Sonnettics

I thought the loss had left, but now it’s back
I guess it missed the anger on its shelf
The anger and the loss are gray and black
They stain the palette that I call myself
I paint the sky above a darker shade
I stain the fields I walk, with ash and coal
The colors of its flowers will degrade
Their petals mark the wilting of my soul
The loss is worse than weeds; its roots are strong
The anger is volcanic when it flows
I’d like to find the place where they belong
Wherever they belong, my sonnet goes
I think it lost its volta when it learned
That angry words which left, have now returned.

I wrote this sonnet to honor national poetry month, which is April in the USA.

I wonder why they didn’t choose July?
One day of Independence is enough?
The fireworks of poems in the sky
Could fill the month with metaphoric stuff
Like couplets that explode like brilliant flares
Oh wait, that’s just a simile, oh well
In quatrains, couplets often come in pairs
A month of Roman Candles would be Hell!
So April is the month they chose for verse
I guess most people think of rhymes in Spring
A month of rhymes or fireworks, what’s worse?
(That question is rhetorical, both sting)
Let’s take the month to focus on the art
Of words that come from each poetic heart.

What happens when a heart-strong nurse decides
To challenge Mellow Johnny to a race
Of course he runs and swims; of course he rides
But kickboards? Two triathletes? What’s their pace?

They don’t just tri, they do; their cause is just
They’ll fight for Teens with Cancer with a duel
They need your help, come help the cause combust
As Eggers duels with Armstrong in the pool

Come cheer them on or donate to the cause
Whoever wins, the Teens will win for sure
Life moves too fast; nobody needs to pause
For apathy, I think they’ve found a cure

Who knew: one race where everyone will win
I’m glad that nurse decided to begin!

I always thought that March 21st was the first day of Spring, but according to Wikipedia, today is!

Here is my first Spring Sonnet for 2012:

The Warmth of Spring

I feel the warmth of Spring; it makes me grow
The cold of winter melts within Her heart
Where once was crystal ice and frozen snow
There’s water now, which springs of Spring impart
Their water is relief in Summer’s heat
I’ll heal and grow throughout this blessed year
Of course there’s stuff I never will repeat!
But I don’t need to, now that Spring is here
She’s more than just a volta, made of days
She’s more than just some sonnet on some page
And yet, She’s like a little song that stays
Like Beauty’s youth, regardless of Her age
I’ll grow again beneath the warmth of Spring
Her offered Love will help my own Love sing!

Here are the first Spring Sonnets of previous years:

• 2011 Tease
• 2010 When He Saw Her
• 2009 Beauty at Death
• 2008 Easter
• 2006 Love’s Confirmation

I met my Angel at a race today
We ran together, simply side by side
I know she could have gone another way
I know I could have too; I could have died
But I survived the accident to run
I’m blessed to have this Angel run with me
Like plants that grow are blessed to have the Sun
My Angel knows I’m lucky, just to be
She thought she’d be the last to hold my hand
That time she found me, broken by the way
This life is not the life that I had planned
But c’est la vie, I’m here with her today
We get to run together; we are blessed
She isn’t just an angel, she’s the best.

About

Written mostly in the morning as I thought about the half marathon I would be running with a woman who first saw me two years ago, right after my accident, It was a good healing/growth day for both of us. I call her “my Angel” because she held me as I lay nearly dead by the side of the road, but I only mean “Angel” as a metaphor for the good person she is, and what she did for me. I realize she is just a person/mother/wife/sister who is trying to live a good life. She continued her compassion for me today during the race by getting me water and stuff at the aid stations, Thanks, Angel!

Let’s lift a pint to Patrick on his day
Let others kiss the Blarney Stone for luck
Like shamrocks, it’s become a bit cliché:
Saint Patrick’s day with clovers, run amok
No leprechaun deserves to be debased
By being caught in bad commercial art
Such travesty deserves to be erased
True rainbow gold is hidden in the heart
The Emerald Isle is more than green or gold
Saint Patrick’s Day does more than just enthrall
Let’s celebrate the Irish, young and old
Let’s celebrate the saintliness of all
Come lift a pint and greet the day with “Cheers!”
Let’s celebrate Saint Patrick’s day for years.

It’s warm. The moon illuminates the clouds.
Our jump is set for midnight, so we rest.
As silently as if we’d taken vows,
We wait. Each time we wait it’s like a test.
It’s like a test of patience, not of nerves,
With backs pressed up against the rigger’s shed;
One box is filled with mains, one with reserves.
We wait, clichéd, as patient as the dead.
In time we mount the mains upon our backs.
In time we strap reserves across our chests.
Inside the bird it’s harder to relax,
Because it’s warm and we are tightly pressed.
And still the moon illuminates the sky.
And still we’re waiting silently to die.

Today I’m “Mellow Johnny” on my Felt
The wind is at my back; my legs are strong
If rides are cards, I like the hand I’m dealt
If power’s music, I can sing that song!

It isn’t just a jersey on my back
This maillot jaune declares my ride’s intent
If wind’s the peleton, then I’ll attack
If power’s money, nothing has been spent!

I’ve saved it all, like gold within a bank
My maillot jaune’s a golden, yellow vault
My Felt succumbs to every pedal crank
The gears I crank are bigger by default!

It’s not about the bike; my engine knows
I ride wherever “Mellow Johnny” goes.

About

I wrote this one in honor of Lance Armstrong, aka Mellow Johnny. Whenever I wear my yellow jersey, I think of riding with Lance. He has been one of my inspirations for my own “come-back.”
If a cancer survivor can win the Tour de France, then a guy like me can overcome a TBI and come back to run a sub-3 at Boston and do a sub-10 at Kona!

Spring forward from your sleep and dreamy state
It’s time for daylight savings time to start
Don’t set your clock back or you will be late!
Remember to “Spring forward” and be smart!

In Fall, we’ll all “Fall back” to sleep and dreams
But now we need to wake, and rise and shine
As antiquated as this action seems
It’s habit-forming, friendly, and benign

Ben Franklin is the man the man attacks
The man who’d rather sleep and dream instead
He said it would save Paris on their wax
And keep their candle lights from going dead!

So don’t forget to set your clock ahead
And please be kind to every sleepy-head!

Daylight Savings Time for 2012 begins next week, Sunday, March 11th, at 2:00 a.m. and ends Sunday, November 4th, at 2:00am.

An extra day makes leap year extra long
Okay, it’s just a day and days are short
(at least it makes a pleasant little song)
An extra day for laughter, love, or sport!

I’d like an extra day in every year
I guess I’ll have to do with one in four
It isn’t worth the effort of a tear
(I don’t believe that’s what my tears are for!)

But little songs and tears and extra days
Fit nicely in my sweet sonnettic sight
So thank you, Leap Year. You deserve my praise
For giving me an extra day to write!

Earth’s orbit hasn’t changed; it’s just leap year
The 29th of Febuary’s here