rhythm predictable but defy expectation with a pause … a misplaced pause, an awkward pause, a pregnant pause … a pause nonetheless.

     

    on pause on pause

     

  • On Queues

    On Queues

    Select a line and there remain,
    Don’t jump to gain position,
    Be careful not to show disdain,
    Or complain of its condition.
    For those in front, and those behind,
    Allow them space to move.
    As much as you might feel inclined,
    There’s little here to prove.
    Be alert but do not pry,
    You’re part of this progression,
    To any grumble don’t reply,
    A smile’s the best expression.
    . When people mass, and muddles brew,
    . It must be time, to form a queue.

    © Tim Grace, 24 March 2011

    To the reader: Queues. Rule bound but culturally specific. Some loose and self-organising others tightly scripted. By design the best of queues follow the dictum of form follows function. The unspoken measure of a good queue is its marriage of context and purpose. To happily surrender to a queue there must be benefits. The value of time spent in a queue is a relative notion… may have something to do with mass and energy?

    To the poet: As an advisory, this poem describes a problem and offers a solution. The familiar context of a queue doesn’t need too much in the way of description to deliver a believable subject. And so, with light-hearted conviction the poet has convinced himself, at least, of the virtues of queues. In a poetic sense there’s merit in a line that can flex and has space to shuffle.

     

    on queues on queues