We Have No Word In English

Tags

corazon, Elaine Stirling, free verse, love poem, poetry, untranslatable terms

We have no word in English
for corazón
the heorte of Old English
and the kardia of Greek
come nowhere near
the heart
of corazón, that word
the Spanish pulse
holds dear
on this I’d firmly stake
my final versos

While Greco-Roman
arguments and conquests
bleed and leak and drip
through aeons still
to tie and twist
our tongues
lone cor
the whole of courage
pumps and breathes
and flies the power
of archangels winged
by light of paired
and weightless lungs.

Old High Germans
knew this, and the forges
of old Norse drew iron
from the blood of ancient
corazón to gird their
spears with the godlike
spirit of Iberia.

Who can know
the origin of that
which knows no
opposite and no
equivalent, no
beginning and no
end to consonance
and whispers through
the ode to corazón?

~~~

While looking for the etymology of the subject of this poem, I wandered into the fantastic word, logaoedic, which comes from the ancient Greek for singing or ode. It is, apparently, a poetic technical term for the mixture of meters; having a rhythm that uses both dactyls and trochees or anapests and iambs. What that means in simpler terms, I believe, is that certain poems sing themselves into being with no rules or limitations, apart from those that the senses inspire.

Since the age of fifteen, I have been a dyed-in-the-wool aficionada of Latino music, particularly the pop stars of the 70s and 80s. If I were to use one word to describe what I love about it…well, it took me an entire poem, but it’s still one word. The beautiful image of a heart on fire comes from http://www.1lugarparati.wordpress.com.

© Elaine Stirling, 2014

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I, Gnat

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Elaine Stirling, free verse, poetic bit of silliness, poetry

I gnat, once giant, scrambled
by a witch’s curse, write this final
testament of how I loomed
before I shrank, and what I thunk
before I thank the purveyors
of drug and greed who paid
the hag to do this deed.

Today, as you can see,
I am an irritant who longs
to swarm with others of my
kind and fly into the faces
of the ones I wish to notice
me. In times gone by, my
quaking steps would shake
the roofs of mighty folk,
and all would quaver
when I spoke, no need
had I to earlobes bite or
hop away in itsy bitsy fits
of spite. My scorn was held
in high esteem. I crushed
the skulls of those whose
creeds and lesser talents
bugged, and stirred them
smugly in my tea.

Now I ache for company
and whimper with my cap
in hand—a little kiss is all I
ask—and if I’m lucky get a
slap. No one wants a weeping,
lonely, carapaced and backward-
facing gnat to call their friend,
and that’s a fact!

So here I stand
not what I was
but who I am
a six-legged little
insect man who
did the things he did
for good or worse.
At least, I never stole
a purse—except that
once, and maybe she
was not a witch, that
woman I was dumb
enough to love, who
stomped across my heart,
and maybe she was not
unkind but merely someone
who observed and finally tired
of the boy inside the frightened
man who wished to grow to be
a giant to fight back, protect
the ones he thought could
not protect themselves.

And maybe what I’m
hearing now while crawling
through the inner ear of
who I used to be is not
the creepy roaring sound
of one whose ego swelled
to giant size, then burst
like greasy weevil guts
but echoes of a greater me
who holds us both, the big guy
and the gnat, as equal treasures—
and that slap I thought I heard
was real but tactical, to wake
some sleeping sense in me.

~~~

© Elaine Stirling, 2014
The delightful image of a screaming gnat comes, appropriately, from http://www.screaming-gnat.com.

In Love to Stay

Tags

Elaine Stirling, falling in love, free verse, light erotica, love poetry, new romance

A photograph of you
and me fell between
my knees on a beach
dropped by a waiter
with a piña colada
and a growl in his voice:
I was told to give you this.

I lifted the straw hat
off my face. I don’t
like sweet drinks.

Not this. That.
He pointed to
a place strangers
shouldn’t point.
I sat up.

The picture
was taken in
twenty-o-three
on the side of
a mountain,
Kelowna, B.C.

You were wearing
the smile that always
got you a second piece
of pie and not much else,
stretched across the
timothy, knee dropped
in front of majestic details
I used to love to sketch.

Me, I knelt behind you
with the slightly glazed
look of an auto-timed shot,
my bare arms spread:
Look what I caught!

A shadow fell
across me just as
I was starting to
compare my boobs
of then to now.

They’re perfect.
Always will be.

And I looked into
the face of you, ten
years on, the aqua crystal
ocean and your eyes
conspired from the same
divine, insoluble palette.

Your legs apart,
steeple-tall and lean,
I moved my gaze to
your belly hair that curls
when wet and tastes
of things to come.

I came by jet,
you said, soon
as I heard.

I knew then as
I’ve always known
I am in love to stay
in love with you.

~~~

© Elaine Stirling, 2013

Kingdoms of Democracy

Tags

brave new leadership, dreaming awake, Elaine Stirling, free verse, full spectrum thinking, inclusiveness, nagual, optimism is a choice, poetry, political thought, The Corporate Storyteller, wordplay

I dream in tones ideal
plummy, rich, the accolades
in gold brocade, the wine
is clear and redolent of days
to come, the carpet plush
beneath my feet, there is
no rush like seeing you
in all you have become
the scepter in your hand
it buzzes in the presence of
the sceptical, the orb you
toss to keep us on our toes
got lost; I saw it last, wedged
fast between the snaps that
hold Orion’s belt. He’s napping
now, but once he wakes
he’ll count the votes—the vote
we won for every little thing,
the voice that counts discerns
the eyes and knows the majesty
of human being human, here
inside my dream there are
no slaves, no beggary, make
no mistake—you can’t, for all
we have are opportunities
to choose anew and sigh and
blush at every turn that lifts
this kingdom of democracy
for me to get a better
look at you.

~~~

© Elaine Stirling, 2013
Image: colour wheel by Johann
Wolfgang von Goethe, 1749-1832

Positive

Tags

Elaine Stirling, emotional choice, expansion, free verse, neutrality, perceptions, poetry, point of attraction, self-appreciation, self-pity, simplicity

The only face
that is unreal
that lurks behind
the unresolved
does not exist
the all or nothing
that I say to hide
confusion in the
pleats of
meaningless
then wait until
the back of what
I fear is turned
before I show
the muted hues
and find the words
to make my case
misunderstood
oh, woe
the neutral mask
does not exist
it is the only lie
for all attracts
for good or ill
of this and more
of same, it is
enough, I may
be positive

~~~

© Elaine Stirling ,2013
The beautiful image of carved masks comes from
Bugei World Gifts at http://www.tacticaledgeinternational.com.

Of a Sunday

Tags

alignment, appreciation, Elaine Stirling, free verse, harmony, letting be, meditation, poetry, point of attraction, relaxation of thought, The Corporate Storyteller

Of a Sunday
I shall let the sinew
of these words resound
a violin, accord with
peace. Is harmony so
hard to hear, or have I
deafened for the sake
of fear of being less
than right?

On other days
I might attune to
greater deeds than
these of penning words
or not—a phrase of praise
for you, my friend, I doubt
will go amiss for every
thing at sea must come
to land in time and if my
thoughts should falter
I will side with nothing
much until the laughter
rises in these eyes
again, and who you
are to me brings
passages of
greater clarity.

~~~

© Elaine Stirling, 2013
Image of violinist by Theresa Rankin
http://www.theresarankinfineart.blogspot.ca

Paint

Tags

be easy on yourself, brave new business leadership, confidence, covering up, Elaine Stirling, free verse, healthy ego, humour, insecurities, poetry for fun, self-reflection, The Corporate Storyteller

No matter how
many coats of paint
I paint the past
it’s passed, the point
of paint, of course,
to beautify, protect,
to cover and reflect
what otherwise I might
reject for being plain,
unvarnished, bare…
bare like branches in
late fall, bare like
weathered sheds
and truth—egad,
no, not the truth!

And when I paint
to cover, glossing over
bumps and flaws, I call
them out, though not
to play, there is no fun
in imperfection—can
there be?

And in my fear
that you might see
the curvatures of life
as she displays herself
with some magnificence
through me, I’ll focus
on your semi-nakedness,
the neither-here-nor-there
of you that is the me, stuck
in the past, reflected, and
I’ll point them out quite
helpfully—just there, a little
flaw. Hold still, I have
the perfect paint.

~~~

© Elaine Stirling, 2013

Lessons From a Lemon Tree

Tags

allowing, bees, brave new business leadership, Elaine Stirling, free verse, fun and relaxation, Law of Attraction, lemon tree, lessons from Nature, let it be, let's try believing all is well, poetry, The Corporate Storyteller

In letting it be
how much
of the it
should I let
be?
All?
That does
feel somewhat
lazy, though what
else have I to
offer but my
letting?

For if something
does somewhere
know best, I’d
rather learn
from
it
than spout
the bits I know
and prove how
little of the its
there are
and if
there’s nothing
anywhere that knows
the fix and how
of things then
freer still I am
to watch
the hind
end
of
a
bee.

~~~

© Elaine Stirling, 2013

Kit, my Kaboodle

Tags

authenticity, brave new leadership, duality, enjoyment, free verse, honouring feelings, humour, individuality, intention, light and dark, lightness of being, my voice is my voice, nagual, parody, poetry, satire, self-importance, self-pity, The Corporate Storyteller, uniqueness, vibrational reality

I have a caboose
at the end of my train
with an imp that enjoys
thumbing noses and moons
at the sun when a new dawn
arises my eyes need to blink
and the imp sees his chance
and he hangs from the tail
where he shouts at the passing
terrain, whatcha you gonna do
now, pretty boy?

My imp’s name is Kit, and I do
try to shush him, though not very
much ‘cause he’s got the touch of
a jester at heart, and my brain with
its lore is a bit of a bore, and my
soul isn’t whole unless I can
laugh at the bridges we burn
and the tracks we lay down
and pretend when we crash
that they weren’t our
own handiwork.

The thing is, we all
have to run on the steam
that we bring, and if mine
blows too hot or too cold in
your face, and yours makes
me yawn, we could still show
some grace—not go stupid nutty
all over the place, when our tracks
must diverge. I have no intention
of leaving sweet Kit at the station
or anywhere else for I love how
how he thinks and he sees and
he laughs—he’s divine. Yes,
Kit, my kaboodle, is mine!

~~~

© Elaine Stirling, 2013
Image of caboose from http://www.bbcrc.org

Two Short Pieces

Tags

arcana, Celtic mythology, Elaine Stirling, free verse, Law of Attraction, mediocrity, poetry, quantum entanglement, Selkie, sonnet, The Corporate Storyteller, vibrational reality

the husbanding of poems

around certain
poems communities
gather around certain
poets worlds

some verses promise
a soft place to land
others shock and stop
the heart and may
not start it up again

you’ll know
the nature of the
communal poet by
the imitation that
surrounds him
and the maker
of worlds by
his space

in every instant
that I hold back ink
command its flow
upon the page or in
the reader’s eye
I lose my rights to
claim the title poet
fall behind to join
the ranks of free
verse tyranny

~~~

Selkie’s Final Word

Do not bring your weather to me, do not
share your salt-spray summer days, your basking
slathered bellies on bare rock. What you’ve caught
with net and reel is for private screening.

I’ve cut the lines you wrapped around my throat;
their length, at length, you may require. Measure
doldrums while you lament your creaking boat,
catches strung, digested for your pleasure.

“To know a man,” says the poet, “is to
be that man*,” but what you did not know of
you became my albatross, a weighted two
that nearly drowned us both. That was not love!

We keep alive what we resist, so fade.
Through my embrace may come fresh winds of trade.

(*line excerpted from “The Sail of Ulysses” by Wallace Stevens)
~~~
© Elaine Stirling, 2013
–Image of Selkie, artist unknown, from
celticanamcara.blogspot.ca