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Beach Fragments
A million tiny fragments strewn across the sand
Along the foaming margin of the boundless sea—
The spiraled, fluted castles built so splendidly
Now smashed and shattered, mere detritus on the strand.
The sculpted contours, hues and patterns tell how grand
Slow, humble, unseen labor shone once undersea,
Only for pounding waves to fling mercilessly
On coral rock, and leave to bleach on sun-drenched land.
The broken colonnades of Italy and Greece,
The long-abandoned glyph-carved stones along the Nile
Remain to tell the grandeur of the vanished whole.
The broken architecture of each blasted piece
Still tells a logic of design, a sense of style
Far past the ken of humble mollusks on the shoal.
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Seaside Storm
We frolicked on the beach,
Building our castles from sand,
Laid out for sunbeams to reach,
Or ambling on the strand.
We eyed the sun ahead,
Rapt, while behind us a cloud,
Towered and darkened and sped
Upon the heedless crowd.
Now we see the storm loom,
Blotting out afternoon’s light,
Thundering, threatening doom,
Scattering us in flight.
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Adam Sedia (b. 1984) lives in his native Northwest Indiana and practices law as a civil and appellate litigator. In addition to the Society’s publications, his poems and prose works have appeared in The Chained Muse Review, Indiana Voice Journal, and other literary journals. He is also a composer, and his musical works may be heard on his YouTube channel.
The seas and oceans hide so many architectural achievements of mankind that over time have sunk out of sight leaving the beguiling “detritus,” as you said. The seaside storms often seem to arise out of nowhere, although the likely case is people simply do not pay attention to the coming clouds until the gales are upon them. These two poems provide a pleasant interlude for intrepid imaginations.
Adam, I enjoyed both poems, particularly “Beach Fragments” as I have rarely encountered a Petrarchan sonnet written in alexandrines instead of iambic pentameter. And a sea breeze seemed to blow through both works that I found refreshing. Well done!
What I find in “Seaside Storm” is a metaphor for the storms of life. Don’t we all, at times, have our castles in the sand?
Beautiful imagery, and profound thoughts.
The sonnet in alexandrine lines, as Carey Jobe remarks, is rare in English, although very common in French (where the Petrarchan octave is used). I have tried translating such sonnets into English, and I find it difficult to make an English hexameter sonnet where lines do not often break apart, or need filler adjectives. Adam Sedia’s “Beach Fragments,” however, flows strongly in beautifully varied rhythmic lines, and the adjectives all contribute to the meaning and atmosphere of the piece.
The sense of the sestet is well done. Adam compares shell fragments to ruins of classical civilization, in context of “a vanished whole.” Who designed the vanished whole of undersea architecture? One could say God, whose works ought to be superior to those of human culture. But that thought is beyond the scope of the sonnet. It compares fragments of work by Greek, Roman, or Egyptian artisans, to fragments made by humble mollusks. This is a culture-versus-nature comparison, in which God is the artisan behind both, but gives human beings a share in His creativity that animal instincts do not have. Thus the sonnet can truthfully declare that human logic, design, and style surpass that of mollusks, beautiful as their works may be.
I’m glad both of you commented on the Alexandrines. I originally tried writing this in iambic pentameter, but found that a couple extra syllables were necessary to encapsulate everything I wanted to say. I’ve been reading Italian sonnets lately, and naturally turned to the Alexandrine meter they use.
Adam, I’d love to know which Italian sonneteers you’re reading. I know there is supposed to be an Italian alexandrine line, but I have read mainly hendecasyllabic sonnets by Petrarch and his predecessors and followers.
Right now, I’ve been reading sonnets by Alfieri and Foscolo. I’ve also read Spanish poetry extensively, and the alexandrine is the favored meter there, as well.
Thanks for the reply, Adam. I’ll keep these in mind as authors and places to read alexandrine sonnets different from those I know.
It’s funny, Adam, but both poems, for me, convey a deep sense of loss. Oddly, though we humans left the sea long ago, we still bear its semblance in our circulatory system, where every drop of salty blood must regularly and rhythmically pass through the heart.