#447: What if I moved the cushion out into . . .

Wouldn’t you know it? That on this ninth day of sonnetpalooza, the recommended prompt for the day on the glorious NaPoWriMo website is to write a sonnet!? Now there’s an assignment I can get behind!

It’s Easter, and I feel the urge, almost a third of the way through National Poetry Writing Month, to switch things up a bit. Don’t get me wrong–I will not abandon the goal of writing a sonnet every day for thirty days, but I may have to try something new. I have almost religiously adhered to the Shakespearean form, but there’s some exploring to do, I think. I’ll take yesterday’s mail as a hint. I received a brand new book of poems, Sonnets with Two Torches and a Cliff, by Robert Thomas. I’m not the only one obsessed with sonnets. Here’s an entire book of them, about 80 of these babies! I’m super excited to dig in, but only a cursory glance through the pages reveals that Mr. Thomas has adhered to possibly ONE key feature of the sonnet: all these poems are 14 lines long, I think. In terms of meter and rhyme, it appears that these poems are pretty much ignoring both. Taking inspiration from these, I may have to experiment with the non-rhyming, anti-iambic in subsequent poems. Not sure I’m ready yet. As loath as I am to be a rule-follower, especially in my writing, there is something kind of comforting about this structure–and maybe that’s the point, both the point about why I keep doing it, and the point about why I should try to break free.

Here’s another poem about trying to get back to a meditation practice. And for now, we’re sticking to the Shakespearean script.

Nine

What if I moved the cushion out into
This new space, and sat, practiced there instead,
The breathing in and out and through,
With Arooj Aftab’s music in my head?
I have no clue what she’s singing about.
It’s not English, but Urdu, and beyond.
That it moves me, there cannot be a doubt;
The melody alone, something whole, round.
She’ll become my smudging ceremony,
She’ll sing the space free of all negative chi;
I’m not completely down with that hooey
But I know the value of a deep breathe. 
I know, it’s simple—all times, all places:
Whatever it takes, to recover these graces.