Silent poetry reading day?

[fpb]

Never heard of it before. Anyway, here is a sonnet I wrote a couple of years back:


What opens continents and seas to sight;
What turns the night of maybe into day;
What takes whatever's new and dark to light
And human spirits to the untrodden way;

What fuels the fire that makes what’s good and bold
What’s firm and strong and true and worthy of praise
Is not some miracle, or the gift of gold;
It is the vision of a human face

O, it is friendship; it is the soul’s greeting
To kindred souls, to sights that join and tend
And argue and clash and fight and take a beating

And may not reach, but value, the same ends.
Journeys may end indeed in lovers’ meetings –
Journeys begin with meetings of new friends.

Comments

[sartorias.livejournal.com]

Oh, that's quite nifty!

[fpb.livejournal.com]

Thank you.

[filialucis]

I like this very much.

[fpb.livejournal.com]

And thank you too.

[fpb.livejournal.com]

Oh, so I can scan after all?
Thank you too.

[fpb.livejournal.com]

To be fair, I am not at all sure of that particular poem myself. Here is the whole thing: see what you make of it. If, after reading it all, you find that my inner ear was off, I won't dispute it.

ST.VALENTINE'S DAY 1998

Not long ago I took myself aback.
We were - do you recall? - in a long talk;
And it was night, and I was calling you,
Calling to you. Debbie, if every night
Had been forgot, and every day had died
Before God's eye, from when I had first met you
And the November night I heard my name
Called by your voice, and went so full of joy
That only the Ode to Joy could sing my feelings;
If all these days till now were brought to nothing,
They still would not be wasted. For to love you
Can be no more a waste than for the flowers
To grow and blossom, or for the daystar's light
To glance across a meadow in the spring
When birds are singing, and daisies shine like gold
And silver coins and jewels spread on Earth
By a rich king to satisfy his poor
With bright and lovely things before the sky.
So is love for you; and if a million flowers
Were born and died unknown, they'd not be lost -
No more than a good deed that no man hears of.
And you're a flower, a kindly gift of God,
A single star worth more than all the thorns
That pierce and grip and shed my blood in vain
Around your face. For my heart's in you;
And nothing I may suffer can kill that
Or change the life you're given till I die.
And so I talked that night and heard your voice,
And then heard mine, unready, unexpected,
For I had never thought the words I spoke:
"I was born and put on Earth to make you happy."
And there I stood, astonished at myself -
Because I knew at once I'd said the truth.

O love, the mountains bend their proud heads down,
And lions rest in your lap their royal frown.

[fpb.livejournal.com]

*blushes*

[izhilzha.livejournal.com]

Yes. Oh, that's lovely; and very, very true. May I link this on my LJ? I have several friends who would appreciate it.

[fpb.livejournal.com]

By all means. And thanks to you too.

[lizamanynames.livejournal.com]

*here from izhilzha*

That you for this - it's beautiful.

[fpb.livejournal.com]

Thank you. Considering the amount of praise I got for my sonnet on friendship, I think it's about time I gave praise where praise was due - the sonnet is little more than a versification of CS Lewis' magnificent chapter on Friendship, in The Four Loves.

[dejla.livejournal.com]

Lovely! I could never quite get the hang of sonnet rhythm.

[fpb.livejournal.com]

Thank you. Just read a lot of them and after a while you will find that it begins to come natural to you.

[johncwright.livejournal.com]

Wonderful. The muse has touched you. Polyhymnia; sounds like her style.

I am so weary of the poetry of T.S. Eliot or E.E. Cummings that it is a relief to read something following older forms.

You write better in English than I do in Italian, so don't let any criticism scar you.