(no subject)
A long time ago, I started a journal for Vanessa, and began to fill it with poetry that described my thoughts on our relationship, and how I felt about her. I made this decision because: a. It's cheap, money-wise at least, and b. I owe her something sweet and sentimental every once and a while, since she puts up with my crap all of the time. I promised to have it finished by her birthday (May 16)...........................I am reminded of the story of Johann Strauss's "Radetsky March." He was told by his publisher that they wanted him to present a march for a Royal banquet in a year. Two nights before the banquet, he remembered suddenly his obligation, giving him one night to right a march, and another day to rehearse it with the ensemble he would be conducting. Oops. My situation is a little better, but I am just barely started and have between 90 and 100 pages of journal to fill in about five weeks. Crap. My goal is to post one poem a day until "Oh crap, I have to turn this assignment in" day. I welcome any critiques, positive or negative, but know before hand that if you don't like it I probably will tell you to blow it out your ears. No, but seriously. Here is my first entry. I am basing this rather long poem on Gustav Holst's "First Suite in Eb" and his "Second Suite in F." Here is stanza one of part one. Like it or die.
Suite
I.
Who could have known that when we met
We would have come to this point,
So unwittingly, yet blissfully, drawn together?
Could any God have intervened, attempting to
Make right in a world of fear?
The only blessed good we do is for ourselves,
Beautifying each others' world,
Constantly shining light in the darkened
Areas of each others lives;
No, we only help each other.
We have each seen trouble, and have
Both had to sacrifice for the other,
And life makes no promises to make things
Easier for us. Can love, as fabled,
Conquer all that disrupts its flow?
I see these obstructions as smooth pebbles
In a rushing stream:
They have even less influence on
Its immutable flow.
I have faith in only one thing,
Not god, not faith, but we.
Through life we march, always together:
On at present. On the morrow.
Onward to our destined arrival.
Hmmm. I need practice at this poetry thing. That's okay, though. If your familiar with the Chaconne that this stanza is based on, it flows a little better.
- Manus celer dei -
Suite
I.
Who could have known that when we met
We would have come to this point,
So unwittingly, yet blissfully, drawn together?
Could any God have intervened, attempting to
Make right in a world of fear?
The only blessed good we do is for ourselves,
Beautifying each others' world,
Constantly shining light in the darkened
Areas of each others lives;
No, we only help each other.
We have each seen trouble, and have
Both had to sacrifice for the other,
And life makes no promises to make things
Easier for us. Can love, as fabled,
Conquer all that disrupts its flow?
I see these obstructions as smooth pebbles
In a rushing stream:
They have even less influence on
Its immutable flow.
I have faith in only one thing,
Not god, not faith, but we.
Through life we march, always together:
On at present. On the morrow.
Onward to our destined arrival.
Hmmm. I need practice at this poetry thing. That's okay, though. If your familiar with the Chaconne that this stanza is based on, it flows a little better.
- Manus celer dei -