Thank you for sharing this intimate window into a moment that continues to echo within. Though trauma cannot be undone, through poetry's alchemy we give voice to what wishes to be heard, and in this, find solace.
A vivid and evocative piece that crafts a rich kaleidoscope of images with its detailed narrative and innovative structure. Your Trojan Horse Sonnet introduces a refreshing dimension to the world of poetry.
It’s about me and a friend, who also happens to be a lit professor and Coleridge scholar taking a pilgrimage to Hailey Idaho to the birthplace of Ezra Pound. We had our own reading of the Sea Farer on the lawn of the house where Pound was born. This friend, one Jim McKusick by name, recommended I read Wallace Stevens based on my interest in Pound. That same day we had Huckleberry ice cream, couldn’t resist.
Pleated cotton kisses the cold concrete step,
I'm too young to understand meditation,
I stare at ants,
A bag of books,
Homework can wait,
Sweets stuck to corners in my pockets,
Every corner on the street has an adventure,
Curtains dancing, eyes spying,
I could have gone to town on a half torn bus pass,
But I'd miss the metal key turning,
The sign that waiting is over,
Hours have passed
But I'm used to the waiting.
post traumatic observation #2
I keep going to the moment when he produced the gun
the the steel pressed the flesh of my temple
his crazy eyes
mouth screaming "I'll drop you"
I have no control in this moment it seems
I'm doomed to live it over and over and over
despite the fact that Nico never pulled the trigger
he is a trigger
gateway into the rush of anxiety
that yields explosiveness far exceeding
any gunpowder and hammer.
by Edward Storm
Greetings Edward,
Thank you for sharing this intimate window into a moment that continues to echo within. Though trauma cannot be undone, through poetry's alchemy we give voice to what wishes to be heard, and in this, find solace.
Beautiful
The Master and the Student
Emperor of Huckleberry ice cream
waters Idaho gold a shade of green
while hanging our clothes out upon the line
these fine pilgrims raz the cell tower pine.
Trimming away the sad old rose thorn,
the sea farer cries, and gives this his scorn
ignoring the sad old campfire songs
when Kubla Khan’s pleasure court sounds the gong.
Sit with a pipe full of Oregon weed
and watch the black billed magpies fly and feed,
at last, we have a king who shares his rings,
goes deeper into the nature of things.
We ain’t got sun valley money honey,
drink from a jar he placed in Tennessee.
Note: This is a Trojan Horse Sonnet. Six couplets concluded by two lines that do not rhyme.
Maci,
A vivid and evocative piece that crafts a rich kaleidoscope of images with its detailed narrative and innovative structure. Your Trojan Horse Sonnet introduces a refreshing dimension to the world of poetry.
Wonderful work!
It’s about me and a friend, who also happens to be a lit professor and Coleridge scholar taking a pilgrimage to Hailey Idaho to the birthplace of Ezra Pound. We had our own reading of the Sea Farer on the lawn of the house where Pound was born. This friend, one Jim McKusick by name, recommended I read Wallace Stevens based on my interest in Pound. That same day we had Huckleberry ice cream, couldn’t resist.
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/45234/the-emperor-of-ice-cream
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poems/14575/anecdote-of-the-jar
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44917/the-seafarer
"The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream."
Absolutely spellbinding, Maci.
Bravo for intertwining the past with the present in such a flavorful and evocative journey.
Keep lighting the way!
I’ve got 47 more if you want to read them, and that’s just the Trojan Horses.
sure!
Anna, I admire your craft and courage.