Author Archives: John S

omens of happiness

they seem to portend
a link,
just as paper clips,
pulled from the cup;
one is removed
another follows,

a chain created.

Or with only one,
compressing a stack
of paper, each page
containing an old poem,
sandwiched between
alighting smiles,
and upside-down songs.

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Today is the International Day of Happiness (declared by the UN)…

A link below from a blog, with various quotes about happiness.

http://interestingliterature.com/2014/03/20/20-quotations-from-writers-about-happiness/

‘A happy life consists not in the absence, but in the mastery of hardships.’ – Helen Keller

Have a frabjous day!

being, true

a marionette soldier,
painted apple red
and royal blue,
folded and put away,
piled in what construes
an uncomfortable position.
     His absent expression
     looks more about a wait
     on war,

all parts affected,

loosely strung

     than wishing for
     a gentle hand gesture
     for a moment played and spared
     his need for motion sated.

with threads connected –
though not his wont
   

   thinking that the songs
    and dances were his own,
    and all is right with God.

stretched, strained
and being,
true from time’s perspective.

into the wind

It was cold when
I heard her singing, but
it was only an interlude,
filled with the remnants
that had dropped in between
an arpeggio’d smile.
still -improvised- it was enough
to wrap me against the wishes
of the wind,
as I chased it over the hill,
and casted fate in a song
of my own,
written in summer’s tongue.

a lonely poem

this, the dim-light winter brings-
uncertain angst? -between the ease-
hoisted placards for all to see
that neither laugh nor blithely sing.

smudged, it looks out through murky panes,
at reflections flickering in the rain
its fabric stitched, retorn, and sewn
and still would morph it’s blood and bone.

words turn away from darkened doors
quiet clomps on hardwood floors,
with off-slant rhythms felt before.

just awaiting light conceived
in charcoal darkness, that gives reprieve
with slightly onamatopoeic schemes that knock
and awake the patchwork echos here
but deadbolts keep out hope and fear.

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This was an attempt to describe the dark feeling of not being good enough. Loneliness, especially in winter, can propogate fear. Spend time in the sun!

brief snippets

…just because I feel like writing a post, and I don’t really have any poetry ready, this is what you get.

Milestone: This week, I reached 1000 followers on the blog. I am thrilled that this many people and/or bots have decided to link and check an update every now and then. For you semi regular readers: person in India who likes my poem “Respite,” friends of “Earful of Cider“, and those that search for sonnets and happen upon mine…..Thank you.

I hope you will continue to visit, comment occasionally, and enjoy my poetry.

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Adjacent tunes on an mp3 player: Shuffle mode can bring some interesting songs together, particularly if you have eclectic tastes. This week I listened to
A Mighty Fortress is our God , performed by GLAD (a Christian acappella group – not the antidefamation alliance group – which has 2 A’s) – and Happiness is a Warm Gun, by the Beatles. Definitely an odd pairing, but the musical transition was remarkable.

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Still Reading: A few weeks ago, I commented that I had started The Monuments Men, in anticipation of the movie release. As typical for me, I have slowed down the reading…and the book remains rather dry, but apparently the movie reviews are saying similar things about the film.

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Writing:
This week, I submitted an essay to an essay contest. It was a personal challenge to see if I could put something coherent together in a short period (a week) that wasn’t in iambic pentameter or filled with rhymes and near rhymes. We’ll see how that goes. Announcement of finalists aren’t made until May. Until that time…

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Thanks again for getting me over the 1000 hump. Hopefully 2000 won’t take 3 years.

bonded

a yawn inside a swirly snowy globe shaken,
then stared upon,
watchful of how the plastic snowflakes
settle in among the quilted covers,
some together, lovers;
others left alone asleep
when winter plunders, slows and crawls.

Seemingly coerced to follow
in the fleeting moments
of traveled icy squalls,
gloom hears a single sigh that calls.
Far below caressing snow,
undermining bitter loneliness,
a beauty-green that sleeps, a wondrous seed:
a genesis to one day rise, accede
with a petal, rediscovered in the spring.
and myths are bonded, converging so-
and make your garden grow.

ffslomo-snowglobe-112712-09[1]

twelve

I sat down to write and assess a poem of great
inspiration and importance, and when I stopped
I counted all the syllables and found that most
or twelve of them were simple prepositions or
articles, and I relied upon them to string
together phrases, much like threading popcorn or
construction paper chains, and putting a green one
in every twelfth link (so I know how many there
are); this could apply to knitted scarves that could go
on and on and on forever. But then how could
someone even use a scarf that was twenty-four
miles long (a distance that’s really arbitrary).

Continuing, I found myself too obsessed with
the structure and detail of it, (the poem) lacking
any sense of pull with the “normal” sentiments that
inspire: sun, moon, stars, ponds, anyone and no one,
love and death on diverging roads, alas music
not even present and accounted for in this
catenation. Such admiration I hold for
them who check and recheck the number of items
from sun up to sun round in continued amounts,
like counting the grains of sand at the oceanside,
which seems different on each day, but really not,
and you wonder if anyone would notice thirteen.

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This was an experiment in both stream-of-consciousness and attempting to maintain a structural theme of sorts. Also, just some blathering…Creativity should be nutured. Incidentally, I looked up at one point while typing, and WordPress had saved an interim version at 12:12 PM…Oh to have finished this at that point. Thanks for reading.

Etude triste

when you love her,
and practice different words
between the silences,
ascending in chromatic notes
to tempt her fortress
until the muscles betray the bones.

yet, lamps smother their song
and I hear a mandolin
when she says,
“it’s too soon for another forever,”
words that are too soon splayed
for another poem.

What I was thinking…better metaphors

I thought it would be fun useful cathartic to summarize a collection of thoughts/experiences that occupied my brain the last couple of days. brain

What I’m thinking –
My wife and I listen to entertainment/talk show radio on our commute to and from work. We get a dose of top 40 music and sophomoric humor in the morning, and sports talk radio in the evening. I was actually paying attention to music one morning, when I heard Katy Perry’s Dark Horse featuring rapper Juicy J…specifically this lyrical gem in the rap section:

She’s a beast
I call her Karma (come back)
She eats your heart out
Like Jeffrey Dahmer (woo)

Really?

Now….I am, admittedly, not a big fan of rap, though I understand the phenomenon and the urban appeal. It is a form of poetry(rhyming, meter, metaphors, alliteration, etc). I admire certain artists’ ability in rap…both in writing and performing (eminem comes immediately to mind).

But, not only is this example in poor taste…it is just lazy writing. To trivialize a serial murderer in a song lyric about addictive love/lust…surely someone could have come up with something better than that. I’m not a lyricist, and I don’t make a living as a recording artist, but I hope that we as a society don’t reach the callous point of integrating our worst examples of humanity into pop culture throwaway lines…like that.

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What I’m reading –

I think I’ve mentioned that I’m a slow book finisher, and I tend to have several books going at once (probably around 5 right now, at last count). Most recently, I just started Robert Edsel’s The Monuments Men , in anticipation of the movie that going to be released soon. That one has me intrigued, particularly because the book is very factual and dry at this point, like a history lesson. It certainly has the makings of a great war time adventure story, and I will finish it. Incidentally, the last two books I finished were Graham Moore’s The Sherlockian and Dan Brown’s Inferno, both of which I finished within a couple of weeks of each other last summer/fall, which is some kind of record for me.
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Things that I’m writingwriting

I’m writing alot these days for work: technical reports of various thus and so. I enjoy putting together different ways to discuss trends in data, make predictions, and discuss what observations/results mean or extrapolate to other conditions. It is not surprising then, that for poetry, my inspiration comes mostly from observation. My most recent poem vignette is the result of me staring at a picture on my wall (of twirled poppies) that is located next to a window (where, conveniently this time of year, I can see winter/snow). The symbolism in this poem is not lost on me, as poppies symbolize sleep, peace, or death; these are beautiful and yet, being stuck in a frame, they appear to twist and strain to see the bitter cold and and peace of snowfall.

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Things that I wonder aboutcogs

I like statistics and trend relationships. The stats functions here on WordPress tell me something about my readership.
1. Someone in India really likes my poem, Respite, I get a hit from India every couple of days. Whoever you are, thank you for visiting…let me know what you like about the poem.
2. I don’t get many visitors for non-poetry posts. But, I will continue to write things as I feel inspired to.
3. NanoWriMo 2013 really boosted my readership, coinciding with Freshly Pressed, but I don’t think many of them returned after last April/May.
4. I get the highest hit rate when I write romantic or stylistic Romantic poetry. My take is that people like poetry that makes them feel good. But, still, I get very few actual comments (I’ll harp on that some more).

Thanks for visiting. And if you happen to write song lyrics, insist on better metaphors.