The Elements Within
Beginning with the morphogenesis
Of cells—of gel-like tissues, organs, skin—
Inside a water bath becalmed with hush;
Becoming, taking human form; in bliss
Until the fetus reaches growth within;
When suddenly, the sac expels a gush
Of water, followed by a microburst
Of woman’s push and Nature’s pull. They flush
The infant out to face the worldly din:
The bottom slap, the cry, the light, the first
____Great rush
Of air that fills the lungs and saturates
The cells; that stimulates, wakes up the brain;
The pumping, pumping, freshening of blood
With oxygen that freely circulates.
And oh, to breathe in summer after rain,
That fragrant scent the greens and trees exude,
Before it dissipates within a blink!
And then, throughout the years, the vicissitude
Of seasons’ changing airs, where in the main,
I take what comes with age—the fading pink
____Rosebud
Of youth. So here I am—made flesh, made bone.
The grass feels cool and soft against my feet
As leisurely I saunter solid ground.
I’m tethered here. This land is all I’ve known.
It’s where I suck the milk of Nature’s teat,
And where, at close of day, I’m safe and sound.
I like to think the life I live has worth,
And dread the thought of six feet underground,
While understanding life is bittersweet;
And yet, I persevere. I walk the Earth,
____Spellbound,
My brain an inner Milky Way, a web
Of nebulae and stars ablaze. This fire
Has brightly burned e’er since I was a lamb.
Synapses spark with random thoughts that ebb
And flow; that spin around as in a gyre;
That criss and cross and constantly enjamb;
And though I’m getting somewhat long in tooth,
Until the flame goes dark, I’ll carpe diem
From dawn to dusk my heart and mind’s desire;
For there is this—this undeniable truth:
____I am.
Cheryl Corey is a poet who lives in Connecticut. “Three Sisters,” her trio of poems about the sisters of Fate which were first published by the Society of Classical Poets, are featured in “Gods and Monsters,” an anthology of mythological poems (MacMillan Children’s Books, 2023).
Thank you, Cheryl, for this poignant and personal poem, so well and economically expressed with bold and intricate rhyming. Best wishes, Bruce
Thank you for your words of appreciation, Bruce.
Cheryl, as the mother of six I can really relate to “woman’s push and nature’s pull”!!! I also took a while to figure out your rhyme scheme: abc abc dcbd c — very intricately woven and so well-constructed! A finely-wrought poem in structure, diction, and subject matter.
This is a series of eleven-line “curtal” sonnets, ala Gerald Manley Hopkins, where the last line is a spondee.
Cheryl, what a heartfelt poem with imagination beginning with gestation and continuing with life’s duration “until the flame goes dark.” Deftly rhymed and worded.
Thanks, Roy. I wanted to capture the elements of water, air, earth and fire. I thought about water and oxygen as the givers of life and how those elements exist within our bodies; and then, our connection to the earth; and the fire, so to speak, that exists within our brain and by extension, our minds.
This is a wonderful confection of sound and sense.
I especially note the prominence of /s/ and /sh/ sounds in the first stanza: hush, bliss, push, rush, slush, tissues, suddenly, sac. Both the sound and the sense of these words suggest motion and speed, which are appropriate in an image of the urgency of birth. The second stanza continues this use of /s/, and the rapid passage of time dominates here.
Things slow down in the concluding stanzas, though the /s/ sound is still noticeable. These stanzas present us with adult maturity, and a sense of mortality, but still very much enlivened by “carpe diem” and “I am.” This is an expertly crafted poem. And using the sibilant sounds of /s/ and /sh/ in this intensive way is not common.
Thank you for your insight and kind comments. I especially wanted to end the piece with an emphatic “I am”.
There is so much energy here, expressing a full and unwavering love of life!
I’m glad you enjoyed it, Cynthia.
A philosophical and symbolic achievement, Cheryl, incorporated in the literary triumph of a curtal sonnet sequence enjambed. I’m very happy to see a serious use of the form–that is, used by a poet who takes it as seriously as Hopkins did, rather than treating it as a novelty. And it’s beautiful in the choices of image, vocabulary, and sentences manifesting flow of thought. Descartes’ principle, “I think therefore I am,” comes to my mind. There have been many plays on those words (for example, “I dance, therefore I am”), but you’ve said something rather more complex about identity. Of course I won’t ask a poet to translate her poem into prose, but I would be interested in anything further you might like to add in relation to the famous saying, if there is anything. Admire what you’ve already done!
The curtal sonnet is just one of many forms on my bucket list (I have such a long way to go!). I would have been happy to write just one, but as I had the idea of writing a poem based on the four elements, I thought, why not try for four, and linked at that! I did have Descartes in mind as I composed the last sonnet. I happened to have an earlier, rudimentary poem based on his principle. It never went beyond the notebook; which is probably why it’s good to save such dribs and drabs of poetic thought. You never know when you might be able to make something out of what seems like nothing.
I don’t see this poem as personal; I see it as universal. The rather complicated structure is a good fit with the complicated ideas it presents — really, really good stuff, with long echoes through the deep terrain of the sparkling landscape of the little thing we call life.
You’re right, C.B. There were a lot of thoughts running through my mind in the creation of this poem, and the challenge was how to organize and present them in a way that made sense. I found that it helps to start with a general outline and note-taking.
Brilliant. A poem to reread again and again.
Thanks for this marvellous piece of poetry, Cheryl.
So glad you like it, Paul. I definitely did enough re-reading of my own during composition.
When I was done, I began to think of our bodies as electrical units. I’ve often noticed that if a nearby radio is static and I place my hand on it, the static clears. I thought about how our blood contains iron and the Earth’s core is iron. So many thoughts rushing through my mind! Crazy? Perhaps.
Crazy? My brother cannot wear an analogue watch. After a few days or a week, it always stops. There are theories that this phenomenon is due to magnetism, but no one really knows for sure.
I love the form, the musicality, and the message of this admirably crafted poem, which has me thinking about my own existence and just how much I adore this mad and marvelous world. Cheryl, thank you!
Thank you for your kind words, Susan.