Screenshot via: “This Was Never Poetry”
Yes it was.
So much so that I despaired the first time you vanished taking all your words with you. So very much so, I made myself afraid, after a time, to visit your site fearing it would once again be gone.
So much did you inspire and ignite my imagination.
…two shorter, much, much older works into a sonnet, has given me another idea, as such things often do. Therefore I decided to revisit the Coleridge ode/sonnet, with the (possibly ambitious) intention of flipping the rhymes to more ideal positions. So, one might call that “step three” in the process I seem to be leaning toward calling by the name “poetic fusion.” I have not done so yet, but whatever result I achieve, will appear tomorrow, the 17 of October. I do try not to do to much of this kind of repurposing of an existing post, because it does feel to be a little like cheating–even though quite often there is a fair bit of work involved.
…is, once again, a new work, written, albeit more directly this time, and not from memory, from two much, much older works. Both of these were two quatrains of Octameter. This was approximately the correct number of words and syllables to make a sonnet. 8 * 8 * 2 gives us 128 syllables. I kept the rhymes, although I moved them so they would ring with each other in a manner more true. Also Added a few more; so that, in all lines, there are three rhyming words, but sometimes there are four. Continue reading
I have tried
to describe to myself
how the experience is:
whether it is like
one of those nights
when I cannot sleep
and sit on my back steps
while silent snow falls,
or a walk
through spicy autumn woods,
or a summer night
when I sit
and listen to the cicadas
and watch the occasional meteor
streak across the sky….
…to have 70 out of 70 iambs in a sonnet, it really has an effect to flip to trochee’s for a few lines, three or four perhaps, and then back again. As in this one, Beginning with the line “Laughing,” the lines are flipped and then the rhythm flips back after the word “Triumph.” My goal was to have all iambs, but so much did I like the sound of the flip, I left it that way. I believe I may well use that method here and there and see what sounds I may wring out of the five petaled flower.
[…]
Regarding not her reach; or did the sound,
Laughing, delicate, from out a learner’s
Able hand–nimble, did her fingers bound,
Tripping lightly over octaves–earn herTriumph; with–crossing leagues of royal blue–
Iokean lips, though never history knew?
…to be one of those nights, as the saying goes. Tonight, I feel very much inclined to take the easy road, but the narrow gravel switchbacks with brittle crumbling edges seem to keep presenting themselves. Drafts keep piling up on top of my posts, spoiling my view of work I have already completed–vexing me at every turn.
…even single ones, that require so much thought, that it is far less painful to work on them a little at a time. Works such as this one take at least a few days of thinking upon. I would revisit the draft at least once per day, type a note or two, or a phrase I thought was usable. Anything that occurs between periods of sleep is always easier. It just comes together almost like magic all of a sudden. Continue reading
David Emeron: Sonnets 