I know
you are sorry,
but I will not bestow
mercy that bears no guarantee
for me
Category Archives: poetry
Household Songs: The Brief and Unremarkable Life of Joseph Clarence Strauss/III
Dazzling under a golden pansy,
deceptively smooth arms
lazily beckon our inquisitive mimic towards sparkling
white porcelain.
But when four fingers meet,
small sanguinary seeds
sink into a waiting puddle of warm,
milky water.
——-
Two-year-old children are a curious bunch!
:::untitled:::
Turn down the lantern,
Dear, for tigers in the night
seek out pulsating shadows.
Fierce claws pose no threat.
Where love’s mantle has been laid,
darkness shall never abide.
Farewell to the Ancient
Fear not, for I shall
bear witness to your
broken egg body as it
dawdles on a day that
might be its last. Those
four jagged cliffs will
surely collapse before
scarlet trumpets descend
upon our land.
I will remember. And
when the violets rise
again, I shall speak of
you tenderly with a
voice spun from honey.
Sleep. Lay your weary
head upon the cool
stone. This unseen
world will fall away.
Sleep.
Cinquain/LXXIV
black veil,
who is beneath
your silk, adumbral wale?
such bewitching crimson lips wreathe
her teeth!
Dispatch to the North
I often think about the alternate paths
that you might have chosen. The unknown
ones beyond the white picket fence.
Perhaps, you own a vintage record
shop. And smile at customers with
sunshine flowing all over your back.
Sweet and low, your voice floats over
scores of ears – sweat trickling down
rough rosy cheeks.
In the country on a Sunday evening. You
sip on white wine while listening to The
Carter Family. Yakking on a porch swing.
At Hampton Court Gardens you enjoy
a spot of tea. The tulips blooming as
far as your blue, beloved eyes can see.
One thousand roads fan out behind us.
Yellow woods, wondrous and vast, shall
never be encountered again.
Household Songs: The Brief and Unremarkable Life of Joseph Clarence Strauss/II
Two cumbersome drumsticks slap against
oak boards, straining
to turn their aimless rhythm into a
graceful cadence.
At last, the unyielding determination
of youth tumbles
onto an emerald labyrinth of rose leaves
and cries.
Empty Vessels
I still can see small golden lights ablaze
within a glossy, yellow coffee tin
near bonny faces from those olden days.
They left sweet scars beneath my withered skin.
Their voices ring inside the attic’s din.
But tender hearts were silenced long ago;
why they departed, I shall never know.
****
edited after initial posting
Interview (a Rubliw)
The Rubliw was invented by American poet Richard Wilbur. It is a 9 line form that is framed as a message to an individual person or to a larger group of people. The Rubliw is monorhymed and bears the following iambic structure.
L1 – monometer
L2 – dimeter
L3 – trimeter
L4 – tetrameter
L5 – pentameter
L6 – tetrameter
L7 – trimeter
L8 – dimeter
L9 – monometer
Household Songs: The Brief and Unremarkable Life of Joseph Clarence Strauss/I
Supple pink lips stretch boldly
towards a breathless,
iron-streaked sky to capture slender morsels
of air.
What haunting songs will make
their indelible marks
on this child’s untouched life? Soon, time
shall speak.
————————————————————————————-
In July, I wrote a short poem entitled Household Songs. A few weeks later I wrote another poem in the same format and ended up naming it Household Songs: II because at the time, I couldn’t think of a better name for it. I have now decided to expand those pieces into a longer narrative poem which will consist of thirty short sections. Household Songs is about the life of Joseph Clarence Strauss, who was born at his father’s homestead in 1867 in Lehigh County, Pennsylvania.
There are two elements of this poem that are not fiction. The homestead in question is modeled after an abandoned two-story home–built in 1860–that is roughly a ten minute drive from my childhood home. In 1865, a Thomas Strauss did in fact purchase that house as well as a grist mill that was on the property, however Joseph Clarence Strauss is merely a figment of my imagination. That house has always fascinated me, even to this day. I have often wondered what its walls would say if they could talk and so for me, the Strauss home seemed like fitting subject material from which I could construct a longer poem.
The respective sections of Household Songs depict a moment from each year of Joseph’s life, in chronological order. I intend to post one section every week.
sundry folly 