New Sonnets, all intended for Geralyn

Copperfox

Copperfox

Well-known member
______SONNET NUMBER ONE ABOUT GERALYN_______

The Jesus Movement of the Seventies,
In which your servant Copperfox took part,
Shook churches which had been too much at ease,
Inviting in the foolish and the smart.

I and my Mary met young Geralyn,
--About whom I withhold a few details,
Not meaning that she needs to hide some sin,
But just because she's traveled painful trails--

Was with us at old Faith Alliance Church,
God's forward base in Rockford, Illinois.
We took part in the complicated search
For ways to bless the orphaned girl or boy.

Each human life has meaning, lose or win;
I'll think of this while praising Geralyn.
 
To appreciate the "old fashioned" (a.k.a. skillfully written) form of the sonnet, you have to realize three things:

1) There is deliberate dramatic tension behind the struggle of the rigid formality against the wild, blythe emotions of the author, similar to the fight between human reason and emotion that complicates our major life choices.

2) When someone takes the trouble to adhere to the form and write something about you, that's an extremely flattering lavishing of attention.

3) The belief that everything should be just spontaneous and freeform underlies many of the evils that plague society.

The blank verse poet Walt Whitman who famously wrote "Leaves of Grass" once lectured at a college. After the lecture, one student whose fellows had touted as having "very deep" thoughts, was invited to audition his peace. Mr. Whitman listened patiently, then said, "Write that when you're ready. Till then, stick with that rhymey-dimey stuff."

It is great to spice up your everyday prose with rose scented vocabulary as long as you are elevating prose. But you lower poetry when you think rules only apply to other people. Rules should not be trampled upon, but creatively broken and only to achieve some greater purpose.

I say this as someone who has written his share of both major kinds of sonnets, the sonetta, blank verse, and freeform. People are astonished to see the footnotes of what relates to what in my freeform work being three times as long as the text itself. Test your pattern recognition skills on the assonances, alliteration, and allusions:

THE OLD CASTLE ON THE MOUNT

The sun lay low in the western sky,
its ruddy golden beams caressing the stone walls in a poignant lovers' parting.
Though smooth and Spartan in the ides of noon,
the blocks betray their character in the lengthening shadows.
A barricade of gold, they have seen ten thousand sunsets,
yet the magic is still there.

sun/sky lay/low ten/thousand sun/sets Vowel progression: uh/ay/oh/ih/ee/eh/ai
smooth/spartan ih/oo/ah/oh/

Shan't belabor the point.
 
SECOND SONNET
{note the change in rhyme scheme}

The members know my tales of Alipang,
An Asian orphan granted a new home.
He brought the Writing Club a change of tone,
With dialogue which bore G-rated slang.

The lovely Geralyn has shared with me
Adoption steps-- Korean in our case.
Her Emily was similar in face
To mine and Mary's daughter Annemarie.

We all were photographed upon my porch
In Rockford-- this before my Navy time;
But Geri's husband chose the moral crime
Of infidelity, and thence divorce.

Thus Geri ended up quite far from me,
And came back in my life just recently.
 
THE METER OF A SONNET FORBIDS TWO ACCENTED SYLLABLES FROM BEING NEXT TO EACH OTHER. IF YOU SAY MY DISTANT SWEETHEART'S FULL NAME, YOU'LL NOTICE THE RHYTHM DA-DA-DUM, DA-DUM. SO I'LL PLAY A TRICK WITH HER NAME.

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''
My ailing girlfriend, Rogers Geralyn,
Struck by lymphoma, went to get a port:
Not meaning SEA-port, it's to siphon in
The chemotherapy; her news was short.

I wish that she were here, like in Pink Floyd!
So short the time since we got back in touch;
By husband straying, one life was destroyed,
Yet even without this, she bore so much.

In Florida, far from Wood Nymph and me,
Mizzz Geralyn, with all the odds against,
Admits to feeling for me tenderly;
But I can only pray now for the best.

There's room for one more Colorado girl,
If God lets Geralyn stay in this world.
 
Fourth Sonnet for Geralyn will try a whole new rhyme scheme; try to keep up.


I spoke to her today by mobile phone.
Hope also spoke with her, exchanging news.
We heard about the chemo she infused;
I promised I would help her fight the blues.

She tried to keep distress out of her tone,
Yet worried ne by staying up so late.
Since she is naughty, I'll no longer wait,
But finish this, and hope it turns out great.

I'm old enough that late nights make me groan,
But still I'll try to please this lady brave.
Since I'm retired, and I don't have to shave,
I'll send my girl a figurative wave.

Symbolically she bears a heavy stone;
I'll try to make her feel not quite alone. <3 <3 <3 <3 <3
 
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We interrupt this collection of love-motivated sonnets for a haiku, _also_ motivated by love of Geralyn Rodgers.
If you're not familiar with Japanese haiku, all you need to know is their one requirement: SYLLABLES, 5-7-5.

I'm reminding God:
I buried two wives before.
Please let Geri live.
.........................................................

I MIGHT DO SOMETHING _HUMOROUS_ NEXT TIME, BECAUSE GERALYN LIKES HUMOR AS A RELIEF.
 
I saw the world of poetry step away from strict meter and rhyme to merely meter, then free verse.

Speculating one day, many decades ago, what might have happened if poetry stepped away from METER and kept the RHYME (situs reversus) I wrote something with an extremely complex internal rhyme scheme, alliteration, and assonance with a shape that you can't shoehorn into rhythmic speech. I hope the topic is pleasing to Geralyn, for it does hint at the spiritual. I call that form the Sonetta and it goes thusly:

AUTUMN LEAVES

Autumn leaves weave a tapestry of light
and shade, the hues of flame, to tame the
autumn chill. Their hurried stirrings lend
an animated manner to the glade, and they
possess a mystic power to bless one
hour with an all too evanescent thrill.

Too soon they are swept down by wind and
shower, when withered and spent they are
gathered to the earth. There, gaunt and
pale, they lay prone and glower who once in
green splendor knew no end of mirth
in the summer’s rosy power.

First forms the frost, then starts the
snow, and the mold and fungus come to
claim their spoil. But then warmth
returns, and the rootlets grow and the
rabbits and gophers resume their toil.
And the transformed leaves attain new birth.

-- John Burkitt
 
MASTER BADGER GOT AHEAD OF ME! HE SHOWED FREE VERSE DONE >>WELL!<< NOW I'LL SHOW YOU THE AMATEURISH TYPE:

Drops are dripping. Drips are dropping. \\ WATER IS WET! Wet, wet, moist, soaking, cold, yuck, ugh. \\ Did I hear a splash? Maybe I did; or did the splash hear me? \\ I want my towel! Not your towel, not Miss Telford's towel. Wring it out...... WAY out. \\ Out and about, never a doubt, stout as a scout who has gout. \\ WHEEE!
 
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You have inspired me, Copperfox....dangerous, that.

Elbow paranoia
Joint anxiety causing arms akimbo
At grossly inopportune moments
And you speak to me of God...

Deep, n'cest pas?
 
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