Thursday, November 18, 2010

An Advent Sonnet (second draft)

Pale leaves cling fast to the wind-battered tree;
The autumn-craving flesh is deeply thrilled!
As dim as dreams, cloud-balked, the sun leaks through,
Spilling its feeble light upon the world.

The noise of cackling crows pierces the cold,
Presaging winter's nights of snow and ice:
November's stubborn flowers nipped and killed
By north-wind's stinging blast; skies gray as mice.

Some souls there are who watch for signs of grace,
Expecting love's fabled nativity
In a chilly and unfavorable place

Apparently unvisited by Him
Who makes all dying life rejoice anew:
Each human heart a cave in Bethlehem.

An Advent Sonnet (early draft)

(Dear Reader or Readers:  Be politely unsparing!  There's something not-quite-right about this poem, I suspect, but am standing too close to it to know precisely what it is.  It was, I should note, written just for practice' sake.)

Bleak leaves cling fast to the wind-battered tree;
This autumn weather thrills the sin-sick soul.
As dim as dreams, cloud-balked, the sun leaks through,
Spilling its feeble light upon the world.

The cackle of the crows pierces the cold
Presaging winter's stoic days (snow; ice;
November's stubborn flowers nipped and killed
By north-wind's stinging blast; skies gray as mice).

And yet some souls there are who watch for grace,
Expecting love's fabled nativity
In a chilly and unfavorable place

Apparently unvisited by Him
Who makes all dying life rejoice anew:
Each human heart a cave in Bethlehem.

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

Heather Greywolf answers my haiku

(i)


Perhaps it said "and ..."
Because it wanted to know
What would happen next!


(ii)


Leaves falling on me
Glad it is not the squirrels
They are heavier

Sunday, November 14, 2010

Two quasi-haiku-type poems

(i)

Thrown on the bed,
why is my belt
an ampersand?


(ii)

Aw, sweet! --
straight outta Cummings,
"a leaf falls ..."