This is a variation on looping. Stanza looping as compared to line looping.
There are days I still can feel
the breeze of youth gently stir my soul
days remembered of grace and lightness
when faith in truth sparked splendid dreams
those days of you
you and me
when all we touched was fresh and new
and the world was full of wonder
when we were certain we’d live forever
our strength made each day a great adventure
those carefree days
days we pledged one to the other
as we dreamed dreams of a magical life
full of promise and wonder
of golden tomorrows
that would flourish and rise
rise in spectral beauty
brightly gleaming
brilliant through sweet years
of accomplishment
of joy
but not now
now I’ve grown unyielding
rigidly braced
against the winds of time and fate
my soul rooted in life’s demands
demands and darkling demons
that find me searching
for life’s blessings
cursing its burdens
these brittle days
days bent by the yoke of worry
heavy with the weight of loss
haunted by the ghost of memory
the lonely days when I think of you
these days of emptiness
emptiness so great
that I know not
how this void can ever be filled
when those so rich in grace
have departed
departed too
such wit and wisdom
such honest kindness
so much pure love
has now been lost
lost forever
to the void
ones who understood the need for giving
in a careless world darkened by greed
tender hearts
truly unselfish
unselfish and all embracing
whose warmth was ever present
my aching heart questions how
how can this void be filled
when such brilliant light
has been extinguished
extinguished
but not forgotten
because I will not forget
I will remember you
all of you
and all those days
days of joy and love
that’s how I will
fill this void
with the seeds of friendship
you planted deep inside my heart
now filled with memories
memories that will nurture
that will make these seeds grow
make me gentler
and me — the world to make better
better for your having been
good-bye my friends
you all are in my heart
now as ever
Across the chasm of time
and great distance
memories unfold
vividly rich
like elaborate origami sculptures
fragile as the paper of an old map
opened and reopened a 1000 times
they are creased deeply
with sepia memories
heading east
cresting the great divide
beginning the decent
into the past
through these soaring ramparts
of sky-piercing mountains
I envision what lies ahead
forests
tier upon tier
of enormous sitka spruce
of scattered brewers
known as the weeping spruce
the most beautiful of the conifer
my mother loved them
whose branches in sunlight
following a summer rain
display raindrops
as a jeweler’s velvet
showcases diamonds
I hear the whispers
of wind-stirred
lawson cypress
towering ponderosa pine
and douglas fir
I inhale deeply
the tangerine-scented white fir
a heady fragrance
rivaled only
by the rough-tufted red cedar
the dogwood’s brilliant leaves
big-leaf maples
pendulous western maples
tight ranks of dark-green sadler oak
unfurl below me
still traveling my mind’s vistas
I see the golden shimmer
and I hear crisp crackle
of white-barked aspen
my father’s favorite tree
reminded him of Canada
his country of birth
these all still live and breath
in my younger-days heart
calling me forward
down into the valley
and across the planes
of a childhood long ago
this morning’s sun
came crisp and bright
enfolding my waking
in warmth
and vivid presence
as the world awoke
fresh and fascinating
I embarked early
after eggs
juice
toast and jelly
the sweet and salty taste
lingering
of a homecoming
too long overdue
my soul is full
my mind is clear
my heart — overflowing
but my sprit is tentative
when dusk settles this evening
and early shadows
fall soft across my face
I will round Miller’s Corner
as it comes into view
worn
withered
but warm with recall
my wooden framed
childhood home
abandoned now to ghosts
specters of a youth
spent surrounded by love
by laughter
by learning
and by loss
one of the ghosts
in that old house
is my mother
who passed within its walls
on a summer day
not unlike today
as I sat sobbing
in my room
down the hall
my father kept me from her room
he feared the sickness that took her
might take me
so I never really
got to say goodbye to her
nor goodbye to the laughter
that died that day
nor goodbye to the smile
on my father’s face
for it was never seen again
it disappeared
as did my father
into deep debilitating depression
shortly after mother passed
I was moved away
to live with my aunt
in Oregon
today I will return
to say a long delayed goodbye
to my mother
and to lay my father to rest
in the cemetery
behind the dilapidated old church
where once they wed
he will at last
join with his dear wife
my sweet mother
the women he loved so
that his joy died with her
a cloud of sorrow
sweeps my mind
momentarily obscuring
my purpose and destination
then the fog wafts
and again I envision
across the veiled valley
of time and change
the hearth and home
of my birth
long faded
into yesteryear
now
sweet recall
and those distant memories
pull me onward
I am sad
but it’s a bittersweet sadness
tomorrow
my father
will again
be with my mother
ghosts
in our old house
as I return
I pray his smile
will at last return
he deserves to smile
my mother loved his smile
I love them both
down out of the mountains
into the twilight
of final goodbyes
I redouble my pace
This is a poem of mine from 2008, published in the 2010 RWP Anthology. It incorporates 3 Lines from Norman Dubie’s “Of Politics & Art”. The borrowed lines are italicized.
Here
on the farthest point of the peninsula
an office building is burning
ignited by a single match
careless or criminal
not yet known
inconceivable
that such a structure
can be so wholly engulfed
but the fire was too fierce
and the distance too great
for rescue
but what of the fury
in that single first flame
to have leapt so viciously to consume
to ravage
to devastate so absolutely
it is always there la nature du feu
like the rage of a repressed
and violated being
too long held down
unjustly deprived
confined
all potential denied
where there is great potential
spirit squelched
where there is great spirit
sometimes a whole civilization can be dying
until finally a single incident
the spark
unleashes a righteous inferno
that has no bounds
it is always there la nature du feu
all around the good people gather
stare in disbelief
how is this possible here
out here on the peninsula
not realizing that such power to combust
to blaze so brilliantly
can only be suppressed for so long
it is always there la nature du feu
ready to explode
like the fury in the head of that match
and when the smoulder becomes full flame
all will burn
out here on the peninsula
and in here at the still and protected center
”A fractal is a way of seeing infinity” — Benoit Mandelbrot
Ever folding in upon itself
in an infinite replication
as it expands to infinity
pattern upon pattern
in a complex unity
of cacophonic
harmony
of like form
differing layers
amorphous balance
in an eternal fracture
of evolving perfections
occurring simultaneously
on micro and macro planes
of mystery and comprehension
both appearing and disappearing
in the same linear moment of time
This is metaphorical. Perhaps if we felt more deeply the impact left behind, as we move in and out of relationships, of any kind — maybe we would conduct ourselves differently.
This day
I come upon a stranger
standing by the road
looking sad
heavy box held in her arms
clutched close to her breast
she stares into my eyes
expressionless
her gaze stops me still
fixes me in place
her face
tired and drawn
any light in her eyes
is gone
I draw close enough to see
a vague familiarity
she lifts her eyes to mine
and deeply sighs
before you ask
I am sworn
a sorrowful task
a collector of tears
shed in moonlight
tears caused by one
who‘s not contrite
guilty of love’s betrayal
who’s inflicted painful strife
and staggering sorrow
into another’s broken life
she concludes
and offers out her hands
that open on the box
filled with apprehension
I reach and grasp the case
lift it cautiously from her grip
lower it to my feet
gently as I place
opening it slowly
hesitant and tense
to reveal its strange contents
a small dull crescent moon shape
suspended in a most beautiful
dark cerulean jar
mute with wonder
I behold
staring into the beautiful blue
haunted as I do
this is yours
she explains it is the moonsoul
of the loversmoon
under which you fell in love
and under which again
you later broke your lover’s heart
she continues
every moon casts its spell
quite differently
this special loversmoon
belonged to you and she
but now this loversmoon has died
I am the shadow
of your lover’s sorrows
I will be gone tomorrow
but this night
I visit you
I collected this moonsoul
long ago
the night you broke her heart
kept in this jar of cerulean blue
I present it now to you
for you see
your lover’s soul
has passed on
she is gone
she need no longer carry
this heavy burden
she was a technicolor
wish-upon big-eyed dreamer
when first you met her
but she was cry-alone
stay-at-home broken
when you turned and left her
you are guilty
of the death
of the love you shared
snuffed by your cheating ways
now you must carry this moonsoul
until your end of days
her words fall heavy upon me
bring tears to my eyes
as I realize
the burden of this moonsoul
is mine beyond the grave
there is no one who can save
me from this awful plight
a pain that’s mine by right
eyes lowered in fatigue
forlornly
she sighs
and gently cries
it was on a moonlit night
like this
the painful burden
of this moonsoul
was set upon her broken heart
I have carried it
since she passed
but for too long
it’s now come to you
at last
looking into my eyes
as though my dark soul she can see
she points accusingly at me
you must now atone
for your destructive lies
for your lover’s broken heart
it is written
in the fool’s book of sorrows
what were her yesterdays
will now be your tomorrows
now you must bend and lift
and clutch this burden to your breast
to struggle with its weight
to feel its sad unrest
you now understand
what was your abandoned lover’s fate
your debt can no longer wait
the guilt that surrounds this moonsoul
the guilt you’ve avoided ‘til tonight
is now brought into the light
karma has caught up with you
as eventually it does
for the hurtful things we do
you slowly slayed
your special loversmoon
those times you were untrue
your lover’s been set free
now this guilt and sorrow
passes on to you
where certainly it should be
it’s now you must feel sad
and deeply sorry too
~ The human heart is always magical, always beautiful, though sometimes blocked by fear. But it will always rise, like a glorious sun, if supported by peace, love, and understanding — and when joined together with listening, patience, and sharing. That is the inspiration behind this mixed media fiberart piece, and this Eleventh Power poem. ~
The surest path that can lead the heart to peace
is the embrace of a true uplifting love
it will allow fear and mistrust to release
the heart will rise and soar — peaceful as a dove
and one’s confidence and joy will then increase
as one feels the warmth of love — and strength thereof
an open mind is a step to find the key
to unlock an honest love that sets you free
to seek such treasure requires a willingness
to share your life — giving more, expecting less
these are the keys to find love and happiness
~ Inspiration: living in the Pacific Northwest, part of the Pacific Ring, knowing we are very susceptible to a first strike — this awareness, and the instability on the Asian Continent, combined with these ‘4’ juicy quotes I used, proffered by Linda, drew this out. ~
When did it happen
the all-defining fire mark in time
that forever divided then from now
alone again today
lost in time
walking through the forest
wading the stream
sorting my thoughts
obsessively
recalling in horror
the instant of the startling sound
the strange light
that drew my disbelieving eyes
to the very tops of these Douglas Firs
that surround me now
and then came the second blinding flash
lighting the entire sky
“oh my god” I had gasped
“the damned fools have finally done it”
I was traumatized
by the horrible realization
she trembled
as we held each other I thought of the future
and spoke of the past
terrified of the present
what a fool I was
what really did I know
of the times
that bookended my life
or in which I was currently immersed
knew little useful
and understood less
I was feeling old
and so unaware
I’d become obsessed
always staring into the clouds
mumbling beneath my breath it’s better to look at the sky
than live there
such an empty place
so vague
just a country
where the thunder goes
and from which death rains
more than obsessed
I was becoming untethered
maybe the older you grow
and the less easy it is
to put thought into action
maybe that’s why
it gets all locked up in your head
and becomes a burden
makes you crazy
and angry
and I certainly was
seeing clearly my uncertainty
feeling the weight
of my growing pessimism
she left me
I just stood
mute
watching her go
civilization now in upheaval
infrastructure has collapsed
I am isolated here now
wandering
day after day
alone
very alone
home is where you feel at home
I’m still looking
since she is gone
it’s been too long
since I have seen a human face
or looked into another’s eyes
looked into her eyes
or even found my voice to speak
This is a poetry form I created. It is called a VERTICAL ENTWINE, and is 3 poems in one. Consists of 10 lines. The 1st, 3rd, 5th, 7th, and 9th line should be made up of several words each (5 or more) and when read descending are a complete poem number one. The 2nd, 4th, 6th, 8th, and 10th should be lines of one or two words, when read descending together are brief second complete poem. All ten lines, when read together, are a 44-word Quadrille. It does not have to rhyme, and should be center justified. Perhaps a short name for the form could be ‘Quatwine’.
Oh the peace, wandering the ancient old growth
my spirit is alive embracing the magnificent forest
my heart settles and slows its beating so quiet
my thoughts expand to see the timeless truth deeply
in this transcendent moment I celebrate all of life sacred
*
Oh the peace, wandering the ancient
my spirit is alive embracing the magnificent
my heart settles and slows its beating
my thoughts expand to see the timeless truth
in this transcendent moment I celebrate all of life
Yes
it’s definitely a tough world
a fractured world
a frightening situation
feels like it’s all
coming completely apart
hard to keep going at times
damned difficult
keeping your head above water
mentally
emotionally
financially
spiritually
makes one crazy sometimes
the constant bad news
climate degradation
ecological collapse
runaway gas prices
pandemic
war
political turmoil
lies masquerading as truth
sometimes it’s just too much
almost makes you wanna hide
but remember
no matter how overwhelming
no matter how disheartening
even terrifying
things might be
you always have me
my love
and if we
as mindful inhabitants
of this fragile planet
will extend each other
patience
understanding
and love
this fractured world
can be nurtured and healed
and darkness will sustain no grip
