Fractured

there is a fracture
where the bones won’t properly knit

bandaids and tourniquets have their place
crutches and canes have their uses
but for breaks, the bones must first be set
or they will join askew
and the pain will remain

the worst of it is
that each fragment of bone
blames another fragment for the break
and they refuse to be set
and they refuse to heal
and they refuse to be whole
for they think that the pain
of being set
would be worse
than the pain
of remaining fractured

there is a fracture
where the bones won’t properly knit
and the ache is intense

~~

a few rambling thoughts on racism and how it fractures a nation. My nation. Your nation too. It’s easy to heap blame or to say “suck it up…those hurts were in the past”, but without understanding…without compassion…without reconciliation, the pain will remain, the pain will worsen, and the pain will cripple.

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Noah

no more to come by two and two
the ark was filled from stern to bow
God closed the door of this first zoo
with chicken, pig, and horse and cow

the waters came from spring and cloud
until the earth was one vast lake
the storm was fierce, the thunder loud
on lion, elephant and snake

Ten humans only still had breath:
old Noah and his tiny clan
while on the earth below was death
for every child, woman, man

and while a few in safety slept
God looked upon the world – and wept

Goliath

a giant on the battlefield
defies the army of the Lord
and one by one the soldiers yield
each one afraid to face that sword

a shepherd boy too young to fight
is sent to see how brothers fare
and when he sees the soldiers plight
he says, “Send me! For I will dare”

he takes no sword or shield in hand
but sling and rocks he holds instead
and armed with God, he takes his stand
and strikes the enemy down dead

not speed, nor might, but Who he knew
and thus his stone fly straight and true

Prose Sonnet (an experiment)

can it still be called a sonnet if it lacks of fourteen lines, yet has one-hundred-forty syllables? And if the words fit within a prescribed rhyme scheme, so instead of counting lines, syllables were counted and then multiples of ten were all rhymed and broken into lines they amounted to Elizebethan form or they mimed the schemes of Petrarch or Spencer?

Can you call it a sonnet if it reads more like prose than poem, but it still adheres to a few of the rules? Is it a sonnet? Who knows!

Count my syllables, and after each ten, make a line break. Is it a sonnet then?

~~

The above is my experiment in what I would like to call a “prose sonnet”. My idea with this is to do with the sonnet what Allen Ginsberg did to the haiku with his “American Sentence”. If you do count the syllables in my piece, you will find (unless I miscounted), that syllables with a multiple of 10 are rhymed ABAB,CDCD,EFEF,GG as would be the case in an Elizebethan sonnet.

I’m posting this to dVerse, for Open Link Night. Please do go visit, and read the works of some rather fabulous poets!  (This also responds to Bjorn’s Tuesday prompt to write a poem in questions)

Song of Fire – Part XI

One by one we bid each other goodbye.
There are the hugs given to friends who are
heading to the airport from where they’ll fly
to some resort. They never seem too far
away, as we know that they’ll soon be back.
Harder, though, are those final farewells, said
to loved ones who have stepped beyond the crack
that separates this world from the next. Red
eyed from grief, it might be tempting to think
we’d be better off if we didn’t bare
our souls to that most temporary link
called friendship, and yet, how sad not to dare!
for though each life like each flame one day ends
we’re richer for the time we’ve spent with friends

~~

for dVerse Open Link Night

The whole cycle, thus far, can be found if you click on the link for “The Elements – Sonnet Cycles” at the top of this page, and then select “fire”

Song of Fire – Part X

It was over a year ago that I posted part IX of this cycle, so if you need some context, click on “The Elements – Sonnet Cycles” at the top of this page, and then select “fire” (or select “water” if you would like to read a cycle that has actually been completed) .  Needless to say, this installment is drastically overdue.

~~

Around the circle a silence descends.
There’s a feeling, sensed by all, that soon
this joyous time celebrated with friends
must draw to a close. Someone strums a tune
softly on a guitar. A soothing song:
perhaps to the flames, or maybe to those
with whom you would now gladly carry on
(though strangers an hour ago). Who knows
why the fire works in this way: to draw
people together from stranger to friend?
Perhaps, though, this circle has its own flaw:
we are reluctant to let the time end.
And so, it is with a most heartfelt sigh
One by one we bid each other goodbye

~~

Sharing with dVerse for Open Link Night

Dotted Line

A border is a crossing/division/barrier
a dotted line on a map that says
this side/that side
a dotted line that says
trust/suspicion
truth/propoganda
mine/should be mine
a dotted line on a map that gives
an excuse for hate
a dotted line that says
war/war

~~

“Border” is the theme of the day over at dVerse