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Winter Meditation
Another winter
on the fringe
of a lifetime.
Another winter
wielding blades of wind
that could slit hearts
and cold that
could break bones
and God somewhere in
all this despite
the drama
I curse and embrace.
On the other
side of sorrow
a chatty and giddy
Earth waits.
Come back to me,
green-hearted counselor,
pharmacy of sound,
my leafy shrine
where miracles
are soft
and mostly
undiscovered.
If the same God
that concocted forests
with the scent of
moss and espresso—
the scent of home—
still lives
then spring never left
and I'm back at the
beginning with the
turn of a thought,
with a universe in
my pocket and
all things outside
the mind's door . . .
Alive.
Shine with me,
slabs of new snow,
chains of ice,
shattered zodiac
piercing the vacuum
with the same stories
through new eyes.
Melt into
spirit and creation
as I climb the night . . .
loving past the fear
into the Kingdom,
warm in the
Fire within.
Patricia Joan Jones
response
wonderful wonderful
Thank you, dear poet, for
Thank you, dear poet, for your very uplifting feedback. It means so much.
not even a flake of snow this winter
Enjoyed this a lot. Living on a cold windy hill, I too yearn for green life to return. Too many browns and greys, and too many drabby lingering mud puddles. And we haven’t even had a flake of snow yet to make it pretty. I’m ready for some colour and warm sun.
Thank you for relating to
Thank you for relating to this and expressing how many of us are feeling. Always honored by your presence.
That Patriciajj is a great
That Patriciajj is a great Poet is beyond doubt and debate. But who is she like? Into what poeitc constellaton does she best fit? Is she like Eliot? Stevens? Vergil? Basho? One ponders.
They tell me that when Petrarch invented the sonnet---with two stanzas---the second stanza was supposed to "swerve" from the first by modifying its content. They tell me that classic Haikus also featue a kind of "swerve" in the third and last line. These are, of course, structured poems; but Patricia's poem also demonstrates a swerve although its form is free verse (a form that can, paradoxicsally, demand far more verbal skill than sonnets or Haiku). This poem's swerve is in the single line, "alive," and that line is also the exact center of the poem's center of gravity which are the stanzas preceding and following "alive."
In the final two stanzas, she also gives us the process of Poetry. Poetry permeates the spirit and the creation, and becomes both of them---the way water permeates both the sky and the earth, becoming clouds and living things; or becoming great flows of water that, given enough time, can convert a small shallow channel into the Grand Canyon. And, when I sip that tall glass (paper cups don't do it for me) of distilled or sparkling water, with a thick twist of lemon, that water will enter my cells; in that way, it becomes me. This is what Poetry does with the spirit and the creation.
When the poem begins, we are in the midst of the drama that, the Poet admits, she curses. (Here I am reminded of Stevens' poem, "Chaos In Motion . . ."; but when we enter the poem's gravitational center and emerge on its other side, we are now prepared to see the melting into spirit and creation. Because, to use another metaphor, we can be like ice, which can feature some very sharp, hurtful edges: sharp enough to injure a finger, say, or slice the Titanic right along the horizontal axis. The finger bleeds and the great ship---three years and two days in the building---sinks like a common stone in a couple of hours. But when the ice has melted, it can permeate---and be permeated by---spirit and creation.
This is the process and purpose of Poetry that Patriciajj depicts and demonstrates for her readers. And she uses ordinary items---moss, espresso---to depict that process; which, to me, is the key to identifying which Poetic style hers most resembles and aligns with.
I think, when you come right down to it, Patricia's poetic alignment, the constellation her poetc stars belong do, is that of the great Poet of the New Testament, the Apostle Saint John---whose Gospel, first letter, and Apocalypse are demonstrations of deeply poetic nature that God inspired, as David's poetic nature was similarly inspired in the Old Testament. They tell me that the Celtic poets of antiquity were inspired by John (as the Poets of continental Europe were inspired by Matthew); and of that historic nature and inspiration, Patriciajj partakes.
And partakes with stellar success.
J-Called
Your description of what
Your description of what poetry does with the spirit was a precise hit and a breathtaking one at that.
I'm always indescribably honored and humbled by your rare ability to tunnel to the core of a poem (not just mine but other poets blessed to have an audience with you) and find its center of gravity and its very essence. Everything you so brilliantly, so generously, describe was exactly what I was going for. What a blissful affirmation. Thank you!
Your unwavering support and priceless encouragement makes all the difference to me and everyone who is honored to know you on this site.
The inspiration behind any of
The inspiration behind any of my comments on your poems comes from the poems themselves. To bask in the radiance that each of your poems provides is a most spiritual experience, and that brings the words out in a gush.
J-Called
That made my day. Thank you!
That made my day. Thank you!
Winter War Cry
The phrases you use to describe
Life in igloos are perfectly on point
You are a creative genius
When it comes to word perfomances
This poem turned me into
A sculpture of ice crystals and also
Lit a warm flame deep within
bananas are the perfect food
for prostitutes
Your comment struck me as the
Your comment struck me as the finest art and the most valuable encouragement. I simply can't thank you enough. YOU are the genius with an enchanted toolbox of language. I'm honored you stopped by.