Peace Amid a Whirlwind

My brain is racing,

Swirling like a hurricane at sea,

And ships that sail upon the waves

Are battered by the winds that buffet me.

But hidden in the chaos

Cascading round the bounds I thought I knew,

A calming breeze is blowing, tracing

Space that fills the eye, deep breaths of you.

 

Things have been pretty hectic recently. I've been traveling a lot for work, and even without that, we've been very busy. It sometimes feels like all these different tasks and responsibilities swirl around like a whirlwind. The trick - which is difficult to achieve, of course - seems to be to find some peace within oneself, and to use that to keep everything in perspective.

A Twilight Catch

When the daylight starts its fading,

And the partly cloudy sky, from blue to gray

Is changing and anticipating

The ending of the time in which we stay,

 

Through the air a ball is flying,

Spinning white with blurring threads of red

Like pinkish wisps of cloud defying

Darkness where the night begins to spread.

 

Two figures stand apart but not alone,

Connected by the ball between them passing.

Remembered disagreements both have known

Dissolve in evening’s summer air amassing.

 

Such moments missed throughout the years are fleeting

Save when fields of dreams enchant a meeting.

 

I watched the movie Field of Dreams recently, and the very last scene always gets to me, with the father and son playing catch. There's such a buildup throughout the movie, with the son talking about remembered grievances and missed opportunities with his father. It all fades away in that final, simple act, when they get to meet again, and he says, "Hey, Dad, you want to have a catch?" I started writing this poem the same evening.

Two Faces

Some pebbles have two faces

With one side rough and ragged,

The other smoothed with every jagged

Edge worn down by fortune’s paces

Over time.

But still they climb

The tides as one

With two perspectives always spun

On everything the world brings,

Whether coal or diamond rings.

The two see different sides of spaces.

One looks above, the other under,

Yet both still see some wonder,

If only gleaned in traces.

 

This is my last post about the new book. Its fourth and final section is called Where They Cross. "They" refers back to life and loss, the focal areas of the first two sections, and the theme of this final section concerns how wonder can be found in both our happy and our heartbreaking experiences. I think this poem, which appears early in the section, may be the one that makes this point most directly.

 

Like Pebbles Cast Upon an Endless Shore

Each pebble cast upon the endless shore

Is etched with traces of the ancient tides.

Beneath its tiny surface shell is more

Than what is shown.

Each stone a deeper story hides.

 

Last week, I shared something about the second section of my new book. The third of the four sections is called And Pebbles on the Shoreline. This section is less about a specific theme, and more about trying to convey an idea as concisely as possible. So, all of the poems in this section are quite short. The poem above is the first one in the section, and it introduces what I think is an essential idea for all the poems that follow - each one suggests a deeper (and longer) story hidden beneath the surface.

The Undiscovered Island

There is an island

Forever just beyond horizon’s ledge

Where all that’s violent

Surrenders to the peace at water’s edge,

And when you pass away

You’ll walk the bridge that leads you to its shores

Though no one here can say

What dreams and futures wait within its stores,

But when I listen to the sparkling sea,

Sweet symphonies of you will come to me.

 

Last week, I shared something on the first section of my new book. The second section is called And Loss. It concentrates on multiple forms of loss, focusing most on transitions from life to death but also considering other types of loss such as environmental destruction and degradation. This poem imagines that transition from life to death as a journey across the sea, to an island where all is peaceful, and where memories drift back to those still living.

First Steps Away

To see her run and jump and fall

And hone her skills

Until she stands before you, tall

And ready to begin

To scale the closest rolling hills

And feel the warmth upon her skin

Where sunlight floods the sky,

And then to seek for greater thrills

Beyond the paths that wander nigh

Toward faraway vast mountain-scapes

Where water falls unbroken, spills

Upon the rocks in frothy shapes,

And makes her dreams come true,

Her searching spirit, soaring, fills

Your watchful eyes with what her future holds in view.

 

This is my third post about the new book. The book's first major section is called Of Life, and focuses on the patterns of the lives we lead, as well as how those patterns have changed as a result of the pandemic, and how they can vary in different parts of the world. This poem is the first one that appears in this section. It explores the experience of watching a child come of age, and knowing that she may, someday, travel far away.

 

 

Embodying Emotion

The words do not come cheaply

When writing of emotion.

The poet feels it deeply,

Embodying each notion,

Then lining up some rhymes that fit

The currents of its ocean.

 

Projection, make-believe, or empathy,

I’m not sure what to make of it,

But each imagined life that comes to me,

Regardless, teaches me a bit

Of joys and pains and wonder,

And I must hold them deeply
To heal or rend my heart asunder,

But the price is felt less steeply

If the words reach someone, somewhere

And embody depths for them to share.

 

This is my second post about the new book. The book is split into four major sections with different themes. Before the first section, though, there are a few introductory poems about the act of composing poetry - or at least my own approach to it. This poem is one of those, and it focuses on the need to really feel the emotions being expressed in the words, even (perhaps especially) if those emotions are associated with a person different from the poet.