A Sonnet for the Coming Storm

viii.

Someone hurt her, I think. It doesn't show,
But it shows, especially when it rains,
And sitting by the light of the window
She feels the drops run down her windowpane.
That was her second marriage she told me
Though I didn't ask. That was all she said.
And she smiles as though she means it, mostly,
I smile back, with no words spoken. Instead
I could be an old sweater, to her,
Anyone warm and obliging would do.
Flattered, I suppose, it's me she'd prefer
Never certain if it really is true.
What a pathetic, meager need is this
That for its own sake its reasons persist.

Tags: sonnet, poetry

A Sonnet of Remembrance

vii.

She came from Michigan, East Lansing.
Her father was a professor out there.
I was young and she was young and fancy-
free were we. She loved the wind in her hair,
Deep chestnut, and cut short all around,
Framing dark pools and delicate brown eyes,
Which like hot fires, ever gazing I found
So mysterious, sensous and wise.
'Twas like this, you see, when first came to me
The darkness which even now I'm stricken.
To her whom I'd never wish misery
Her sweet joy it did strangle and sicken.
And so from here to a big college town
she was gone, and in the darkness I drowned.

Tags: poetry, sonnet

A Sonnet a Day, ...

vi.

For not one waking moment did I see
The blowing wind gasp in desperation,
Nor the sun, bleak, long-shadowed and empty
Returning lifeless to its creation.
Parsimonious and dull was the light
On that day, which by its nature did slow
And reduce all joy to silver of night
Absorbing hope to the darkeness below.
How scant a scene, oh most souless of days!
Which but for a touch could scarce break a smile.
Which found in my heart dispirit, dismay
And no purpose but this mile after mile.
Then when living could no longer abide,
Stopped me here on the day that I died.

Another (Depressing) Sonnet for the New Year

v.

What beauty e'er could grow from such a weed
By such a mean and impoverished start
As would poison kindness, and with its seed
Draw vile succor from her peaceful heart.
What sprouts from this love, this meager garden?
Dandelion, crabgrass, brown slimy worm?
Sunbaked earth growing cracked as it hardens
Love barren, base as the lowest of germs.
I have tilled this ground and sowed in this field
And longingly gazed its infertile soil
And reaped from it such an unfruitful yield
As to grow lonely and spent of the toil.
Where she goes, now, is not mine to follow
My roots have grown deep and heart grown hollow.

More Bad Poetry for the Holidays

The View From Eagle Rock

From the top of the trail where the rocks piled high
I looked down from the peak at the valley and sky
Where hanging by strings and sadly my way
Clouds endless as oceans came wave after wave

By what living bond am I bound to this scene
Of weather and freeways and patches of green
Withdrawn to my perch, with such baleful persistence
Fated to a world ever off in the distance

Tags: eagle rock, poetry, verse

A New Sonnet for the Holidays

iv.

And you will marry someday, I suppose,
To a good rich soil. From the warming sun
Of pure fortune will your new garden grow
Unburdened, and not by hard want undone.
And on Christmas morning children will squeal
And sparkle like glitter and blinking lights.
The world will complete you, as warmly you feel
Arms that caress you through blackness of night.
In the inevitable balance of
Mother and child, will you become newly
Emerged, and in this most perfect of love
Grow restless, forever to love's duty.
And you will marry someday, unspoken,
To the thousands of hearts you have broken.

A Sonnet for the Holidays

iii.

I have bought my peace, my spirit the coin
To which dead purpose and blank effort spent
Have achieved no other than but to rejoin
Ageless meander and my days misspent.
I remember you, yet am forgotten
As a passing car or faceless stranger,
And through passion born but misbegotten
I cannot forget nor face the danger,
Nor by forgetfulness lose the vision
Of the beauty once seen and lost to desire
And cautionsness. Earning cold derision
That extinguishes all that hope had inspired,
Bleed me now and take from me that I am.
What's passion but the measure of the man.

Tags: poetry, sonnet

I Scare Myself

Some people may be wishing for a white Christmas, but I'm a California boy and I like my Christmas' bright and sunny. None of this gloomy weather for me, thanks. This is an El Nino year so the weather people were all predicting heavy rains and above average temperatures this winter, so, of course, it's December and we're freezing our butts off under clear skies. I'll take it, though. Just give me more of that California sun.

Other than that there's not much happening around here. Guess I'll just open up the ol' miscellaneous file.

The big news is that tomorrow night Tan Dun's opera "The First Emperor" makes its world premier at the Met, and we Sirius subscribers will be able to tune in to the live broadcast. That's pretty cool, and Placido Domingo will be singing the title role. I guess it just proves that tech isn't just for tech geeks anymore. The new digital world has something for everybody - tech geeks and opera geeks as well.

Speaking of opera, I just added "L'Amour de loin" by Kaija Saariaho to my DVD collection. Actually, to call it an opera is a little of a misnomer; it's more of a meditation. The score, however, is fantastic. I didn't really understand it the first time I watched it, but the second time through I became mesmerized by the primal, dreamlike mood of the piece. It might not be to everyone's taste, but Saariaho is really trying to do something different here and I admire her for that. I particularly like how she ladles great big gobs of sound on to the canvas to create a dense, rich, and yet almost monotone atmosphere. Interesting stuff.

Gerald Finley stars as the poet Jaufre Rudel, and his rich baritone is more than up to the task. I think he overdoes it a little as an actor, but his singing is superb. Dawn Upshaw plays Clemence, the soprano lead, and mezzo Monica Groop sings the role of the pilgrim. Again, both superb singers. The story itself concerns Rudel's love for a woman who lives far away ("L'amour de loin' or "Love from afar") and whom he can never have, but we won't go into that here. Great DVD for anyone in the mood for something downbeat and different, and I just ordered a CD from Amazon to hear some more of her music. The CD has Esa-Pekka Salonen, Gidon Kremer and Dawn Upshaw all performing some of her pieces. Pretty good bunch of players, and I hear she's working with Emanuel Ax on something new as well. Can't wait to hear it.

Let's see what else is happening. Oh yeah, there was a story on the news that said that doing mental exercises can help the elderly slow memory loss. The actual study was very limited in its focus so it's not exactly clear which exercises can be beneficial, but the general principle seems to make sense to me. You gotta keep those neurons firing if you want them to stay healthy, and that's why a little blogging every now and then should be an important part of your weekly routine. Even if you have nothing to say (ahem...) at least you're thinking.

And if blogging's not your thing, then why not write a sonnet.

(Note: I Scare Myself was a song from the early 70's by Dan Hicks and His Hot Licks, but when I googled it I found that Thomas Dolby is being listed as the author. That ain't right, and it just goes to show that you should never believe what you read on the internet)

Everybody Loves a Sonnet

ii.

How perfect the stain and by what strange means
False circumstance did I selfish conspire.
By all manner of ruse and happenings
As to defeat my most heartfelt desire.
Answer me thus and by action explain
What by words I'm unable to discern,
That for love my heart did mocking disdain
As to extinguish the flame that it burned.
We're a curious breed this rabble of men
That we are smitten yet still cannot see,
A time once come will not yet come again
And that all love comes but from constancy.
A stranger to love will know only this
That for a fool there awaits Tosca's kiss

Tags: poetry, sonnet

A Winter Sonnet

i.

That you are gone. And by what means am I
Diminished. A tongue by silence betrayed
And treason, by its own muteness did lie
That reason should not its heart obey.
Had I believed you perfect then perhaps
By earnestness of thought make excuses
But through false emotions let judgement lapse
To suffer indifferent abuses
Now a lingering sweetness of your air
Betrays in me unfathomable void
Black darkness consumes all hunger and care
And in consciousness is reason destroyed
Though dreams do not come and no light is shown
To dream of you is to dream all alone

Tags: poetry, sonnet

Persistence is the Mark of a Bad Poet

Myself Unknown To Melanie

I spoke and only sorrow heard
Words, like fresh wounds, broken
Bled

Melanie
Tended, managed
Each entrance and exit guarded
Displayed
Like a rare gem or precious art
Priceless and entombed

Was there an unplanned moment
An unscheduled smile?
From Melanie
Felt
Untouched
Precious

To what dark face do you give your pledge
Tonight, Melanie
What breast is it warms your cheek
What confidences do you speak
Unknown, even dreams can wound
Scarred and broken hearts

The Universe in balance
Each planet its orbit
Each moment its purpose
Why then sorrow?

Tags: poetry, free verse

'Cause Somethings Can Only Be Expressed With Bad Poetry

Alum Rock Park December 2006

I am not the swirling cold
rushing frightened, scraping leaves

I am not the worried tree
naked, anxious and despairing of warmth

Neither abandoned playground nor
friendless swing

Nor lonely bench nor
dormant cabin am I

I am the being, sentient
Lord of Nature

Time is indifferent to me
My light recedes and all my days are strangers

When winter falls, it falls on me

Tags: poetry, free verse

As you've no doubt heard, James Kim, the CNET editor and podcaster, was found today in a wilderness area west of Grant's Pass Oregon. I know it's been all over the news and the blogosphere, and I'm sure we'll here more than a few of his fellow podcasters offering their thoughts over the coming days and weeks, so I won't go into the details here.

It's a funny thing about the whole "grassroots" nature of podcasting, but, as corny as it sounds, podcasters really do feel like part of a family. I didn't know James Kim at all other than through his podcasts and the work he did for the old TechTV network, and yet news of his passing really came as a blow today - almost like a personal loss rather than the mere passing of a stranger.

I've listened to his MP3insider podcasts since they first start airing earlier this year, and I always found him to be thoroughly professional and passionate about technology. Just a real solid, hardworking guy. It will be up to his friends and colleagues and the people who really knew him to talk his personal side, but I'm sure there will be many testomonials and rememberances in the days to come.

For me, though, it's the podcasts that I'll remember. Like I said, the thing about podcasting is that it is so personal. It's not like some big corporate machine feeding sound into your head all day. Podcasters, for the most part, are people like you and me. That's why it hits home so hard. I feel like James Kim wasn't just someone I knew about, but someone I really knew and will greatly miss.

I don't know. I really didn't want this post to be a downer. The tech community just got some really tough news today.

My condolensces to the Kim family. His loss will be felt not only by his family and friends, but by the entire tech community. I'm sure there are prayers being said around the world tonight, and my heart especially goes out to his wife Kati and two young children.


What's in the Letter Bag

Believe it or not, I do receive emails from time to time from some poor lost soul who happens to wander into this little blog of mine. Most of it is spam, a lot of spam actually, but I have good filters and only a few trickle through. Other than the spam I get some comments, usually short and sometimes funny, but rarely thoughtful and informative. However I got this one a couple of months ago that I've wanted to print for sometime now but haven't gotten around to it. It concerns a particularly funny post I made last March (yuk, yuk, yuk) disparaging the parenting skills of a couple of podcasters I'd heard. Oh, it was hilarious, and if you want to read it you can find it here. I wouldn't bother, though. Just read this email I got last October from one of the parents mentioned.

---------------------------------

Hi Tony,

I just stumbled upon your blog entry about the Rosary Army Podcast from last March 9 (http://tmyers2002.blogspot.com/2006/03/old-dogs-and-new-tricks-thank-you.html ) and thought I would provide a quick note of explanation about the play therapist we took our boys to.

You may have missed earlier episodes where we discussed the fact that 2 of our 4 boys have been clinically diagnosed with different levels of high functioning autism. Our oldest son (almost 9) has what is called Asperger's Syndrome. It is a form of autism where he becomes very focused in an almost obsessive way on certain subjects for long periods of time. For example, he has gone through periods (months-long and sometimes years-long) of absolute preoccupation over trains, birds of prey, and creating 3D sculptures out of paper and tape. Because of this intense focus, he often has severe problems relating to other children and sometimes feels unreasonably threatened when pushed out of his comfort zone. He overreacts to things that kids not on the autistic spectrum wouldn't even notice.

Our four year old exhibits even more classic autistic tendencies. To him, if his two-year-old brother simply removes one of his toys from the room, the 4-year-old perceives that as an actual physical attack. Did you ever see Rain Main where Tom Cruise tried to get Dustin Hoffman to board an airplane and Dustin Hoffman completely lost it? That's what happens with our four-year-old.

Initially, my wife and I tried to homeschool our children. Unfortunately, we were unaware of their autistic natures and after two years or complete frustration, we sought out evaluations from Emory University's Autism Center. They confirmed what we were beginning to suspect, and Emory University encouraged us to place the children in regular school so that they could be exposed to the more socialization skills, which are what kids with autism severely lack. As a part of the making sure that school would be successful for our oldest son, the school recommended the play therapy course to better help our sons work with others. Additionally, because two of our boys have autism, the other two without autism are often given less attention. By working with a therapist, we were able to find a better way for our family to work together.

I hope this provides additional insight as to why we went this route, and what benefit we hoped to receive from such therapy. We do not always go into great detail on our podcast, but when I discovered decisions made by my family being discussed on a stranger's blog, I felt it best to clarify.

Pax Christi,
Greg Willits - Rosary Army
www.RosaryArmy.com
Make Them. Pray Them. Give Them Away.
Podcast Feed - http://feeds.feedburner.com/rosaryarmy

---------------------------------

Thanks Greg. Somehow I don't feel so funny anymore.

(Maybe for the next Letter Bag I'll just post some spam. Hey, want to know how to get your college degree in just 4 weeks!)

Playing the Electric Violin on Desolation Row

Hilary Hahn came to town today. Well, not my town, exactly, but pretty close. She made an appearance down in the Haight in San Francisco, about the last place you'd expect to hear classical music - especially classical music of the caliber that she was putting out.

I realize that some of you out-of-towners probably still think of the Haight-Ashbury District as hippie heaven, no doubt recalling those halcyon days 40 years ago when the people were groovy and there was LSD and free love and flowers in her hair and flowers everywhere, and it's true that they did have a "summer of love" there once, but it was short-lived and a long time ago. Now I'd say the Haight is known more for it's street people and drug addicts than anything else.

Not being a drug addict myself, the Haight isn't a part of S.F. I get to very often, and tonight was quite an eye-opener for me. San Jose may have it's drunks and it's street toughs, but we don't have junkies and speed freaks hanging out on street corners and hustling up passers-by for spare change. I met quite a few of those tonight, and I know you find desperate people in most big cities, but not so much in San Jose (or maybe I'm just not hanging out in the right places.)

Anyways, I'm not one to judge. Well, no, that's not true. I judge all the time; I think everybody does. Maybe I should say I'm not one to pass judgement, and I certainly don't have all the answers to the world's problems

So there I was down in the Haight at a place called Amoeba Records, and right around 7 o'clock or so Hilary Hahn showed up to play a little recital. She played some Bach and some Paganini and some Spohr (which she not only played but sang as well!) and some Schubert (I think) and some Ysaye to finish things off. Wonderful stuff, folks, and if you were in the City last night and didn't make it out to Amoeba Records then you missed hearing one of the world's truly gifted musicians. That's not hyperbole either - just read the reviews.

What's most amazing of all, though, is just how young she is. It seems like she's been making CD's forever and yet when she got out on that little stage she seemed so, well...young. Frankly, it's a little disheartening to see someone so accomplished at such a young age. Makes me feel like "what have I been doing with my life all these years?", and at the same time hoping that she'll never grow into a geezer like most of the folks in her audience tonight. Yeah, I know we all get older, but may she stay forever young. (I seem to be quoting a lot of Dylan tonight.) All in all it's been kind of a bittersweet night for me.

Oh well, one last little sidenote. After the mini-recital HH was off to play a gig with the rock band And You Will Know Us By The Trail of The Dead, and tomorrow she'll be playing Korngold with the SF Symphony (no word yet if she'll be singing at that show, although the "Marietta's Lied" from Die Tote und Stadt is quite lovely). She's kickin' it in the Haight one minute, then rockin' out the next, and then wowing the crowds at Davies Symphony Hall the next.

I tell you, that girl's got this town wired.

Tags: hilary, hahn, amoeba records, haight