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A Reason for Hope
__The sky so bright,
__The morning mist,
__The inbound flight
Back to the items on our list
__Are all a part
__Of one big scene
__That makes the heart
A diachronic smithereen
__Which gropes ahead
__To find its place
__And make its bed
In the accommodating space
__Where it belongs.
__And so we sing
__The ancient songs
That come straight at us with the ring
__Of truth. In fact,
__A rousing spirit
__Caught in the act
Will save us, though we tend to fear it.
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The Highroad to Damascus
_Elias was a Levantine
_Who learned when he was seventeen
That women don’t like men who ride on bikes.
He saved, then bought a used Mercedes
_To make some headway with the ladies—
From that day forward, mostly he got likes.
_He thought he needed brand-new threads
_Designed to turn the ladies’ heads,
But nothing off the rack would fit his frame.
_And so he drove into Beirut
_To buy a custom-tailored suit
And put his old competitors to shame.
_They say the girls in Tel Aviv
_Still wring their hands and sorely grieve
His marriage to that siren from Damascus.
_Nobody knows where roads will lead
_Or where a man shall spill his seed.
If more details are what you need, just ask us.
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C.B. Anderson was the longtime gardener for the PBS television series, The Victory Garden. Hundreds of his poems have appeared in scores of print and electronic journals out of North America, Great Britain, Ireland, Austria, Australia and India. His collection, Mortal Soup and the Blue Yonder was published in 2013 by White Violet Press.
Your first poem is of interest for its rhyme scheme and structure as much as for its interesting, unusual reason of hope portrayal. It has been a long time since I have seen the old lands of the Eastern Mediterranean referred to as the Levant, or Levantine as you phrased it.
Hope, Roy, can come from anywhere, but we have to look for it. St. Paul demands it of us. A Levantine is is simply a word (when used as a noun) that means a person from the Levant.
Both highly entertaining poem, C.B.! I’m intrigued by the form of “A Reason to Hope.” Each stanza consists of three lines of dimeter capped by a final tetrameter line. Perfect for comic effect as well as to build a structure leading to a punchline or conclusion. Is this a form you’ve invented?
The High Road presents an interesting fictional world. Not too many dudes with the OT biblical name “Elias” would end up in Beirut or Damascus leaving behind broken hearts in Tel Aviv. Let’s just say the demographics don’t align. But this is Poetry Land and so it not only works but is very funny to boot. Especially that “ladies/Mercedes” rhyme and that moment you get unapologetically blue. Your ability to come up with unusual rhymes always impresses me.
I think it is a lot of fun to write heterometric stanzas with various rhyme schemes, Brian. I invent them freely, When the lines are short, the rhymes tend to come quickly.
As it happens, Elias is a rather common first name in Lebanon, and Israel, along with Syria and Lebanon, is considered part of the Levant. I think the demographics are just fine. “Spill seed” comes straight from the Bible — just ask Onan.
I agree with Brian about the entertaining rhymes in “The Highroad to Damascus”. I also think Elias was wise to understand that ladies don’t like men who ride bikes — or at least, I’m one of those ladies (even if in reality I may possibly be in the minority!) Not only were the rhymes and the meter entertaining; the story’s plot was, too. I really enjoyed this poem.
I’ll have to admit that I’m perplexed about “A Reason for Hope”, even after having looked up “diachronic”.
I don’t think there is anything wrong with riding a bicycle, Cynthia, but it’s hard to offer a girl a ride if you do. I hope that Evan or Mike will take note that every third line (the pentameter lines which rhyme with each other) should appear flush-left. I’m glad you enjoyed.
The heart, across time, is pulled in many directions. Life is best approached with vigor.
Notice that in “A Reason for Hope” the first three quatrains and a small part of the fourth constitute a single sentence, everything properly subordinated. I’d love to see more poets attempting that kind of linguistic sophistication.
“The High Road to Damascus” is playful, lighthearted, witty, and very amusing. In music, they’d call such a piece “humoresque.” It has no moral, no lesson, no preachy edification. It’s just a delightful little story about Elias and his technique with the ladies.
Kip has started out with “Levantine,” and then hammers home the geographical context with brilliant rhymes such as Beirut / suit, Tel Aviv / grieve, and Damascus / ask us
Insubordination is not my style, Joseph, and one is fairly forced to toe the line when filling out a tricky structure.
For the second poem, I had to look at maps and turn to Wikipedia. Sirens, too, once inhabited the Mediterranean.
Both of these are highly entertaining. Your imagination is very well developed. I can’t imagine coming up with The High Road (unless it’s really autobiographical). Very well done
It is quite possible, Warren, that I have more imagination than common sense. No autobiographies here!
Nice! The Highroad to Damascus poem. Will share this today with my Boss at The Tides Inn Farm-to-Table 5-acre garden.
Nice right back to you. If you are involved with a 5-acre garden, you know what work is, and you know what it means to be in a state of constant vigilance against various marauding phyla. I hope your boss doesn’t fire you for wasting his time.
I love the playfulness and idiosyncratic rhyme and meter in both poems. The high level of craftsmanship in both makes their playfulness more effective.
“A Reason for Hope,” while playful, has a serious statement at its core. Its description of the heart needing to be “where it belongs” resonated with me as sobering words of wisdom. “Diachronic smithereen” is a delicious phrase, as is the rhyme spirit-fear it.
“Highroad to Damascus” involves, I think, an oblique and satirical reference to St. Paul’s journey to Damascus. Perhaps the marriage was his salvation — or not. That’s left tantalizingly open. Here you treat us to many wonderful rhymes: Levantine-seventeen, Tel Aviv-grieve, Damascus-ask us.
I swear, Adam, that nothing gets past you. This is what happens when poets come out to play. Blessings on your house and all of those within it.