Proverbs in Anima Humanis or Vice, in Verse

I thought I'd try my hand at writing proverbs...those pithy aphorisms King Solomon and Ben Franklin were given to penning. These are liberally seasoned with simile and metaphor baked in savory verse.

Care fetters the mind
as shackles, the imprisoned bind
but expression frees the heart
as manacles, a goaler's key

Doubt sows tares in good intentions
and beats plowshares into swords
whilst faith tends the Gardener-given patch
gladly, gently, peaceably, and with love


Deception perverts truth
as a wasting sickness cripples and deforms
yet honesty gives wings to the earthbound
to take itself heavenward


Gloom wrenches the mind
like stones, causing the foot to stumble
but a smile clears the path
and helps the sojourner on her way

Loneliness corrodes the heart
like acid on a blooming jonquil
but friendship is heart's-ease and balm
soothing the sadness and meeting the need

Fear corrupts the soul
like mildew in rising damp
while trust dries up encroaching mold
blowing it nowhere to harm no one

Strife ignites the stomach and
heats the blood, like flame to tinder
laughter, also like conflagration,
spreads and warms without burning.

Anger charges the choleric to
take up arms and duel to death
but tolerance inspires the sanguine
to put passion to healing

Hatred impales, decapitates, silences
like a guillotine or pikestaff
while Love embraces, enfolds, protects

repairs, rebuilds, resurrects and renews

as Man, once dead, lives again

Taskmaster

Taskmaster


the muse will not be
mitigated, satiated, filled
restlessly, he bids me always
to pen when i would sleep

i call him "he" tho'
in fact, "she" he may be
or even "it"-- as bestial
he often devours me whole

Phantasm? Demon? Harpy?
Fury? Friend? Foe?
Muse at my shoulder
monkey on my back

all senses or affect
any tranquility I may possess
or long for, any serenity I demand
is always answered "nay"

"Legion" he very likely is
for he or they never sleep
or take ease or allow it
driver driving the driven on

he takes my spirit to task anon
Quixote, questing, dreaming impossibly
haunts my wakings, troubles my night
tilting at windmills and at nothing

like Poe's eternal Raven
not imprecating "Nevermore"
but exhorting me "onward"
"Excelsoir" and "evermore!"

Not bird, nay, but yet hawk, even vulture-like
in wary watchfulness
knelling, compelling, opining
of what? je ne sais quoi

would that he were,
my night companion,
as Poe's winged fiend
made of flesh and feathers

Like Dickinson's thing with wings
for then I could perchance parley some
converse, rail, inquire, implore
enigmatic possibly, but living

Or, in greatest travail
cease his eternal bullying
silence his endless harangue
plunging my quill in his breast

but ever, mine is Petra-still
implacable, immovable
a fixture, with only orbs
and zeal alive and probing

all-seeing, omnipotent, still
pity-less, remorseless, relentless
like water on a stone
encroaching, eroding, erasing

further still, a millstone
of justice and retribution
a nemesis, revolving slowly
grinding steadily finer

wearing me down to
thought, emotion, specter, bone
taxing, teasing, telescoping resources
to unreachable reaches

would that my demigod ever
commended or even acknowledged
my passion-drained self
my craft-weary, word-heavy soul

Under his ceaseless, scalding stare
I will 'ere be apprentice
journeyman perhaps, but never
master, magistra, beladonna

In ages past and times to come
I will tarry not in slumber
while decomposing, I compose
in composition, no repose


~marilisa, 2/22/12 Ash Wednesday

Free Verse Poetry Writing Guide

Poetry Wrting Guide: How to Write Free Verse Poetry
Poetry gives voice to the soul. Writing poetry is like singing; it should flow from the spirit. Unlike tangible things, poetry is not so easy to dissect, critique or explain. There are some devices that poets employ to create poems.
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Big Lake Poems: Acorn benediction and Oak Leaf offertory

November fall leaf funerals

grampa in flannel coat and ear-flap cap

me in fur-trimmed jacket and pom-pom hat

big rake and little rake

26 trees in grampa's yard  

oaks with crunchy-crisp fall-down-brown leaves  

and thousands of acorns

kept us and squirrels hunting and gathering

grampa boasting with neighbor  

of how many bags each would offer 

on his autumn harvest pyre

each secretly sure his sacrifice would please most

On cracked cement altar  

leaves piled ceremoniously high  

consumed in flame under watchful eye  

of grampa against shifting winds

leaves to ashes, ashes to dust

pom-pom clad mourner bids farewell

rest in peace, rainbow friends

to nourish next year's soil

but acorns were not burned

acorns explode sending out soul sparks

that singe unwary watchers

their little selves spared, but only for autumn-greedy squirrels

close my eyes and i can smell

oak-leaf incense from ritual burning

hanging heavy-hazy under leaden November clouds 

sharp, sad fire-fall fragrance

summer oak bounty smoldering

on heaps of crimson and ash

tolling Indian summer death knell

somber scent of endings and good-bye

  

  

The Grama-Grampa House Smell: Fresh-wind Lake-green Pine-time

Fresh-Wind Lake-Green Pine-Time
More from the Big Lake Poems anthology. I wish that I could make you smell the way my grandparents' house near Lake Michigan smelled. Or that I could smell it again. Maybe this poem will help.

The grama-grampa house

was not on Lake Michigan

but you could smell the big lake 

in their house

as the crow flies grampa and I could walk

to the big lake and we did

at least once a week every week

of my life since birth give or take

except when we moved to Alaska

or during my years in college

until I moved away

but i came back and walked with him

he took my kids for walks to the beach

our oldest three that is

he wasn't getting around too well

when the youngest came

the lake inhabited the grama-grampa house 

in scents of sand and wind

wood and rain

and an indefinable fragrance signature of Lake Michigan alone

I smelt it first and best

coming upstairs third step from the top

of the cool yellow speckle- tile basement

where I was sent to fetch canned cherries

from the cedar wood pantry

that grampa built for grandma

for a dessert called

Cherries in the Snow.

we saved some things

from the grama grampa house

in a box sealed tight

to preserve the wind-fresh lake-green pine-time smell

for awhile if you sniffed soul-deep

there was a whiff of it

wind-fresh lake-green pine time

but now its all gone

i can evoke scent-memory a little

with feel-think smell- remembering

i can conjure up the grama-grampa house

but only a little and its fading fast

Big Lake Poems: Lily- Laced Walks

Lily-of-the-Valley grew along Grandpa's walk

Tiny white bell-blossoms with breath of heaven scent.

He pruned the yard but let the lilies engulf the path.

Sometimes you had to skirt them and walk on the grass.

Grandma had Lily-of the Valley in her wedding bouquet.

It cost twelve dollars for a dozen in 1935.

It was the Great Depression and that was a fortune

but she wanted them so he got them.

I have an old photo of her at the altar

It's a black and white, painted on the back for color.

they did things like that back then

She's holding the lovely lilies and she is lovelier 

I guess lily-of-the valley are weeds

I didn't know that. He told me so, my husband

They grew in the motor-oil soil of the alley behind his growing up house.

Some even snuck under the chain link fence and his mother would root them out.

 

I grew up with stories of

dollar a piece lilies in bridal bouquets.

I thought everyone felt that way about them. 

these wee white wedding bells

 There are ancient lily-of the-valley

 lining the crumbling walks of our now house

 Planted when the city was just a stop

 on the interurban to Grand Rapids.

Someone talked of digging them up when we moved in

"you won't want them, we feel sure"

I protested, let them grow and he agreed

One woman's weed is another's wedding bower

It's 20 years now.

Grandpa's lily laced walks 

have new people living within them

I dream I'm back there every night

The lily bride and her slender-pale groom

have been in their graves for nearly the same

their lives long and full

but no less painful the passing for the length of sojourn

My groom gathers our lilies in spring

and puts them in a vase 

that my grandmother gave me

how we miss those silly romantics who wasted two weeks pay on weeds

April National Poetry Month Selections

Childrens' Poetry Around the World
Poetry is the color of music, the rhyme of the rainbow, and the rhythm of life. Poetry is ambrosia and nectar, the food of the gods, nourishment for the soul. Here are some collections of poetry which you can celebrate with a child.
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Free Internet Literature and Writing Help

Free Web Resources for Literature Lessons and Homework
You have to crawl before you walk. And you have to read good literature before you write. These resources will help you to both read and write. 10 sites to get free assistance with literature lesson planning or homework. Includes study guides, lesson plans, activities, games, online books, ebooks, reference and resources.
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Poetry for Halloween ~ A Witches' Brew

Here's a free form poem for Halloween from Tracy Pawlukovich of Associated Content. Notice how Tracy's word choices evoke all the senses: sight, sound, smell, taste and touch. You can read more of Tracy's poems in other poetry forms at AC

A Witch's Brew
A free form poem, Halloween inspired.
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Oh what hallowed fears
on this eerie night
add a lizards tears
good gone awry
defer the smiles
in the hospice, they lie
the rules of joy
are null and void
the long black tail
of a mouser is next
and a gobbet of meat
from the little pest
bonanza of greed
is what this will bring
in this cauldron of black
oh, hear me sing
the specter of a prosaist am I
ghoulish and dark
add some bark of bonsai
boil and dance is whats up next
let the moon glow shine
on this pot of mine
bitter refreshment
for the souls of the dead
the sun is coming up