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Blood, Sea
—after Italo Calvino
Beyond the blight of urban sprawl,
About six hundred yards from shore,
A pod of fishing vessels trawl
The coastal waters. Sea gulls soar
And dip above the crack and spall
Of massive piers in search of gore
And kitchen scraps. Crustaceans crawl
Along the harbor’s littered floor.
This briny cauldron whence we came
Two hundred million years ago,
And since have done our best to tame,
Holds much we haven’t come to know:
The sound of every holy name
That echoes through the undertow,
And drowning sailors soon to claim
A plot awaiting down below.
For dark abysses unexplored
And teeming schools that rise to bait,
We bow our heads and thank the Lord.
The scaly creatures fill our plate,
And depth is to our thoughts restored.
Placental mammals share a fate:
The cutting of the natal cord
And knowledge that may come too late.
The rising waters all around
When Noah drifted on the Flood,
Before the Ark had run aground,
Still ebb and flow within our blood.
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The Ever Present Underlayment
__When muscles start to soften,
__Which happens fairly often
In men who reach the age of sixty-five,
__The sedentary grouch
__Who’s sitting on his couch
Might start to wonder why he’s still alive.
__They say that peace and quiet,
__A salutary diet
And frequent exercise will keep you sound.
__I know of some who’ve tried it
__And others who’ve defied it,
So guess which kind of man is still around.
__And when it comes to females
__Obsessing over emails,
The least that I can say is: Get a life!
__The one I’m married to
__Assaults me with her shoe,
Regretting that she hadn’t thrown a knife.
__And she whose home I share
__Gives me an acid glare,
But what would marriage be without some strife?
__This woman whom I wedded
__Declared that I’m pigheaded
And lucky that I even have a wife.
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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.
The phrase “knowledge that may come too late” caught my attention and endorsement. Your poem was rhymed beautifully in each verse with the extended abababab scheme of the first three verses (and half of that in the last verse) that also impressed me. The word “spall” was an inspired addition to the rhymes.
Hell yes, Roy. The sooner we know, the better. As you well know, rhyme has never been a crime. For many years I watched concrete (and terra cotta) flake in the weather without knowing that there was a word for this process.
Many of us do feel “as one” with the sea.
I love the meter of this poem, “Blood, Sea”.
The meter, Margaret, is iambic tetrameter, and there are many who love it. The sea will always be a part of us, whether we like it or not.
“Blood, Sea” is a great take on Calvino’s strange poem. I think I’ll borrow some words from Macbeth, and call this piece “A tale told by a blood cell, full of fishy sea water, signifying everything.”
The speaker’s voice in that second poem is that of a cranky geezer, but a geezer with a wonderful command of rhyme and meter.
(Small note: should there be a line space in the last section, to make the poem have four sections of sestets?)
To your last (parenthetical) point, yes, normally I would have made it four stanzas, but the rhyme sound for each of the pentameter lines is the same in the last twelve lines, and I wanted to avoid the embarrassment of having to explain why I used the same rhyme sound in two successive stanzas.
I’m not familiar with Calvino’s poem, but Blood, Sea is quite exquisite and strangely haunting, with a depth that is going to take a few more readings to come to terms with.
As for the The Ever Present Underlayment, it’s funny and worldly-wise with a superb use of technique – hard to pull off but it seems effortless in your hands.
I’m not sure, Shaun, that Calvino’s piece was actually a poem — probably speculative non-fiction, or something like that.
Sometimes these things seem to write themselves.
These are both superb poem, C.B. The Ever Present Underlayment is in some ways quintessential Anderson in its wry tone, piquant wit and ingenious use of rhyme. It’s funny, thought-provoking and feels like an authentic slice of nupital bliss.
But “Blood, Sea” for me is a masterpiece. Much of the style that I’ve come to associate with your work has been muted — not discarded so much but suggestive of a large toolbox in which only a select few tools are used for this particular piece. There is still some of the wry tone, some clever rhyme. And yet there is an earnestness to what you say — insights which are unique and wise. A balance between the ethereal and the mundane… the ancient oceans and drowning sailors versus the scaly creatures filling our plate. There is a sense of fantasy mixed with profundity which I admire very much. You connect us to the very ancient in a way which I find both compelling and moving. So well done.
Well shucks, Brian, I couldn’t ask for a nicer comment. I think nuptial bliss almost always comes with nuptial blisters.
I’ve been thinking about the blood/sea thing ever since I read Calvino’s piece back in the early 70s.
C.B., these poems showcase your versatility and talent for writing exquisitely beautiful and highly entertaining poetry. “Blood, Sea” is an instant hit with me. It’s the sort of poem I aspire to write. The superb “briny cauldron” stanza gave me goosebumps… a sure sign that this is poetry at its finest. Thank you for taking my breath away and inspiring me to up my game!
Yes, Susan, we mammals have certainly come a long way, and it is our human responsibility to reflect upon that strange journey. If we have gone beyond our avian cousins, why do we still get goosebumps? Your game is in top form, and I’m confident that you will be able to take it to any height you desire.
CB, “The Ever Present Underlayment” struck a chord in this 75-year-old! I know all about softening muscles and motivational struggles regarding exercise. Ogden Nash would be proud to claim this piece, I’m sure.
Two things, David: You and I are the same age, and I get plenty of exercise (though probably not the right kind). And a third thing: Nash is welcome to it (but don’t tell him I said so).
“Blood, Sea” is marvelous. You paint a vivid scene, then “pan out,” portraying the sea in all its majesty and mystery, naturally flowing to the insight that it is part of us, explaining the enigmatic title deftly at the end. I’ve read much of Calvino’s fiction, but I can’t say I’ve read his poetry. Was there a specific work that inspired this?
“Underlayment” has a different character altogether, a pleasant dessert after “Blood, Sea.” It portrays one of those facts of life recognizable to everyone, a trope that is true, hence its humor.
Well yes, Adam. The work of Calvino’s that inspired this poem has the exact same title.
In my opinion, not everyone recognizes such facts of life, though no one seems able to evade them.