Saturday, May 14, 2016

Wash (a sonnet)

By Eric Meub
 




 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
Big downpour up the canyon fills these halls
in no time, flooding ten feet high in zones
like this, or more, then spilling waterfalls
from basin into basin as it hones
the red-rock, widening the canyon walls,
and carving picture windows in the stones.


But once September comes around I’m done.
A couple sunny weeks, an arid spell,
and in they pour, day-hikers, one by one.
They barge about, chase silence from a well
right here of yellow spirals touched with sun.
The shadow hardens, brittle as a shell.

But it’s a damn shame not to occupy
the wounds in peace, now that the season’s dry.


Copyright © 2016 by Eric Meub
Eric Meub, architect, lives and practices in Pasadena. He is the adopted brother of the artist, Susan C. Price. They respect, in their different ways, the line.

2 comments:

  1. Creatively written. A pleasure to read.

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  2. Thanks for another fine poem about enjoying nature's wonders as a balm for psychic wounds.

    Your contrast of two streams, first of the turbulent water down the canyon vs. the later stream of visitors who spoil the authors peaceful streams of thought is good.

    I particularly like the alliteration and stress of the s-sounds in "spilling waterfalls from basin into basin as it hones the red-rock (nice, hard contrast to the previous flow), widening the canyon walls."

    Super!

    I think the last couplet would improve and become less apologetic if you eliminate the initial But,
    to read:

    It's a damn shame, not to occupy
    the wounds in peace, now that the season's dry.

    Scrap the strict pentameter for crisper meaning.

    The reader will impose his own rhythm on this line in pentameter form, a liberty taken by most good song writers that you also have.

    Rolf

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