A new book to house this year's (and future years) NationalPoetryMonth's daily poems. |
I'm writing once again this year. This book is my special event place for thirty special poems. Here for National Poetry Month in 2018, I'm participating but life has not been kind in the last 15 months, so I'm not always in writing mode. |
Like death, writing an ode to cancer fills any normal soul with dread, doctor, sir … I do not beg to differ, I hate your diligent point of view. Pain and inevitability are lopsided answers. In a garden, tendrils of ivy prey on nooks and crannies sinking roots deep into brick and mortar. A decorative result comes about, though no purpose adds charm to surfaces in need of repair. This weave happens by accident, not gruesome forethought that traps a healthy flower in a grasping lair. Young tender fruit on trees seeks a protective height while roses and bougainvillea climb to dazzle the air like wisteria and vines that make wine, drunken pleasure to nurture good health and eyes that wander the horizon with a flair for soothing details that erase the mind of untidy thoughts that dare trouble a frail and weakened body tainted by this ill which merits no name spoken. No, it does not care. It does not care about mourning and cemeteries and all the people who have lost everything to share. No, it does not care that it decimates those left behind when death slips despair into each word of prayer. Qasida #3 "No, it won't let you forget" [2018.2.4...a] The Qasida is the ancestor of the ghazal, an ode poem originally written in couplets and structured into three distinct parts. Traditional Qasidas can be up to 100 couplets that commonly use aa or aa/bb/cc or xa rhymes and are woven with common threads, unlike the ghazal. Research is frustrating because it is a form not adopted by many English language poets and most of the authoritative literature is written in Arabic and the philosophical nature of its three parts seems difficult to impart. |