Once It’s Over

              Nothing on my shelf's meant for repurchase
              after I've revisited my seizure
              one last time. Don't venture past my surface
              paintings. Leave untainted at your leisure.
              Sterile rhyme repopulates these pages
              come as gone, uncertain as decisive.
              Don't believe the darkness power outage
              imitates. No demon's that permissive.
              Words revive themselves without assistance
              mouth to mouth. Should mine remain in silent
              coma states, removed to guarded distance?
              Yes! My vision's peace grows ever violent.
              You, dear lover, gave me back my schism.
              Once that's over, don't make mine your prison.

5 Responses to “Once It’s Over”

  1. 2012.08.30 at 6:47 am

    Gush alert! Unabashed like!!

    This poem is a pearl inside a diamond inside a ruby! And then some.

    You’ve been through so much, I’m sure you don’t remember the difference between an iamb and a trochee or between a sonnet and a quatorzain, that every form you touch now seems a nonce form to you, except from all the reading you’ve done since. And you’ve been through so much, I’m sure you don’t remember how emotional you used to get about Turco’s arrogance over the sestina and the sonnet and other poetics, except from all the notes you wrote and have been reading. And you’ve been through so very much, I’m sure you don’t even remember your own intense explorations in poetry from before, except from how much David helped you recreate everything by reading your own words back to you.

    And almost nobody else would ever catch on to what you’ve done here and how you’ve come back unless you allow me to mention in comment what we talked about in chat last night, but this poem is truly amazing and fantastic and beautiful, for how you’ve made the process itself a metaphor for what it is that you are writing about.

    As you used to rant against, Turco has pretended at being the authority in claiming that “if the poem is not written in … iambic pentameter lines (if in English), then it is not a sonnet.” Yet Turco be damned, this poem you’ve nominally written in trochaic pentameter – with sterling feminine rhymes! – ought quite properly be recognized as a sonnet, as you’ve tagged it! If for no other reason than how you’ve shown with your masculine internal rhymes (broken only in a place suggesting a shift from sonic rhyme to a perceptive sense of what rhyme means to you) that a series of trochees can quite easily convert to a series of iambs without any trouble at all, and who’s to know iamb versus trochee once the poem is read aloud naturally, as any good sonnet ought be read.

    That you’ve done this here – written what essentially is two sonnets contained in one – exhibits an elegant beautiful truth, how you are the same Sara you were before, even with all you feel at times you’ve lost. And that itself is a poem within this poem, that pearl in the diamond in the ruby of it.

    And yes, I know how you feel about having your words and your poems and your ideas become something that ties David and me and other friends you’ve known down past the moment you share with us. But Sara, jewels like this poem live. They breathe. They will never be a prison, but only an open sky.

    • 2 sarachnid
      2012.08.30 at 9:44 pm

      Thank you, Maggie. You are right, about how what I know about all of this, I know from what David has read for me and what I have poured hours into reading for myself. I am having a lot of trouble trying to find the words for what I remember and for what I can feel about what I forgot. For where I know I want to go back to. Poems like this one, they are not even close to what I want them to do or say, but you’re right about how much I did try to. Some of my doctors and some others who have seen writing like this find it dishonest, I’m not really sure why, maybe because they’ve never seen it from inside, like how it would be to call the inside of a tornado dishonest just because what appears to be chaos goes in a circle. I don’t really care what they think, I’ll still make it back no matter what, but it’s nice to share time chatting about it with you like we did. I don’t know that it was any pearl inside any other jewel, but yes you did see what I was trying to give words to. That felt nice.

  2. 2012.08.31 at 8:58 am

    Be true to you, Sara. No matter what ever else. No matter whoever else.

    I too like this poem.

  3. 2012.09.01 at 10:46 am

    Thanks, sara, for permitting me to gush so. As we’ve chatted, here’s how I had read your pearl inside your diamond —

              [P]eace grows ever violent. You, dear lov-
            -er, gave me back my schism. Once that’s ov-
            -er, don’t make mine your prison. Nothing on
            my shelf’s meant for repurchase after I’ve
            revisited my seizure one last time.
            Don’t venture past my surface paintings. Leave
            untainted at your leisure. Sterile rhyme
            repopulates these pages come as gone,
            uncertain as decisive. Don’t believe
            the darkness power outage imitates.
            No demon’s that permissive. Words revive
            themselves without assistance mouth to mouth.
            Should mine remain in silent coma states,
            removed to guarded distance? Yes! My vis…

    As even a Turco devotee would have to admit, you’ve written the straight iambic pentameter expected of a classic sonnet in the English language (allowing for the stray syllable you use to link the chain around like a necklace).

    Except whereas the feminine rhymes in your posted trochaic version lined up in a Shakespearian sonnet order, here you’re bouncing your pairs around, yet still within bounds that would be recognized by any reasonable authority as constituting a sonnet.

    One of this poem’s features that completely floored me was that, while you quite definitely have a good strong volta in your trochaic version, here emerges quite an effective volta in this inner version! Two voltas tucked away in the same sonnet! Pure magic!

    Then what blew me away even beyond all that were the two lines where at first I thought you had taken vacation from the rhyming in this version: the 12th and 14th lines in this rotation of your poem. All other lines have a companion, except for those two. Except you are rhyming each of those two to itself, aren’t you. “Mouth” rhyming to “mouth” – yes, Turco or no Turco, a word is considered to rhyme with itself in what is oft called “rich” rhyme. And then “Yes” being a near rhyme (or slant rhyme) to “vis-.” And given the seizure setting of folding your past over your future and your seizure over your reality and your word over your touch and everything else, it suddenly fits so tightly into this poem for you to complete your rhyme-within-rhyme poem this way – by having lines that rhyme with themselves – that I almost half expect to find you rhyming letters to letters and even spaces to spaces within this little gem!

    I know you never played games or puzzles or tricks with your poems before, nor do you now either. From your lightest verse to your seeming least casual formal pieces, you are always true to your word. So yes, I did catch the very sweet very direct dedication you made in this. But then again, I have the benefit of knowing one of your pet names for him, so for me that one didn’t have to chirp very loudly to win a broad smile.

    I only wish I could “like” this again. Maybe I’ll go twist someone else’s arm into doing so. Lovely work, Sara, simply sparkling!

    • 5 sarachnid
      2012.09.03 at 6:20 am

      No. I am trying, but it’s still way short of what I want. It was weaving tighter, and it goes in a bunch of different directions than I can do with lines. I need for it to come out off the page, like how those formulas do. And then leap outside that like how his different levels twisted. This is a start but it isn’t close yet. The form moves like it a little, but maybe I need to bend it back into a sestina?

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