2013: A Morality Play

2013:

A Morality Play

If practice really does 

A perfect mastery make,

My wagon full of props

And I, mere mortal, win

Praises from the town.

Pride here on the straw

Sweeps his hat to take a bow.

Envy seethes deep inside the chest.

Even this is practice for the end:

Wipe the grease from my chin,

Mount the boards, proclaim aloud, 

Loud enough to wake

Sloth sleeping at the reins. 

Shout, "Final! Doom!"

Drive this one, clink and rattle

To the tomb.

Criminal Admits Her Guilt

Happy New Year, All! I wanted to write a New Year's poem and found myself falling into my natural way of writing, which I am certain grates on most modern readers' sensibilities. So, borrowing a form from Robert Herrick, who would die again if he knew it, and blaming Real Toads for the inspiration, here's my first poem, er apology, of 2013:



Criminal Admits Her Guilt
or
Vain Attempt to Write a New Year's Poem




The days, they fall away like dust,
Like stardust from my hand
That stains my palm with fiery ash,
Then scatters o'er the land...

No, wait;
I've nothing new to say,
Rehash
The same tired image, meter, rhyme...

I write the way I must;
The words, they fail? This is my crime.

New Years Day

New Year's Day


No one else astir
this dark, cold morn --
just the stars and me.
The thin drift of grey
flung across the blueblack sky
gives me a sense that
everything's in motion.
I'm almost dizzy,
looking up at these familiar friends.
They're the most eternal things I know,
keepers of all history.
And I, their small and silent witness,
breathe a prayer of thanks
before returning
to the warmth and light
inside my little home.

A New Year Blossoms

You, hope of early spring,

Ablaze upon the lifeless branch,

Bloom forth amidst the snow;

Extinguish the burning cold

And conquer the dark night

With your bright courage!

Raise your sweets to heaven,

Herald of the coming year;

Push back for us the past

With your strong hope,

That we, too, may rise again

And persevere anew.

The TFE has suggested that we light a candle for loved ones we have lost. I offer this poem as my candle in honor of those friends and loved ones whose lives made mine brighter with their sweet lights and whose spirits will always shine on for me, especially Grandma Jo, Donnie, and Uncle Sanford. The poem is both a prayer and an acclamation.

The plum blossom, one of few flowers that blooms in the snow, is a traditional sign of the New Year for the Chinese. The words on this scroll, part of an ancient poem, roughly translate: “The fragrant blossoms bloom, unaware of the cold winter.”

I wish for you a season filled with blossoms and a year of unending joy. Happy New Year and to Auld Lang Syne.

Thanks to the TFE and Dave of Pics and Poems for the inspiration, and to http://orientaloutpost.com for the image.