One More Sonnet

Tag: Time

  • Water’s Edge

    Water’s Edge

    A sunlit jetty, jutting out to sea;
    a wall of rocks resist the lapping tide;
    the Water’s Edge cafe is serving tea;
    two tethered yachts are dancing side-by-side.
    Waves absorb the jetty, drink to the bar;
    it’s an all-day breakfast, a seafood quiche;
    jelly-fish, tangled nets and caviar;
    loose jib on the Cactus Wren breaks its leash;
    a docile doberman lounges at large,
    waitress brings him water in a blue dish;
    father and son wave to a passing barge;
    a day without limits… just as you’d wish.
    . Today’s consumption will be time well spent,
    . awash with moments, as were sort of meant.

    © Tim Grace, 15 September 2012

    To the reader: To the sound of gently lapping water I wander the coastal promenade; find an outdoor table; it’s perched at the end of a short jetty. With the morning sun’s warmth on my back I open my eyes to the scenery at large. At water’s edge, a cafe has delivered the first of many all-day breakfasts. Behind me two yachts acknowledge as passing wave. Eyes shift, a waitress is delivering a blue bowl of water to a black dog. Scene closes with a father and his young son greeting the black dog with a ‘good morning’ pat-and-chat.

    To the poet: Light extends a poet’s vision into the realms of colour and movement. The crisp light of dawn is by nature poetic. With fresh aspect it exposes familiar forms to new interpretation. Dawn’s crisp exposure, fleeting as it is, delivers a lasting impression. Beyond an hour or so of rising its particular beauty is diffused to a general sense of mundane utility. The day is best seized by the touch of dawn.

     

     

    Water's Edge
    Water’s Edge
  • Three Complications

    Three Complications

    The cave, the campfire, and the carnival.
    Three complications, mine to be resolved.
    In one, the cave, I am most comfortable.
    Most myself, most at home, most involved.
    Drag me from my cave, my favoured dwelling,
    wrench me out of this reclusive hollow;
    pull me screaming and ignore my yelling;
    tow me to the campfire, make me follow;
    wright me in the carnival’s raucous script;
    place me with a crowd, put me on parade;
    chain me to the mob – least of all equipped
    to cope with this, and most of all afraid.
    . I’m a caveman, that’s my disposition.
    . Elsewhere, I’m awkward in rendition.

    © Tim Grace, 26 August 2012

    To the reader: In a social sense we all have a comfort zone; an interactive range of capability. In the cave dwells the ‘home alone’ introvert. Oblivious to external distractions, he happily crafts an inward-facing palace of private pleasures. His windows on the world are guarded lookouts; portals that provide protection as much as they do vistas over new horizons. His home is an introspective exhibition of self-sufficiency… he looks forward to your company, but rarely seeks it.

    To the poet: I write from the vantage point of a cave. A metaphorical-mobile-cave that has no fixed address. The metaphorical-mobile-cave is appointed with modern amenities and adapts well to its surrounding conditions. In this sense, it’s a versatile-metaphorical-mobile-cave with its own sense of respectful hospitality. The cafe is my cave… a poet’s paradise.

     

    Three Complications
    Three Complications

     

  • Queen of Science

    Queen of Science

    She speaks of dark matter, she seeks its clue.
    She maps the empty, voluminous void
    that fills the heavens with galactic glue;
    such keeps the Queen of Science full employed.
    Visible space (her realm) she understands.
    The pull of planets and the death of stars;
    the gaseous clusters that time expands;
    with curiosity she’s there on Mars.
    But what of the vast unknown, the unseen,
    the invisible, lightless, hidden mass?
    What sense does she make of the in between?
    As yet, it would seem, not that much, alas!
    . Chaos reigns above the Queen’s universe,
    . order favours the black night … quite perverse!

    © Tim Grace, 10 August 2012

    To the reader: The Queen of Science is mathematics. Her realm, comprised of all things great and small, is understood through the logic of numbers. As with the best of monarchs, she is most interested in relationships; how things bond and bridge. The Queen’s interests follow the path of human curiosity: deep seas and shallow shores; heaven and earth; the living and the dead. She’s a woman of substance and structure; as real as she is abstract; as infinite as she is nothing.

    To the poet: I remember flying, from here to there, with a popular science magazine as company. Page after page of ‘new science’ flipped before my eyes; with each flip came an array of impressive numbers; usually well-beyond my comprehension. Obviously impressed, I used my simple understanding to pay homage to the Queen of Science. The sonnet has a simple structure with the last stanza acting as counterpoint … but … there is much to learn.

     

    Queen of Science Queen of Science
    Picture Source:
    http://youtu.be/A9S9gwhS6Yk

     

  • Under the Sonnet

    Under the Sonnet

    With its ten gangly legs, and five long feet,
    it hobbles the cobbles – a diddle-dee-dum:
    pedals the rhythm of a Roman street;
    travels to Britain – a fiddling strum;
    espouses rules but allows them broken;
    copes with rejection and hopes of the heart;
    in moments of need it’s quite outspoken;
    a smitten attachment to Cupid’s dart.
    Many a muse has become its focus:
    blushed at the poet’s devotional praise:
    In love sings the rose; in Spring sings the crocus.
    In time comes a couplet, as sentence or phrase.
    . Lovers of the word think more upon it,
    . through chapter and verse … none beats the sonnet.

    © Tim Grace, 11 July 2012

    To the reader: A routine day needs a dose of character; an element of surprise; a sprinkling of unexpected pleasure and discovery. Zeus, in union with Mnemosyne, fathered nine amusements. With breadth and reach his daughters (the Muses) tantalised his curiosities. As sources of inspiration, their “hearts are set upon song and their spirit free from care”. Through the Muses we discover the beauty of art, the wisdom of science and the splendour of life.

    To the poet: Once in a while a poet needs to take stock. Sonnets (under bonnets) need a service; a check of mechanical and electrical systems; to synchronise pistons and calibrate sparks. In the process, it doesn’t hurt to check that lubricants are clean and viscous; mediating flow and modifying friction. Fuel lines and coolants need attention to ensure isolated function. With tolerance, the system allows for wonderful variation… the sonneteer’s journey continues.

     

    Diddle-Dee-Dum Diddle-Dee-Dum

     

  • Life Long Journey

    Life Long Journey

    They tell me the life-long journey is done.
    Apparently, there’s been a change of course.
    The argument goes “that old race is run…
    that over-trodden track has lost its force.”
    Seems to me, it’s the traveller’s gone astray.
    It’s not the map that has thrown its compass
    to the four winds; and so, must find its way.
    It’s the runner; stuck in a deep crevasse:
    he’s become the point of question, the cause
    to pause, to hesitate, to contemplate:
    ‘position and condition’ on foreign shores;
    he threw aside the guide and tested fate.
    . Old maps are not for the lost to squander,
    . they offer much for the lost to ponder.

    © Tim Grace, 3 June 2012

    To the reader: Throughout life we adapt to changing circumstances. Those who stop adapting are least likely to survive the ravages of time. Thus, the life-long journey is a continuous construction of self; one that represents our environmental relationships. The key to survival is adaptation. Our adaptive capacities (knowledge, skills and understandings) are transmitted through interaction with others. There is no end to this journey, forever mapped to a lust for learning.

    To the poet: As a counter-argument this sonnet doesn’t quite reach the status of polemic. It does however mount a good case for life-long learning as mapped to a solid premise. The poetical challenge was to intersperse some geographical terrain into the text; the geographical context. The final handwritten version (3 June 2012) of this poem struggled to find its way; a digital rescue (2 February 2015) was applied a year or two down the track.

     

    life long journey life long journey

     

  • Destination

    Destination

    Sometimes we arrive at destinations;
    the result of an effortless journey.
    Driven not by stress or consternations;
    not chased, not pulled, not fuelled by urgency.
    It’s then that we arrive as a ready force;
    in full command of the traveller’s kit.
    No map, no guide, just a natural course:
    a passage through time, a comfortable fit.
    Left to take this ‘natural course’ we become
    our destination; and as such, arrive
    fully prepared: readied, and in fulsome
    frame of mind; eager to flourish and thrive.
    . Pathways to wherever can not be mapped,
    . they can not be copied or overlapped.

    © Tim Grace, 3 June 2012

    To the reader: The course of least resistance is one of many natural orders. A stream will meander around obstacles; seeking direction and guidance from the surrounding terrain. In this way a stream becomes its destination. In contrast, a fire will ravage its environment as it seeks to fuel an insatiable appetite for energy. The random path of a fire reflects a craving for instant gratification; there is no recognition of place in its destructive path. In this way a fire destroys its destination.

    To the poet: The natural flow of consciousness identifies a good poem. The ease by which a poem flows around obstacles of rhyme and reason is a marker of success. There will always be creative tension in a poem; for the course can not be so easy as to stop the stream of thought. The rhythm of ebb and flow, as opposed to slash and burn, seeks resolution not resignation; agreement not argument; destination not destruction.

     

    Destination Destination
    Pictue Sources:

    http://youtu.be/j5EviZch6XA