Friday, December 13, 2013

These Tracks of Time Are Not Signs of Disgrace


Tomorrow I turn thirty-five.

If we take seventy years as an average, that means I'm about halfway through life. I've decided to celebrate this auspicious occasion by trying to write a villanelle, one of my favorite fixed forms of poetry.

As you will shortly see, I have not been overburdened with poetic gift, but I enjoyed the challenge of giving the repeated lines different connotations in each stanza while still meeting the metric patterns and communicating an overarching idea.

I may or may not have succeeded.

But anyway.

Happy halfway birthday to me!

*

"These Tracks of Time Are Not Signs of Disgrace"

These tracks of time are not signs of disgrace.
The curling leaf is not a cause to fear.
Recall that each breath is a lavish grace.

Each day, confront the mirror face to face:
With laughing eyes, defy each mocking smear.
These tracks of time are not signs of disgrace.

The frenetic years unfold and march apace;
We flounder, lost amidst their tread, unclear.
Recall that each breath is a lavish grace.

Our feet may wander, straying off their place,
Beckoned by th’horizon’s thin frontier.
These tracks of time are not signs of disgrace.

Though from death’s stoop we’ll falsely seek to veer,
Our feet will find their way in any case.
Recall that each breath is a lavish grace.

The past and future gently interlace
In every heartbeat—just now—this one—here.
These tracks of time are not signs of disgrace.
Recall that each breath is a lavish grace.

1 comment: