Poem #30 - A Sonnet

Well, today is the final day of November. A full month of poetry and as I looked back through the blog archive over the last 29 poems, I've realized how quickly and slowly the month has gone. So much has happened: newlywed poems, a friend's wedding, my cousin's birthday, writer's block, dirty haiku, and untranslatable words.

My poetry partner in crime, sasqi, also messaged me tonight to mark this eve of departure into the rest of our poetic lives. With it, she sent today's poem, a beautiful moving sestina.

Tonight, I took her cue again with a form poem. I found myself struggling to sit down and actually write (a month of poems is HARD, my mind said, and the dishes had been waiting for days...), but then realized, again, what to write about?

One of my message over this month with sasqi checking in on our poetic adventure was about how I was grateful for its timing. For me, it's been a year of celebrating my love and commitment for and to another person. Our second and final (?) wedding was in October and by the time the first of November came around, I found myself wanting only to write of her and my love for her.... *sigh*

Of course, as you know, I didn't write sappy love poems all month. But it did feel appropriate to end this project with a form poem historically dedicated to love: the sonnet.

Without much more ado then, I give you a love sonnet. First though, one more thing: I don't know yet if I'll keep writing a poem a day from December 1st onward, but I'm sure glad I did in November. And, I like writing to you again so check back here tomorrow.

Sonnet #30

Waking up beside you looks like all this:

your sweet face hidden by a quilt cover;

eyelids closed in absolute blissfulness;

a kiss waiting on your lips, my lover.

Rising in the morning with you brings such

joy for the day's possibilities that I

can hardly contain songs from my lips much

or from snuggling back into you beside.

But this is only the briefest of times.

Then the day stretches out before us--

away from the lands of duvets the clock chimes

and the hours become our heard chorus.

Still, my love, my sweetheart, my one darling,

there is always the song of the starlings.*

*Poetic inspiration to ee cummings and Josh Ritter

What'll It Be for the Next Generation

In a discussion with Alex about the increasing instantification of our culture and that effect on kids born post-1995 who have never known differently led me to remember the day my dad brought home our first stereo with a CD player.

A big box labelled stero

with a built-in CD player, and

Sheryl Crow's new album.

I danced around the dining room table

to All I Wanna Do, delighted.

For Wednesday - Yesterday

Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away
Now it looks as though they're here to stay
Oh, I believe in yesterday

Suddenly, I'm not half the man I used to be
There's a shadow hanging over me.
Oh, I yesterday came suddenly

Why she had to go I don't know she wouldn't say
I said something wrong, now I long for yesterday

Yesterday, love was such an easy game to play
Now I need a place to hide away
Oh, I believe in yesterday

Why she had to go I don't know she wouldn't say
I said something wrong, now I long for yesterday

Yesterday, love was such an easy game to play
Now I need a place to hide away
Oh, I believe in yesterday
Mm mm mm mm mm mm mm

Listening to the Stars

Dad, the guitarist is wearing a Triumph of London shirt.

For Sunday - Have You Ever?

Brandi Carlile...

Money Note

Check it:



The music video is even better.

When the bee stings...

I was upset this morning, and wrapping a package in brown paper wrapping to send off from work. Suddenly, under my breath, I started singing songs from the Sound of Music: girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes, snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes, silver white winters that melt into spring, these are a few of my favorite things...

Needless to say, I felt better.

Wind Instruments

I picked up my clarinet again tonight for the first time in over a year. More like a year and a half. The last time I played it was a warm, cloud-free summer evening Culver City, the porch light, a few flying insects and an aluminum trailer to keep me company.

For the past few days, my fingers have started to itch to play. Family has been visiting, I've had to work, emails and to-do lists have been beckoning me. But tonight as I got off the phone with a dear (and musically talented) friend eight time zones away, I saw the clocked ticked 15 mins until a reasonable bed time--just enough for a few goes on the clarinet.

Like the QWERTY keyboard is to me now, my fingers knew their respective positions on my wind instrument. Of all the items in my possession, my clarinet may be one of the oldest: we bought it for my second year of band in school and it's been with me ever since. I was probably an intermediate clarinetist when I stopped, and the beginners book is really what I'd prefer at the moment, and there is some sense of freedom and history in just playing a few notes, running a few scale patterns together--like picking up a conversation with a long lost friend and remembering it the same as ever with refreshing nuances and changes since you last spoke.

Mary Chapin Carpenter

I don't remember how old I was. It could have been when I was under 5 and 1/2--cause I don't remember where my brother was--or I could have been about 8 or 9. Either way, I loved everything about the concert. My parents got three tickets to see Mary Chapin Carpenter live at some theatre in the East Bay and I knew every word to every one of her songs. My parents commented later on how amazing her back-up band was, how fantastic her performance of 'Shut Up and Kiss Me' worked the crowd.

I couldn't have cared less about the former, but I remember her descending the stage and strutting her way through the center aisle, finding an appropriate lap to sit on at the opportune chorus moment. I was mesmorized by her perfomance, and sang right along with her. It was less that I wanted to be down there with her, an aisle seat on the path she walked, but more that I wanted to be her. To have that guts--and the glory--that raw talent.

A child under ten sitting next to her parents, singing along to every song was probably a sight to be seen. I remembered the guy behind me making some remark part way through the show, he had noticed my talent for lyrics, if you want to call it that. Me, I couldn't have been happier. It remains one of my favorite concerts of all time.

Hump Day

Winding down from a day at work (More to Life Centre) and work (Rick's Cafe), my mind is floating along. 'This is us, at the Mardi Gras, This is us...' by Emmylou Harris and Mark Knofler. Something about Alexander and his terrible, horrible, no good very bad day (even though my day, while stressful, was definitely not like Alexander's). Then there's the cowboys & the cowgirls: picturebooks, key chains, tea mugs. My hair even feels like it hurts. Oh man, my hair can't feel. Maybe this is a sign of how tired I am.

Winter Song

To follow up from the snow yesterday, the radio played a cover of Sara Bareilles and Ingrid Michelson's Winter Song. I very much like theirs better, and Alex put it on the first mix she made me for my birthday, when she was moving so far away across the ocean.

The song with background photage of the making of:

If you just want the song without a bit of commentary (but with random photos):

Happy winter...

Bach

My friend Emily took piano lessons and horse riding lessons growing up. I was fascinated by this; either possibility had never really crossed my mind for myself. Emily would compete in Bach Piano competitions as we got older. I went to one, piled in the suburban with the rest of her family. Emily wore a black dress, I think.

For her 20th birthday, I got us tickets to go hear a Bach concerto at the San Francisco Symphony Hall. We sat in the highest balcony, leaning over the curved marble edge to peer down at the musicians, the vocalists, the harpsicord.

All throughout the concerto, I got lost within the music, wandered in the music, scribbling on my arm with a black ink pen: I had forgotten to bring any paper at all, did not know I would need paper to record--record...--the thoughts that came to me, the lines of poetry.

Lately, I have wanted to find myself in a symphony hall once more. I don't think I would have ever listened to Bach before without Emily. I miss both of them.

Wasteside - Regina Spektor

In 2005 & 2006, I used to carry this chorus around with me in my head all day, singing it through the redwoods, pruning back plants while gardening, generally wandering about. Tonight, I am going to see Regina Spektor live. Wow.

---

I was sleeping by the wasteside of tomorrow
But its better than sleeping by the wasteside of today
All the barbershops and funeral-homes were open
And the customers were coming and the business was doing great

I was sleeping by the wasteside of tomorrow
Just dreaming dreams and drooling on my bed
All the people in my town would be born
Then they'd get themselves a little hair cut
And then promptly after they'd be dead

I was sleeping by the wasteside of tomorrow
When a drunk girl awoke me on the train
But I did not see her stumbling and I did not hear her mumbling
As I dubbed myself a passenger
And kindly stepped away

I was sleeping by the wasteside of tomorrow I was sleeping
I was sleeping I was sleeping by the wasteside of tomorrow
I was sleeping by the wasteside of tomorrow of tomorrow
Ladies and gentlemen
I was just sleeeeee-ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

I was sleeping by the wasteside of tomorrow
But it's better than sleeping by the wasteside of today
All the barbershops and funeral-homes were open
And the customers were coming and the business
Was
Doing
Great...

One Week

And as it is one week until my papers are due (and I still have much writing to finish) I'm giving myself a holiday from blogging...but not before leaving you with some entertainment, first: 7 versions of "One Week" by The Barenaked Ladies (lyrics below)...I love the internet.

Tuesday - the Original Music Video

Wednesday - Stick Figure Drawings

Thursday - Live


Friday - Pretty Good Cover


Saturday - Not So Good Cover


Sunday - Anime (but I don't really recommend it)


Monday - Morgan Freeman Perfection

Have a good week, y'all! See you next Tuesday!