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afternoon. playing with light, light and shadow, Nature, personal, poetry, rhyme, rhyming poetry, rhythm, writing
A notebook full of poetry I had worked on for years has disappeared. Vanished. Many of the poems I never copied into a word document. They may be lost forever. But several I know by heart, I’ve recited them so often. They are heavy with rhyme and rhythm, and I know that is why I remember them. The bards of long ago who sang their stories knew that we remember best verses that rhyme. Somehow our brains are made to carry these tunes in our swaying bodies. We feel them in our bones.
Here’s one I remember well, that I wrote when we were sailing, anchored in Bora Bora, of all places. It’s a “light” poem, pun intended. In fact, it was first entitled “Light Thoughts.” I’ve renamed it below, but reserve the right to switch it back. You never know.
I like it for its lightness. And I hesitate to share it for the same reason. It’s lightness, and its use of rhyme and rhythm, which serious poets seldom use today. For obvious reasons. Use of rhyme and rhythm seems too heavy-handed, too showy and childish, decidedly old-fashioned.
Serious poetry loses something when it rhymes. Alexander Pope and Shakespeare, and some of the other old masters could pull it off—-it was all the rage then. But now it sounds too much like greeting cards or the jingles you hear on TV to sell soap and cat litter. Or the picture books we read to children. The nursery rhymes we all grew up with, if we were lucky.
This poem could be found in a book of poetry for children. But it was written for adults. For me, to be more precise. And for others like me who see the world in a particular slant of light, and like to play with it.
Playing With Light
I like the slant of afternoon,
The shadows cut so clear,
Light lays down as if it’s found
A home on earth more pure.
I like the way each melting ray
Slides across the land,
To flow beneath the lowest leaf
And lift it in its hand.
The smallest stone is sudden grown,
A blade of grass stands tall.
The hills unwind one at a time
To dance before us all.
I like the way light likes to play
And catch me from behind,
Igniting hair with light so rare
It catapults the mind.
Yet when the light is laid so low
It tumbles from the earth,
And afternoon succumbs too soon
Mere embers on the hearth,
I find in night a keener light
To prick the bounds of thought.
Upon the spires of whirling stars
My reeling mind is caught.
paywindow7 said:
Speaking of rhythm and rhyme, I really enjoyed this one. It reminded me of one from back in another life, named “The Face Upon The Floor” by H. Antoine D’Arcy. One of my all time favorites.
deborahbrasket said:
Why thank you! I don’t know that poem, but I’m looking forward to reading it now. So glad you like it.
oawritingspoemspaintings said:
Oh! I remember when a very old recipe book I had written when I was fourteen years old disappeared, I was devastated!
We found it nearly two years after hidden in a forgotten corner… someone had put it there probably by mischief, non of my close ones 🙂 so I can relate to your story & hope it’ll end in a very happy ending!
The good side to it was that I appreciated its real value after that 😉
deborahbrasket said:
I keep thinking it has to turn up! It can’t walk away by itself. I’ll probably find it in some weird place–the refrigerator or something 🙂
oawritingspoemspaintings said:
🙂
sheetalsharma47 said:
🙂 reading this post reminded me of many sweet memories…thank you..
regards,
Sheetal
deborahbrasket said:
Thank you. That makes me happy. I’m glad you stopped by.
sheetalsharma47 said:
🙂
laura bruno lilly said:
Don’t know exactly why, but your poem reminds me of Emily Dickenson…
deborahbrasket said:
That’s the best compliment I’ve had! I love her poetry, and in fact it was influenced by her somewhat, the word “slant”, her “tell all the truth but tell it slant” is a line that means much to me.
Quanie Miller (@QuanieMiller) said:
I don’t know much about poetry but I enjoyed this. I’m amazed that you remembered it by heart! Fingers crossed for you finding your lost notebook.
deborahbrasket said:
Thank you, Quanie. I hope I find it too.
johnnycrabcakes said:
“Serious poetry loses something when it rhymes.”
Perhaps it’s more that we have lost something
of ourselves in losing the seriousness of rhyme.
The rhythm of the language does much to strengthen or dull the ring of the rhyme. Marianne Moore was one of my first loves in poetry and she mastered the subtle, often almost unnoticeable use of rhyme. Something that I try to emulate when and if I write in meter and rhyme. I both rhyme and not-rhyme, meter and not-meter, as the subject urges.
I think this poem is beautiful. The meter and rhyme act as appropriate vehicles for your vision.
Perhaps someday, people will consider un-metered, un-rhymed free-verse “too heavy-handed, too showy and childish, decidedly old-fashioned.”
I do not think your piece is any of those things.
deborahbrasket said:
Yes! That’s what I’m thinking too, that we have, as you put it “lost something of ourselves in losing the seriousness of rhyme.”
I appreciate those subtle, almost unnoticeable uses of rhyme to, as in Moore’s and others. And also much of the poetry I love has no rhyme at all. But there’s something about rhyme and rhythm that speaks to me, that my unconscious mind tends toward when I’m writing poetry, or at least some poetry. It is almost primal, and I think we’ve forgotten that, “we” meaning modern tastes, or most modern poets and critics writing today. I’d like to see it come back.
I’ve been musing on this for quite a while and will be writing more on this soon. But I’m so glad to hear what you have said. And I truly, truly love that you see the beauty I do in this poem. That may sound conceited. But I see the poetry I write, at least the ones I love most, as not really “mine”–more like something handed to me to polish and bring into being. And I see the poetry that I love that others have written in the same way–gifts that are “mine” as much as “theirs.”
Anyway, thank you so much for responding to this, leaving your comment.
johnnycrabcakes said:
Nothing conceited about it at all. I feel the same way about many of my pieces. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with knowing when you’re “on your game.” There’s a great interview of Robert Graves I just read on The Paris Review where he speaks of how the poem is already written and that poets are in that sense more like archaeologists, that writing poetry is more an act of discovery than one of creation. Without getting too “spiritual” about it, this idea really appeals to me. I think of poems having a life of their own and that we have to listen to them to discover what it is that they are telling us. I feel that I am really on to something when the poem’s voice is clear, even as I can be rather dull in figuring it out.
I look forward to your future posts on this.
peace–JCC
shadingnepenthe said:
Reblogged this on ShadingNepenthe and commented:
That poem :’)
deborahbrasket said:
Thank you for reblogging this!
shadingnepenthe said:
My condolences for your lost book. I know what it feels like to lose something you’ve penned down yourself. Do post more if you remember, it’ll be a treat. Cheers 🙂
susan staples said:
love this. It captures something I have loved to feel and surprised it is not a subject of more adoration. No problem with rhyme here.
deborahbrasket said:
Thank you! I’m so glad you like it. It means a lot 🙂
LB said:
Now see? I must be childlike … this poem suits me!
I do love the way you describe the light lifting up, unwinding, igniting, and tumbling.
Lovely!
deborahbrasket said:
I’m glad it suits you! Thank you so much.
Adah said:
I love it! I don’t think it sounds like a nursery rhyme at all, it sounds true and authentic and real. You use words beautifully. You describe the sun with perfect observation and genius mastery of words. this is the best poem I have read in a very long time. You really have a gift. I hope with all my heart you find your book, that must feel so disappointing and frustrating.
deborahbrasket said:
Thank you, Adah. That means so much to me!
micheleberger said:
Hi Deborah,
Sorry to hear about your notebook–could it be that someone needed to find it and feel refreshed by your language. Love this poem and all the ways you play with the qualities of light.
deborahbrasket said:
Thank you, Michelle. Fortunately I did copy off some of the poems into a work document, so at least I have those.
birdosan said:
Deborah, I am a painter and absolutely love the painting you show here by William Merrill Chase. It has brightened my day already. I also wanted to let you know that I’ve nominated you for the Wonderful Team Member Reader Award. It is a very unique award, among a pool of blogging awards, designed for people that you appreciate as both readers of your blog and bloggers in their own right. There are three posts concerning this award here: http://stephanierosebirdstudio.blogspot.com
All the best,
Stephanie Rose Bird
deborahbrasket said:
I am so glad you liked the painting–I take a lot of time to find just the right one to go with my posts. And your nomination–I’m truly honored and look forward to reading for about the award. Thank you so much.
Susan Scott said:
Thank you for this Deborah – it’s a beautiful poem, full of imagery and its lightness. The way it ends with ‘night’ is …. mmmm, I’m trying to find the right word … tender and poignant and brings in the opposite of light so well..
I came by you via Stephanie’s Studio and I’m glad I did. Congratulations on her nominating you.
Garden of Eden Blog
deborahbrasket said:
Thank you, Susan. Isn’t it great when we make connections through each other’s blogs?
Alex Hurst said:
Beautiful, Deborah. I wouldn’t worry about sounding “old-fashioned”… it’s a legacy style, and there’s nothing wrong with that. 🙂
deborahbrasket said:
Thank you, Alex, I appreciate that.
Joy Lenton said:
Oh I adore this poem, Deborah! It has a subtle rhythm and rhyme to me. Not sing-songy at all. Rather, it’s like the softly dancing and tumbling light itself you so beautifully convey. I’m so glad you linked back here from your current post. You truly do have a remarkable gift and way with words! I tend toward rhythm and rhyme far more than I intend. Maybe it’s because I devoured such poetry in my youth. These things seep into our bones somehow and frame the way we write. Though it does seem cooler to write freestyle and slant. I also love the constraint of a haiku or tanka for the succinctness it produces in my otherwise overloaded, verbose mind. 🙂 ❤
deborahbrasket said:
I am so glad you liked this poem ,and followed the link back to this page. I agree, the rhythm we grew up with as children reading nursery rhymes does seep into our bones and can color the way we write our own poetry. I haven’t tried writing haiku or tanka, but do love to read it and the way the form constrains the images, making them lean and sharp. Thank you for coming here and sharing your thoughts with me.