Thursday, November 8, 2007

My Reflection . . .

I've always admired great poetry. To take a few words and arrange them in such a way that they speak beyond their meanings borders on tangible magic. It is a talent which I do not possess. I find my novel lacking all but a hint of poetic prose. A by-product of my "to the point" personality I guess. I have tried many times to capture a little of that magic and have fallen woefully short. The closest I've ever come is the following. Hope you enjoy.


My Reflection . . .

My reflection is someone I do not know,
my pains and anguish do not outwardly show.
Through stoic looks and smiles of joy,
the face of a man masks a little boy.


Like the hair of Sampson is the essence of I,
cut from the Spirit, my soul may go awry.
So to gather the pieces of my broken life,
I kneel before God, I call upon Christ.

And when I am made together as one,
Then my reflection I will become.

8 comments:

Jerry Pat Bolton said...

Methinks you protest too much . . . This is a lovely sonnet, Dayle, and one which says what you want it to say in poetical language you profess not to have . . . I recall someone saying something recently about another fellow who likes to downgrade his writing abilities to desist in poor-mouthing himself . . . The guy who said those words is someone you know quite intimately, I propose you heed them, my friend . . . The Bard would agree, methinks . . .

Dayle James Arceneaux said...

Okay, you got me there, Jerry. :)

Thanks for the reminder.

But, in my defense - you haven't seen my other failed attempts. This is the only one worthy of posting. Shoot enough arrows at the target and you're bound to hit it eventually.

And thanks for the compliment.

Janet Rubin said...

Lovely, Dayle.
I like to play at poetry on occasion too. Mine always rhymes, which isn't really "in" anymore, I guess. But I like it:)

donna fleisher said...

See, now that's the beauty of poetry -- the freedom to create with words, to hit the reader in the place of the heart most vunerable. You fashion the words, hear their cadence, and know they express what burns in your heart. That is enough. Good or bad -- who can say? Poetry is neither good nor bad. (Even "bad" poetry can be really good!) Poetry is, IMO, the purest form of expression there is. When a man sits down to write it, he immediately distances himself from the rest of us schmucks who only think we are "deep thinkers."

Carry on, Mr. Arceneaux. And think not if any of your expressions of pure art are "good" or even "not-so-good." Just keep pouring out what flows inside you, and the more you do, the more you'll set yourself apart as not just a good artist, but a great one.

: )

Dayle James Arceneaux said...

Thanks, Janet. Btw, I only like the ones that rhyme.

That's a good point, Donna. You're right. Poetry just is. It either resonates with you or it doesn't. And thanks for the encouragement.

Darcus said...

"To take a few words and arrange them in such a way that they speak beyond their meanings borders on tangible magic."

Dayle, just with that line right there your words drew a bit of my breath and pulled on something with in my soul. For me, those words were perfect. So because of that, I think poetry can lay with in all types of writing. It's just whether or not we see the treasure that's hidden or not so hidden.

Dayle James Arceneaux said...

Darcus,

I really don't know what to say about your response to my line except - Wow and thank you.

I really didn't even think about that line when I wrote it. Maybe there's a lesson there.

Your point of hidden treasure is brilliant. I've never thought of it that way.

thanks again, you've made my day.

-dayle

Anonymous said...

Wow, back at you! Now you are making my night..."brilliant." Dayle thinks my point was brilliant. That will keep me going for a while ;)...lol!

Really, I am quite glad to have made your day.

Darcus