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The Sky Within
The rolling sea becomes a frothy lather
When argent Sister Moon calls forth a tide
And sooty billows on the skyline gather.
A flash of lightning urges us inside
Where we observe the phases of our moods,
Uninterested in commonplace diversions,
And when a shadow of a doubt intrudes,
We say that we’re okay with such incursions.
The two things that we know about the weather
Are that, eventually, it’s bound to change
And all of us must ride it out together—
Unending sunny skies are out of range,
And nowhere is a person all alone.
The effort to adapt is often frantic:
Our laden vessels by the wind are blown
Across the (Hah!) Pacific or Atlantic.
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In Our Stars, or in Ourselves?
The perfect plan to set the world aright
__Is something that my brain
____Cannot contain,
And when I’m tossing in my bed at night,
__That blessèd peace of mind
____Is hard to find.
When I am pressed for adequate solutions,
__I question my autonomy,
__Reverting to astronomy
For answers to inimical pollutions.
I take a seat and gaze into the stars,
__Lest fickle winds of fate
____Predominate.
I frequent race tracks and inhabit bars
__To make existence seem
____Less like a dream.
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Nipped in the Bud
You meant to keep me hanging all along,
__For that is just the way you operate.
__No longer do I think we share a fate,
And I cannot believe I was so wrong
About you, falling for your Siren song.
__Although it’s amply clear we’ll never mate
__And lifelong bonds will simply have to wait,
There’s something to be said for being strong.
I’m strong enough to weather deep regret
__Or keep eruptive bygones in the past,
____As if I understood what I am doing,
But sometimes it seems best just to forget
__Entanglements that had no chance to last
____And were, as it turned out, not worth pursuing.
.
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C.B. Anderson was the longtime gardener for the PBS television series, The Victory Garden. Hundreds of his poems have appeared in scores of print and electronic journals out of North America, Great Britain, Ireland, Austria, Australia and India. His collection, Mortal Soup and the Blue Yonder was published in 2013 by White Violet Press.
Really nice gems, with a lot of hidden meanings.
Best regards,
Paddy
It’s hard to hide meaning, Paddy, and please name me a gem that isn’t nice.
“The Sky Within” taps into our inner storms and sometimes feelings of helplessness against the tides and vagaries of ocean currents as we are set adrift.
I thought “In Our Stars, or in Ourselves?” might use the word “astrology,” instead of “astronomy,” but was pleasantly surprised and believe it was indicative of you being well-grounded. On the other hand, I never frequented either racetracks or bars.
“In the Bud” is one of those unrequited love poems of which I am so fond and have written so many myself. As you can tell, I really enjoyed your work.
On your second point, Roy, “astrology” rhymes with “apology,” not “autoomy..” If I am well-grounded, it’s only because I expect soon. to be in the ground. Race tracks are a frivolous diversion, but bars are essential.
Sometimes unrequited love is a blessing
“The Sky Within” has a remarkable way of getting us indoors at the end of the first stanza! But within, it shows serious wisdom about the need to adapt to moods of all kinds. I take it your Hah! filler syllable means that moods are rarely pacific.
“In Our Stars” has a less trustworthy speaker. What can we say of someone who seems to identify peace of mind with a perfect plan to set the world aright? Or frequents race tracks and bars lest the fickle winds of fate predominate? This character is a capable poet but not much of a thinker. Nice picture.
“Nipped in the Bud” is an excellent Petrarchan sonnet that has me wondering what kind of love sequence C. B. Anderson could put together. The great Pierre de Ronsard created three fine and individually distinctive collections, for Cassandre, Marie, and Helene. Extra poems went into his “Amours Diverses.” Your choice would depend on how much you were poetically doing with this entanglement before deciding that it was not worth pursuing.
When lightning strikes, Margaret, it strikes.
Don’t blame the narrator; blame the moody poet.
And don’t expect me to put a love sequence together. I’m just happy that I’m still married. Past hits and misses are water under the bridge.
I have heard that when Balboa saw the Pacific for the first time in 1513, he called it “El Mar Pacifico,” because it seemed so peaceful. He didn’t see it in those places where a typhoon strikes.
Precisely my point, Joseph.
I should add, Margaret, that my “Hah!” was mostly meant as a reflection on a terribly misnamed body of water.
“Nipped in the Bud” struck a nerve with me, as I could relate. I read it several times.
One never knows, Cheryl, how these things will pan out. I hope it was worth rereading.
Well, the storm seems to have exponentially increased the good speed of the voyagers.
You probably know Frost’s poem “Tree At My Window.” Yours has a similar touch. Outer weather can force us to confront and contend with inner weather.
I see you as taking the all but outworn currency of proverbs, like a handful of coins (almost obsolete now), and playing with them, turning them inside out and upside down, shaking the value out of them (or is it back into them?), making them shiny and fascinating again, then putting the whole hoard back into its mystical commonplace pocket of sleep.
Your third paragraph especially intrigued me. It’s a complicated thought, and, yes, that is what I do with old saws — I can’t seem to help myself. Lately I’ve wondered about some of the sayings we grew up with. How do we reconcile “Look before you leap” and “He who hesitates is lost”?
Now I see you juggling saw-toothed saws – and always catching the handles!
“Look but don’t hesitate”?
Three thought-provoking and well-written works. Our skin is really no effective boundary between outer and inner weathers, is it? And in the title of the second poem, I caught the quote from “Julius Caesar,” when Cassius admonishes Brutus that a time comes when individuals, not the stars, are masters of their fate. Very apt title for that one. Well done!
Your thoughts about these poems, Carey, are in accord with my own, and as long as I can hold up I’ll keep churning out similar reflections on the human condition. It’s what I do when I’m not mucking it up in some garden or another.
“The phases of our moods” is a wonderful line! “In Our Stars” has a very original form, which I like very much, as well as fascinating thoughts. And there’s something really insightful, and ingeniously expressed, in “Nipped in the Bud.” Thank you, C.B.
Your appreciation, Cynthia, is very much appreciated. And, yes, there is something to be said for nonce forms. Every fixed form we have today was once a nonce form. As for “Nipped in the Bud”, can you imagine having spent your life with some old boyfriend you long ago moved on from?
These poems are highly entertaining, C.B., and give the reader some insightful points to chew on. “The Sky Within” likens human moods to the weather but does so in a way that is original in both prosody and content. I also was intrigued by that parenthetical “hah” which is put to good ironic use, but I’m also enamored of the lather/gather and frantic/Atlantic rhymes. Most especially I’m intrigued by your reference to “Sister Moon” which for me invokes St. Francis and his Canticle of Brother Sun and Sister Moon. That places the discussion about moods and non-aloneness on a higher plane.
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Nipped in the Bud is a delighful and savvy sonnet which covers the subject of incompatibility in love perfectly.
But it is “In Our Stars” that I find most intriguing – the reference to the perfect plan in perfect iambic pentameter which then gets whittled down to trimeter and then dimeter, presenting a structural parallel to the subject. The “adequate solutions” stanza alters the form and makes the conclusion about who’s NOT in charge loud and clear. Fascinating and memorable.
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My having known about the film, Father Sun, Sister Moon, Brian, “sister” was the only possible choice. Sometimes I wonder what the hell I am doing:
In some ways, these are rather silly poems — language playing with itself, so to speak — and it is helpful to be able to inject a note of seriousness just below the surface.
C.B., I am always drawn to your poetry. Your words are never predictable and always intrigue me. I have fallen in love with this stanza which (I believe) can be taken at face value… or not :
The two things that we know about the weather
Are that, eventually, it’s bound to change
And all of us must ride it out together—
Unending sunny skies are out of range
… but, my favorite of all three is ‘In Our Stars, or in Ourselves?’ I love the aural appeal of stanza 2, but more than that… it speaks to me… loudly and clearly. Perhaps it’s time for me to put the cork back in the bottle and tear up my betting slip. 😉
Great stuff!
No, Susan. Put your betting slip into the bottle, cork it back up, and throw it into the Gulf of Mexico. You don’t have to be a meteorologist to know what the weather is like. If we can make the world we live in a bit more comprehensible for each other, then we have done all that should be expected.