June, The Perfect Days
poetry writing that formulates a concentrated imaginative awareness of experience in language chosen and arranged to create a specific response through meaning, sound, and rhythm; also, something likened to poetry esp. in beauty of expression
The above definition gives a poet two choices: to follow a strict pattern of rhythm and rhyme, or to express emotion in what is called "free verse". The sonnet form has been demonstrated here previously; also examined has been the carefree "doggerel". Free verse is the poetry of choice for June. The first day of June gives rise to thoughts of a certain beginning.
Verse 1
When we walk we float
over curbs, skirt open manholes,
teeter on brinks, oblivious -
nothing exists but us.
Through some phenomenon of mind
other people fade, become transparent,
disappear.
And yet I see you clearly
and I know that you see me.
The next poem represents a future time and experience. It is not an ending; it is a midpoint, and its subject is the same as in Verse 1.
Verse 2
The rain attacks my darkened pane
with wet and urgent-knuckled rap.
Aroused, I step with eager tread
to press my cheek against
the cold, vibrating glass, and
strain to see...
night. The roaring void holds only wind
and cross-hatched rain.
You are not there.
I sink to lonely sheets, curl myself
to fetal form and wait for warmth from
quilt and wool to comfort me.
Stacatto shattered drops drum on,
demanding a response.
I shut it out, withdraw to my secure
cocoon
And hear my soft and solitary pulse
repeat in gentle rhythms where you are.
Both verses are about the same thing, but diverse in tone and taken from different viewpoints. If you were to write a poem, would you use the traditional form or free verse? Do you recognize the subject matter in the above poems? Have you written or attempted to write poetry?
James Russell Lowell wrote
The above definition gives a poet two choices: to follow a strict pattern of rhythm and rhyme, or to express emotion in what is called "free verse". The sonnet form has been demonstrated here previously; also examined has been the carefree "doggerel". Free verse is the poetry of choice for June. The first day of June gives rise to thoughts of a certain beginning.
Verse 1
When we walk we float
over curbs, skirt open manholes,
teeter on brinks, oblivious -
nothing exists but us.
Through some phenomenon of mind
other people fade, become transparent,
disappear.
And yet I see you clearly
and I know that you see me.
The next poem represents a future time and experience. It is not an ending; it is a midpoint, and its subject is the same as in Verse 1.
Verse 2
The rain attacks my darkened pane
with wet and urgent-knuckled rap.
Aroused, I step with eager tread
to press my cheek against
the cold, vibrating glass, and
strain to see...
night. The roaring void holds only wind
and cross-hatched rain.
You are not there.
I sink to lonely sheets, curl myself
to fetal form and wait for warmth from
quilt and wool to comfort me.
Stacatto shattered drops drum on,
demanding a response.
I shut it out, withdraw to my secure
cocoon
And hear my soft and solitary pulse
repeat in gentle rhythms where you are.
Both verses are about the same thing, but diverse in tone and taken from different viewpoints. If you were to write a poem, would you use the traditional form or free verse? Do you recognize the subject matter in the above poems? Have you written or attempted to write poetry?
James Russell Lowell wrote
And what is so rare as a day in June? Then, if ever, come perfect days.
7 Comments:
Goodness, what intense poetry! I think the narrator needs a meaningful hobby to keep things in perspective...not YOU, Odysseuse, but the anonymous, mythic narrator of the poems.
May I suggest that she/he adopt a homeless companion animal and stop all this lollygagging around?
By Anonymous, at 6/01/2005 6:06 PM
As a published poet and writer, I wish to commend you on your essay. This is a jewel, exquisite and pristine. We might all wish to contemplate its meaning and the emotions it evokes within each of us and to appreciate the labor and the love that went into its composition.
By Anonymous, at 6/01/2005 6:55 PM
Yes, I agree with the previous comment! I think my mom, Odysseuse, knows that I think everything she writes is masterful and meaningful and I am proud of her!
(I still think the poetry is a little intense for my taste, but that in no way reflects on the skill and artistry it demonstrates).
By Anonymous, at 6/01/2005 7:01 PM
...I also thinks that Odysseuse is all too familiar with my sense of humor, which sometimes can be miscontrued on the written page...
By Anonymous, at 6/01/2005 7:03 PM
These are just beautiful, ML! The second poem actually gave me a lump in my throat.
When my husband had very risky surgery five months ago and was in the hospital for awhile, I felt desolate without him. The bed was too big, I felt like it was gray and rainy all the time (inside) and I kept imagining I heard him calling me---just like the poem's author imagined seeing her beloved coming home. It was a very bad time!
Thanks so much for sharing these poems. I'm still sniffling.
By Anonymous, at 6/01/2005 8:04 PM
I don't write a lot of poetry and certainly have never been published. I prefer free form...it seems to mirror my thought process. Interestingly both of my daughters write poetry and the older of the two also writes fantasy and fiction. This is something we have all been drawn to rather than directed to in any way.
By Anonymous, at 6/02/2005 3:29 PM
This is to thank all of you who have left comments on this posting. Your thoughts are valuable to me.
By marguerite louise, at 6/03/2005 9:27 PM
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