Tag: Poetry

YANKEE

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

1

don’t presume the ocean is smiling
or the gulls enchant
the spire warns you

especially in New England

to step
back from the wreckage
or unexpected nor’easter

2

gales and furies
sweep up and disappear within hours
behind placid indifference

raise public duty

expense and craftsmanship
defining coastline
signatures, on the dotted line
in the clearest conditions

3

pointer / referent / rhythm of light / solitude or
loneliness / romantic illusion / high-maintenance history
lightening bolt / flicker / flare / discharge
beer can or wine bottle uncorking or blowing its cork
tourist magnet / spike / whistle, horn, upturned bell
observatory / night madness / memorial / first end of the sea
fist of defiance / ordered rock on rocks / spiral staircase to sky
to the horizon / a hollow tube / a composition of lenses
slivers of glass / slivers of crystal / a glass circle carousel
a hermitage / pigeon roost / billboard / thumbtack
anchored ship’s bridge / silver cup tilting / upraised finger

4

Boon Island, flashing white every five seconds
projects nineteen miles out to sea

Goat, faintly to the north

to the south
White Island, out in the Shoals

and Whaleback, would be double white flashes every ten seconds
just over the trees

way off, Thacher Island Twin Lights
(aka Cape Ann Lights or Rockport, Mass.)
project seventeen, but viewed from up on rock

at Nubble, some extra distance
on a rare night

of calm
antiquity

joining the squat red beam
and strobe flash
each one
proclaiming liberty
over any face of oppression

the tyrant sea offers

Poem copyright 2016 by Jnana Hodson
To see the full set of seacoast poems, click here.

REGARDING WHAT NEEDS TO BE DONE

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

despite a full plate of crumbling renovations on hold
Squirrel adopts the Yankee attitude on old-house syndrome and its endless repairs
that is (lots of laughs) wait until something actually falls off
if you can survive doing so
until the savings recover
or there’s thawing

* * *

by late May, the soil firms enough
to get about removing an extensive box elder
for light to expand a space
for a 25-by-4-foot raised bed
of asparagus

in late September, with 20 raised beds of various sizes
boldly placed
the child moans she hates wood chip pathways
and would rather have a soccer field on a hillside

still Squirrel wonders who’s kicking next in their recipe
invoking a snaking rainbow, and is grateful

Poem copyright 2016 by Jnana Hodson
To see the full set of Home Maintenance poems, click here.

QUADRILLE

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

four theatrical scenes

1

thirteen dancers hold large butterflies, frogs, crabs, and fish
on sticks over their heads

on our pallet, everyone laughing and tickling

Christmas lights adorn a swan the size of a sailboat on the beach
surrounded by jesters and an undertaker in top hat

and don’t giggle much

tents with electrical lighting have encamped under a bird feeder in the library

late-night lime daquiris, with or without salt

a dozen dresses covering light bulbs
hang from a leafy tree after sunset

2

the classic marble trio upholding the blue orb
stands in three stages of undress

regardless, stay cool

3

behind the eyes and ears of her diaphanous gown
she wears nothing

she still has eggshells behind the ears

Salome, with her slippery hands

4

a surgical theater of the dead Romans and Dutch masters
with a sole nun present and in prayer

while the child skateboards through the kitchen

elaborate mathematical equations in icing on the wedding cake
as animal tracks through a universe

Poem copyright 2016 by Jnana Hodson
To see the full set of Partitas, click here.

LACKING

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

outwardly, my ways were simple
even austere or ascetic

my modest apparel
considered drab or seedy

still I was becoming

wary of self-negation
that denies the sweet
Bread of Life

*   *   *

when John from Tri-State Megabucks phoned the office
to report the latest week’s winning number, he asked
in an attempt to be friendly, if I had my ticket in hand

so I replied, “no, it’s against my religion” and then
sensed a stupefaction on his end of the line
there might be another position on this business

O Holy One
keep me tender in reaching across differences
where a holier-than-thou attitude accomplishes
nothing more than standing in faith

*   *   *

if there weren’t so much insufficiency all around

the homeless, unemployed, imprisoned,
impoverished, illiterate

quickly overwhelm
apart from family and spiritual community

within my neighborhood
how little I alone can do
against needs deeper
than those seen

where any sense of great inadequacy provokes
a hardening wall

while judging myself harshly
reminded
to my own consternation
of how I’m lacking

Poem copyright 2016 by Jnana Hodson
To see the full set, click here.

 

EXODUS

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

If spring arrives without rain,
would the root and leaf open?

Seed that has not rotted
or satisfied hunger,

become buried too deep
or fallen on stone,

may reply, in its own season. And so,
in your own way, rise up and walk.

Keeping your heart tender,
within reason.

Poem copyright 2015 by Jnana Hodson
To see the full Green Repose collection, click here.

PRELUDE & FUGUE 44/

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 2 Comments

no clouds except in the sky as yet
snow sits atop cones
in long-needled pine

*   *   *

in long-needled pine, a gray hill
beyond the snow-covered cones
becomes cloudy sky
yet pussy willows are molting

gray clouds of snowy pine
yet the sky covers cones atop long-needled pine
in the primrose sunrise the snow covers
pussy willows before you believe summer is coming

yes, beyond the snow-covered gray hill
wisps of clouds are melting
into pussy willows and pinecones

with the melting snow atop cones
the long-needled primrose sun sets
in a gray hill of pussy willows
you believe summer is coming

no clouds with the melting
wall atop gray cones

beyond the pussy-willow clouds
with the melting gray wall

birch beyond pussy willows, not clouds
melting the gray wall atop long-needled cones
beyond the pussy willows

~*~

Poem copyright 2016 by Jnana Hodson
To see all 50 Preludes & Fugues, click here.

RELICS, IN TIME

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

1

along the edge
where river after river, cove and forking
confuse and disguise without end
each minaret has a name, often two

a badge
capped by a dome
a green-copper half-moon
above glass and the flash
or a triangular
arrowhead pointing to Heaven

the occasional towers standing in pairs
are to be read as eleven, rather than two
in the mathematics of waves

along Cape Cod, Cape Ann, Cape Elizabeth

2

token of peril
crag and sandbar

a warning
to welcome
a warning

acknowledging most shipwrecks
occurred within sight of shore

however deceptive the calm

3

a preference for lighthouses on craggy sites
to those on lawns or hillocks

still all stand

arrayed as white prayer flags along the coast
these relics, in time

all fall away

as we journey

Poem copyright 2016 by Jnana Hodson
To see the full set of seacoast poems, click here.

MOVING, AS IN SEEKING ROOT

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

we move. like the water, like the wind
– across rock, across soil –
until people speaking of common activities
and customs will completely baffle

sometimes the growing season’s quite short
compared to our place of origin
even so, she wants tropics
where everything in the closet
will mildew before sunrise
and there’s no worry of frost

we’ve gone underground, ourselves
after trusting too much in human love
emerged not on rock or air wholly
but collected from scattered places
and pieced back, as best anyone can
with blueberry-stained hands

so what’s the name of your divinity?
your desires? your natures?
the apple of your eye?

even the forest seeks climax
she’ll say, quartering a winesap
its burgundy ringing

Poem copyright 2016 by Jnana Hodson
For more, click here.

POETRY SPRINGING FROM WITHIN ITSELF

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

Here’s a section from a collection of contemporary American sonnets I’ve done along the lines of those by the late and wonderful Ted Berrigan. It’s one of 60 from Braided Double-Cross.

~*~

As I said at the time …

In defining poetry, Berrigan’s concept of a windup toy serves well for me. How basic can I make it? (A single word? Maybe two?) As well as how extended or elaborate!

I still don’t like poetry that’s written as code, an intellectual equation of meaning.

Also, I prefer lines that are long enough to have something happen within each one.

I love when literature (or any art, for that matter) opens as a state of awareness – or fullest existence – which also expands into epiphanies of dancing or singing or perhaps, well, just imagine. Think twice about the chemically aided experiences – pinot, martini, pot? Yes, the Zone, when it graces. In a continuum, with differing specifics.

A set of skills and disciplined thought and, I would hope, tradition / culture. Not that every time I read a book or sit to write I’m there. Indeed, there may be good reasons we cannot dwell long in that Zone (Is it too isolated? Too exclusionary? Self-centered even when we find it occurring in Otherness?) …

A break, then. And then back to work.

~*~

CROSSING XXXVI

A green-streaked sentry flanked by thistles
on every town common is more explicit
than any boom box. Please, my darling, please
don’t let carnal memories expire between us.

I set forth at a disadvantage.
Ribbons of baby oil. Snaking Chinese dragons.
One flesh, lagoons. Trembling like the wind
in shrubs and flowers. You chained

criticism on my Academy of St. Martin
in the wallpaper, provoking blatant spice factory
peppers and cinnamon misrepresentations
of common logic, as if you were running for office.

Without proper camouflage, there’s nothing to repulse
destitution overtaking military-issue fortifications.

Poem copyright by Jnana Hodson
(originally appeared in the journal Plungelit)
For more, click here.

Poetry
Poetry

PSALM VI

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

1

what blows
to kindle sunset and sunrise
sprouts wings on the field

is faith planting
for a harvest at the end

all these tough nuts to open
amid rest

*   *   *

each day
always more
bands of light

turn within
fields and currents

tempted by more as well as less, but first
those cries being born

*   *   *

crossing water
invites rest

answering the call to dinner

2

 when we are vanilla
           chocolate the strawberry
rhubarb and asparagus
a cake topped in cherries
sweet corn and trout
with apricots and peaches
the scallions, leeks, garlic
carrots, potatoes, yams
spiced pumpkin
whipped cream, fresh butter
applesauce with pancakes
a bowl of black walnuts
yogurt and sharp cheddar
            or baby Swiss
when we are sap returning to maple
when we are …

when we are snow peas or sugar snaps
            a pear or …
fordhooks or limas

3

I’ve had a taste of these things
Hindu Yogi
Zen Buddhist
Sufi
Amerindian
Mennonite, Dunker, Amish
Old-Style Quaker

all of them, with holy visions

Poem copyright 2016 by Jnana Hodson
To see the full set, click here.