Right Down the Line

Uh-oh. Slipping, slipping, slipping … when I fall behind, I fall. I do have a crazy-long set of stopovers on my way to the residency, and I could (in theory) fill those hours writing poetry to catch up with my 30/30, but will I? Oy.

I was two poems behind, and then it was three, and right now … it’s four! That’s too many. I wrote last night … and then was too tired to actually post.

Here’s last night’s poem:

Excavation

Holding steady, keeping hopes aligned ... just in case.
Searching my past -- unsure what I'll find -- just in case.

Hiding in all the dark corners of memory,
stories and secrets fully entwined just in case.

This sort of digging opens too many doors,
like a river flowing through my mind. Just in case.

If the answers aren't here, there are no answers.
Stop hunting fruit in a dried-up rind, just in case.

I, Stacie, keep mining -- my stories, my missteps --
I lose the drift then start again, grind. Just in case.

But the title of this post is borrowed from the song that’s been playing in my head for weeks at this point, Gerry Rafferty’s “Right Down the Line.” I think I liked that song when I was a kid. I certainly haven’t given it much thought since then. But suddenly it was back in my brain, floating up from somewhere deep. And it hasn’t left. Other earworms have cycled through, but this one just stays in rotation. So I made a poem out of it.

Right Down the Line

A steady backbeat I can't ignore, an earworm.
Bubbling up from deep in my core, an earworm.

Your Northern Star was so much kinder than Joni's,
ripe with connection, with hope to explore, an earworm.

You said "I love you" in a song, just like Croce
gratitude and respect sung gently for an earworm.

I don't recall -- did I love this song as a child?
Maybe ... not? But now I hear so much more. An earworm.

So I, Stacie, sing along with Mr. Rafferty.
Sing commitment, sing love. It's you. You're an earworm.

National Poetry Month 2022: the Ghazal

As I’ve done for more than ten years (what?!), I’ve chosen a poetic form, and I’m going to try to write a poem in that form every day for the month of April … and I’m saying that boldly, knowing that I’ve already failed. I couldn’t find my way through to a poem on Day One, but I’m determined to continue.

The “Ghazal” is the form I’ve chosen for this year. Here is the structure and a little backstory (thank you Poetry Foundation):

“Originally an Arabic verse form dealing with loss and romantic love, medieval Persian poets embraced the ghazal, eventually making it their own. Consisting of syntactically and grammatically complete couplets, the form also has an intricate rhyme scheme. Each couplet ends on the same word or phrase (the radif), and is preceded by the couplet’s rhyming word (the qafia, which appears twice in the first couplet). The last couplet includes a proper name, often of the poet’s. In the Persian tradition, each couplet was of the same meter and length, and the subject matter included both erotic longing and religious belief or mysticism.”

Should be interesting!

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