Surrounded by a quiet sea of words
Unlike the place where I was just annoyed
That coffee shop in Lorton, where the herds
Made noises that I know I should avoid!
I like it here where quietude resides
It seems the words all want to splash my beach
And yet they don’t annoy me with their tides
They’re like the mermaids singing, each to each
And unlike Prufrock, they will sing to me
I’ll dare to eat a peach and drink some wine
I’ll dare to swim in this, their quiet sea
Where words will ebb and flow in grace, divine!
My little songs will linger in this sea
Where human voices wake me, quietly.
I wonder if they know that they annoy
this poet as he tries to write his songs
He knows they’re only little songs of joy
But joy knows where each word of his belongs
The poet and his words might be annoyed
by people in the coffee shop who laugh
a bit too loud for poets to avoid
But seeds of sound sometimes appear as chaff
Was Hamlet interrupted by some fool?
Did Shakespeare make Polonius from that?
Are interruptions just a simple tool
good poets use, like sailors chew the fat?
I’ll try to turn annoyance into art
For that appears to be the poet’s part!
I wish they’d put this cat in every tree
To guide me through my private wonderland
It seems he likes to be and not to be
He tells me things I ought to understand
Like when I ask the cat which way to go
He tells me that it matters not at all
I’ll surely get to somewhere. Now I know
I’d like to make it to my curtain call
They’re mad both to the east and to the west
Poor players strut and fret upon this stage
I guess I like their sound and fury best
But most of all, I like this cat; he’s sage
They tell me he’s a Cheshire cat; that’s fine
I only wish this Cheshire cat was mine!
I found some bread to take and feed the ducks
I sat beside their pond and broke the bread
I think they thought the bread crumbs were deluxe
At least I’m sure they liked that they were fed
They didn’t seem to mind my big dog, Beau
Five ducklings and their mother paddled up
To get the breadcrumbs I would tear and throw
Beau comes with me since he was just a pup
We like to feed the ducks; they like us too
They’ve never been afraid of Beau; he’s kind
I think there’s part of Beau that’s duck; I do!
But if he’s only dog, I still don’t mind
When I find bread, Beau knows we’ll feed his friends
Beside the pond, where friendship never ends!
This is the tune I am working into this sonnet:
My Angel is a sparkling dream of lights
She rises like a million shining stars
I dream her by my side on lonely nights
She comes to me like Venus comes to Mars
Without her near, I feel the void of space
Within my empty heart, I feel the need
To fill the darkness with her brilliant grace
A grace no other angel can exceed
My Angel’s brilliant grace is light that shines
Through darkness, in my empty, lonely heart
There’s beauty in the orbits she designs
To bring me back when we may drift apart
Like diamonds in the heavens or my dreams
I love the way my Angel’s brilliance gleams!
A sister of the Oceanids, she rose
To give the weary traveler a kiss
I love the way her liquid beauty flows
Forgive me if I pause to reminisce
The traveler she kissed was none but me
I still remember wishing on a star
That I could be at one with her, the sea
And so I traveled long and very far
I found her in the East where it was warm
The rising sun gives beauty to her life
She dances like a wave tossed by a storm
With peace and grace her gentleness is rife
I love when Asia calls me from her place
And blows her gentle kisses on my face
Red Riding Hood had walked the woods before
A basketful of food upon her arm
She took it through her grandma’s cottage door
Where she and grandma dined without alarm!
But one day when her grandma was too sick
To rise up from her bed to lock her door
A wolf came in and played a big bad trick
He gobbled grandma up and wanted more!
He dressed like grandma, climbed into her bed
Red Riding Hood came in, devoid of fear
“What teeth you have,” was what the young girl said
The Wolf replied, “To eat you with, my dear!”
Just then a hunter did what hunters do
He saved Red Riding Hood and grandma too!
I stood beside the Blackbird and inhaled
I didn’t just inhale; I caught my breath
The planes I saw around her simply paled
They built her more for graceful speed than death
I wondered if her spirit was at rest
Or if she flew above, where eagles soar
To godly heights her spirit can attest
And even in her peace, her engines roar!
Her body calls the Udvar-Hazy home
I love to visit air and space with her
It seems a shame our bodies cannot roam
And yet we still remember what we were
She’s more than just a bird; she is a queen
With grace that’s more than I have ever seen.
I took my son (who just started hockey last year) to watch the Washington Capitals play against the Tampa Bay Lightning in DC tonight.
(Caps won 4-3!)
I actually wrote this sonnet during the game.
We came to watch the Caps command the ice
Ovechkin and the other boys in red
Their blades were knives and they knew how to slice
If blood was pucks, the other team was bled
They blew the horn, the fans yelled, “Let’s go Caps!”
We made some noise to tell the Caps they rock!
We watched ’em check the other hockey chaps
They gave those other chaps a brutal shock!
A power play became a classic score
The Caps went up, and then went up again!
For them the game’s a game; it’s not a chore
And yet, they play this hockey game to win!
We watched the Caps command the ice with grace
And put their poor opponents in their place.
I know I say that words are only words
And that they need to be poetic right
They flit around my head like little birds
They may not be sonnettic, but they might
If little songs are all my words can make
I’ll sing them like a Poe to my Lenore
But if the golden bowl is bound to break
I’ll sell my words like some sonnettic whore
They’re only words, but please come watch them whirl
Not everyone can see them like you do
They’re only wisdom to some silly girl
I won’t believe that silly girl is you!
Sometimes I write poetic wrong, or shit
But if you read my words, I’ll never quit!