Tag Archives: universe

Day 11 — sacred spaces + holy books

The poetry volume I read today was On the Wire, assembled by friends of Adelaide poet John Pfitzner (& one of my two fellow poets along with Rachael Mead in New Poets’ 17) after his death.  In that collection there’s a poem called “Sacred Place”. I combined this theme/idea with a NaPoWriMo prompt from a few days ago which I’ve been keen to try. It’s a form poem & I always like to do at least a couple of them during this month especially if I’ve never written one before. The form & idea seem to blend very well.

The ghazal originates in Arabic poetry, and is often used for love poems (especially spiritual/divine love). Ghazals commonly consist of five to fifteen couplets that are independent from each other but are nonetheless linked abstractly in their theme; and more concretely by their form. In English ghazals, the usual constraints are that:

the lines all have to be of around the same length (formal meter/syllable-counts are not employed);

and both lines of the first couplet end on the same word or words, which then form a refrain that is echoed at the end of each succeeding couplet.

Another aspect of the traditional ghazal form that has become popular in English is having the poet’s own name (or a reference to the poet – like a nickname) appear in the final couplet.

The Poetic Factoid came out of a google concerning THE Most Sacred/Holiest Books, of which oddly, there was little consensus. 

*****

sacred spaces: a ghazal

my 4 poster bed was chosen cos it also holds books
softest safest sublimest place i know to read books

air chairs under ancient elms float light as words
drift in & out of wispy worlds as i read books

Dorothea’s wingtip chair by the window more
a chairshelf ATM but where i’ve often read books

outdoor setting made from an old oak barrel 
there beneath the silver birch i read books

north-facing scorched wide-armed wooden bench 
in autumn setting sunshine i love to read books

beautiful bench of ceramic fish in the shade
an elegant corner to stay cool & read books

— the truth is every space becomes sacred
every time gareth takes out one of his books

settles in & experiences the miracle of reading

*****

Day 11 Factoid – Holy Books

most holey

google ain’t too definitive
regarding the holiest book
there are a few frequently 
mentioned contenders

Christianity’sBible(Old&NewTestaments)Islam’sQuranJudaism’sTanakh&TalmudHinduism’sBhagavadGita
VedasUpanishadsPuranasBuddhism’sTripitaka(PaliCanon)Sikhism’sGuruGranthSahibTaoism’sTaoTeChing
Jainism’sAagamConfucianism’sAnalectsShintoism’sKojikiNihonShokiZoroastrianism’sAvestaBaha’iFaithth
eKitábiAqdasKitábiÍqánScientology’sDianetics&TheLatterDaySaints’BookofMormonAnotherTestamentofJ
esusChristakaAnAccountWrittenbytheHandofMormonuponPlatesTakenfromthePlatesofNephi
among others

a lot of work working out the best one

my suggestion for a smaller list
Cosmos. Carl Sagan. The. End.

Day 06 — been a weird couple of months 

A list poem, that in turn, contains several ideas/lines that might themselves become their own poems this month.

the weird love, 

the tyrannical distance,
the disparate time zones,
the clashing schedules,
the near twenty years,
the roller coaster that never coasts,
the bicoastal bipolar,
the unromantic romance,
the life-is-not-a-fairytale,
the beautiful beast,
the beastly beauty,
the attractive repulsion,
the anxious agony,
the unmated souls,
the singing universe,
the sparkling shiver, 
the cold silence,
the nagging thorn,
the out-of-sync hearts,
the half-made promise,
the broken chain,
the joke that bombed,
the unequal exchange,
the one word reply,
the stranger in the bed,
the intimate inmate inside the head,
the reluctant endearments,
the belligerent confessions,
the definitions of love,
the expectations on love,
the ramifications if it is love,

the very real ghost of another …

Day 26 – poem about not asking your mother for ideas

Cat Nap Over a Starry Night CROP

Late at night, and no poem written, I foolhardily ask my mother for a noun, verb & adjective. The resulting cat, spinning & fluffy do little to inspire. Immediately I regretted asking. My first off-the-cuff effort took only 10 seconds.

     the fluffy cat
     did not sit
     on the mat
     instead spent
     her time
     spinning

After 45 minutes of trying other things, I had nothing so quickly whipped up… It could get better next draft. (Couldn’t it?)

fluffy spinning cat

i knew the cat was not
from the same universe
as me almost as soon
as she showed up
on my mat

now i’m not normally
a cat fan but this one
was so fluffy i nearly
forgave it its
felinity

which is, of course,
the very worst thing
you can do to any cat
intergalactic
or not

she slowly smiled until
she disappeared
teeth last, popped back
climbed with all claws
up my thigh

dematerialised with a ping
returned sitting on
the window sill, squeaked
in a high pitched voice
& sent me to asleep

as i start to drift off
the stars start spinning
she pulls out a red balloon
& floats away up
into the sky

& curls up for a catnap
in the crescent moon

 

Day 21 – poem about the dark

milky_way_panorama_by_bobby01-d48thle

Visits to my parents’ farm during New Moons have always been mystical. I like walking over land I cannot quite see. Beautiful blackness in all directions. Only the frail light of starlight millions of years old to guide my way (hell, that’s good, why isn’t that in the pome? haha).

I’m not satisfied with the last lines, but as I only started this an hour or so ago, I’m running out of time & will just have to let it stay as is for now.

source

i believe very little
but i truly believe
every human soul
should experience
true country dark
every 100 days, minimum

somewhere far from
a light polluted city
when the moon is in
recovery mode, & the earth
reflects back the black
birth of the universe

only alone in the vast absence
& endlessly reverberating silence
we find how much dark matters

Day 10 – Celestial Motions

Today was always going to be about this topic, given it is 4 months since one of my best mates died. I’ve tried half a dozen times to write about this loss (as well as other recent & ongoing ones) without much success. This comes closest so far …

nebula

& so . in a way . we all die young .
younger than we’d like . even if
we live to a hundred and twenty .
younger than our loved ones want
too . too long lost . in that aching
chasm . that distance between
stars that is all that’s left . when
there is nothing of you . left . except
a wisp . a tear . an echo of laughter .
a hair . a sigh . a gasp . a stifled
sob . an aimless wandering from
room to room . trying to remember
where you are . where you went . & why

cone CROP

NOTE: cover is from Tracy K. Smith’s lovely collection, Life on Mars. It is imaginatively titled: ‘Cone Nebula Close Up’ (I think in part because it is a Close Up of the Cone Nebula).

NOTE 2: I know ‘technically’ this poem may not really Ekphrastic in the strictest sense of the word, but is definitely an emotional response to the image.

April 10 – Day Ten: something small

There’s nothing big about this one.  A friend argued with her horse.  I had surgery 2 weeks ago.  We all have our bruises.

bruise

all the colours have faded now
vivid reds & princely purples
the violet of betrayal
the blue silver fishscale gleam
the dull golding around the edges
as crushed capillaries let go their anger

yes, this fruitcup bruise has faded
like those before, crushed but unbroken.
the frozen peas remain in the freezer
for use in mornays & hearty stews

wait for the fading to start
from areas didn’t think you could reach
deep vein blue & red ventricle heart
the addicted galah-coloured striatum
& the bluesilverglow in every cell
that talks to the universe

*****

article-new-thumbnail_ehow_images_a02_2l_f3_treat-black-eye-bruise-800x800

 

A Black eye.  Image: ehow.com