Distancing

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Canadian poet, COVID-19, Elaine Stirling, Malayan fixed verse, pandemic, pantoum, social distancing

~~a pantoum~~

the winds of rage are pushing us apart
my friend, I cannot see your face
the mask that keeps our friendship safe
is shredding past repair, for now

my friend I cannot see your face
without recalling something gentler
is shredding past repair for now
the distancing, it makes us strangers

without recalling something gentler
navigation goes to pot, I lose true north
the distancing, it makes us strangers
you need space, I need a quiet spot

navigation goes to pot, I lose true north
when I allow your wrath to penetrate;
you need space, I need a quiet spot
these viral times demand a lot of us

when I allow your wrath to penetrate
the mask that keeps our friendship safe
becomes grotesque, distorting truth
the winds of rage are pushing us apart.

~~~

The pantoum is a Malayan verse form that is sometimes compared with French forms like the villanelle and rondeau. But it’s not about meter or rhyme; the pantoum repeats lines in a twisty way, described best, imo, by Joyce Carol Oates:

“…a poetic form marvellously suited for conveying extreme states of mind—mania, paranoia, delusion. Writing a pantoum is quite an experience….felt each time as if I were descending into madness, and holding on only by way of a rigorous discipline—in itself a bit mad.”

Wishing you health and sweet moments of calm…

© Elaine Stirling, 2020
Image: “Slave ship”, painting by J.M.W. Turner

Strombolian Etude

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Canadian poet, Elaine Stirling, Malaysian form poetry, pantoum, Strombolian eruptions

~~a pantoum~~

I offer hail to Strombolian eruptions,
little stones that break no bones
making light of your incandescent cinders
split apart on tindered fields.

Little stones that break no bones,
oh, lapilli, when did I stop believing?
Split apart on tindered fields
I burn and sputter, no relief.

Oh, lapilli, when did I stop believing
in non-violent sporadic joy?
I burn and sputter, no relief
belching memes like lava bombs.

In non-violent sporadic joy,
making light of your incandescent cinders,
belching memes like lava bombs,
I offer hail to Strombolian eruptions!

~~~

Author’s note: Strombolian eruption refers to volcanic activity that is mildly explosive, sporadic, and fairly safe to observe. Lapilli, Latin for little stones, are shot into the air, along with other bits and pieces mentioned in this pantoum. The term comes from the volcanic island of Stromboli off the coast of Sicily.

© Elaine Stirling, 2017
Photographer, unknown

The Last Articulate Man

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Canadian poet, Elaine Stirling, form poetry, medieval fixed verse, pantoum, triolet

~~a sequence of form poems~~

1 – Triolet

To the last articulate man standing
I have put out a call.

I am dumbstruck, appalled by what people are handing
to the last articulate man standing.

Can he not see we have slowed to a crawl?
We cower in shadows, don’t say a damn thing

to the last articulate man standing.
I have put out a call.

2 – Pantoum

What do you want?
To die of old age in your sleep,
or to live in slow-motion despair
wearing grief like a bone in your throat?

To die of old age in your sleep
is a wish you’ve no right to impose on the rest.
Wearing grief like a bone in your throat,
you’re a cock in the wind on a roof

is a wish you’ve no right to impose. On the rest,
there’s really not much you can do
but spin & complain that the view stays the same.
If only you’d learn to declare

there’s really not much you can do
or to live in slow-motion. Despair…
If only you’d learn to declare,
WHAT DO YOU WANT?

3 – Rondeau (Ringelreim)

Baloney. It’s something you ate
as a kid on white bread. It was great
until you grew older
and facts made you bolder.
You started to choose what you put on your plate.

But the flavours, of late,
make you sick. So much hate
rolling over us all like a boulder. Baloney.

Everyone feels. That’s not up for debate,
unless you fall for the poisonous bait,
the allure of the outraged, the scolder
outwitting the scolded. You both feel colder
and blame it on fate. Baloney!

4 – Triolet

Gently now, there is no rush,
no race to find the answer.

Settle in, surrender to the blush,
gently. Now, there is no rush.

Your every step and fall’s a brush
with love. Eternal, flawless dancer,

gently now, there is no rush,
no race to find the answer.

~~~

© Elaine Stirling, 2017

The Final Leg of the Journey

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Canadian, Elaine Stirling, form poetry, Malayan fixed verse, pantoum, poet

~~a pantoum~~

The final leg of the journey remains
to be seen, though I don’t know by whom.
There’s really no point in obsessing on doom
when I know, more or less, where I’m at.

To be seen, though I don’t know by whom,
and then judged as hopelessly lost
when I know, more or less, where I’m at
puts the spin on my power to choose.

And then, judged as hopelessly lost,
when we’re all free to think and to feel
puts the spin on my power to choose
whether to listen, to hole up, or cruise.

When we’re all free to think and to feel,
there’s really no point in obsessing on doom.
Whether to listen, to hole up, or cruise,
the final leg of the journey remains.

© Elaine Stirling, 2017

For Yusuf

Tags

Canadian poet, Elaine Stirling, pantoum

~~a pantoum~~

Who am I to judge your calm,
you who vanished when the storms
around us swirled their fiercest?
I moved inland. You chose the coast.

You who vanished when the storms
were still gathering the anger of others
around us swirled their fiercest.
I memorized their lyrics. You withdrew.

We’re still gathering the anger of others
wearing confusion like fractured pearls.
I memorized their lyrics. You withdrew
to the almond grove to practice new chords.

Wearing confusion like fractured pearls
around us swirled their fiercest
storms, gracing us with one stilled eye.
Who am I to judge your calm?

~~~

© Elaine Stirling, 2016

The Long Game

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Canadian poet, Elaine Stirling, form poetry, Malayan fixed verse, pantoum

~~a pantoum~~

It’s easy to be easy
to be knowing with the flow
that all is well and getting better
where I focus, there I grow.

To be knowing with the flow
that emotions smoothly navigate
where I focus, there I grow
by ignoring the unwanted, I define above, below.

That emotions smoothly navigate
hand in hand with chosen thoughts
by ignoring the unwanted, I define above, below
as a light beam of affection

hand in hand with chosen thoughts
that all is well and getting better.
As a light beam of affection,
it’s easy to be easy!

© Elaine Stirling, 2016

Advice from Atlas, post-shrug

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Canadian poet, Elaine Stirling, Malayan fixed verse, pantoum

~~a pantoum~~

I have flung off the weight of the wordless don’t
do that, they say, you’ll be unloved and sorry.
No one enjoys the ambitious, vainglorious—
and true self-esteem is a virtual meme.

Do that, they say, you’ll be unloved and sorry.
Failure’s the safer likelihood; it’s loyal
and true. Self-esteem is a virtual meme
people like, share and save, seldom mean.

Failure’s the safer likelihood; it’s loyal,
roomy with lots of dark places to hide
people like. Share and save! Seldom mean,
you could take the time to be kind or be quiet

and roomy with lots of dark places to hide.
No one enjoys the ambitious, vain. Glorious,
though, is the one who agrees to succeed!
I have flung off the weight of the wordless don’t.

~~~

© Elaine Stirling, 2016

The Chicken State

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#celebratediversity, Canadian poet, Elaine Stirling, humourous poetry, Malayan fixed verse, pantoum

~~a pantoum~~

For every point of view there is an audience
a tier of seats with fannies firmly set
and eyes like glue sticks predisposed
to roll, adhere, and plaudit: Just like me!

A tier of seats with fannies firmly set
affirms that I have reached some center stage
to roll, adhere, and plaudit. Just like me
is what my chicken self (cluck-clawk!) aspires for you,

affirms that I have reached some center stage,
a coop d’etat, a free range state with me as head
is what my chicken self (cluck-clawk!) aspires for you…
what’s that you say—I’m cool—steel hatchet?

A coop d’etat, a free range state with me as head
and eyes like glue sticks predisposed…
what’s that you say? I’m cool? Steel hatchet—
For every point of view there is an audience.

~~~

The glorious chicken image comes from http://www.coolanimalspics.blogspot.com.

© Elaine Stirling, 2016

Tulips and Thistles

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Canadian poet, Elaine Stirling, Malayan fixed verse, pantoum

~~a pantoum~~

You who insist you’re a lover, I want
you to bring me six tulips
the colour of kisses, and thistles
majestic as lace on a queen’s bridal bed.

You, to bring me six tulips
in a knightly manner of ease and grace
majestic as lace on a queen’s bridal bed,
might reverse this kingdom’s weary intent.

In a knightly manner of ease and grace
with a butterfly’s poise, the glance of your sword
might reverse this kingdom’s weary intent
of depressives, defeated. Restore the good word.

With a butterfly’s poise, the glance of your sword
the colour of kisses and thistles
of depressives, defeated, restore the good word!
You who insist you’re a lover, I want.

~~~

The thistles off to the side of this patch of tulips are still in bud. When they open they will be astonishing.

© Elaine Stirling, 2016

Obsessing

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Canadian poet, Elaine Stirling, Malayan fixed verse, pantoum, poetry for fun

~~a pantoum~~

Obsessing on thoughts on streets that go nowhere
I’m hunching my shoulders, recalling
how yesterday’s runners took up all the tables.
We sedentary saints couldn’t hear ourselves think!

I’m hunching my shoulders, recalling
how someone on Facebook went apeshit again.
We sedentary saints couldn’t hear ourselves think
about hot desert islands and big fat accounts.

How someone on Facebook went apeshit again
is upsetting my mojo that loves to dream
about hot desert islands and big fat accounts—
ought to give you some pause, don’t you think?

Is upsetting my mojo that loves to dream
how yesterday’s runners took up all the tables
as easy to fix as—slow down, silly rabbit?!
Obsessing on thoughts on streets that go nowhere…

© Elaine Stirling, 2016