.

Unopened Letters

Unopened letters strewn across the floor
Addressed to me with your name on the back.
Left where they fell inside my slotted door.
A postal service-aided sneak attack.

I step on them with smug indifference,
Rejecting your repentance with distain.
A callous disregard my best defense
From facing both my anger and my pain.

I wish the thought of you would go away.
Revulsion and desire admixed as one.
Our hopes and dreams erased on that dark day
When I discovered all that you had done.

My broken heart now cold and hard as stone;
Embittered, unforgiving and alone.

.

.

Ships in the Night

She dressed up smart in hope she’d meet a guy.
He did the same and hoped to meet a gal.
At Zeno’s Bar she heard someone say, “Hi!”
Her aunt!—She’d rather have a root canal!

At Marty’s Grill on the same side of town
He nursed a beer and spent the night alone.
At 1 a.m. they both left, feeling down,
Each on the same bus, staring at their phone.

They lived in the same building—the same floor.
They mumbled, “Hey,” while walking side by side.
Without a glance they each passed through their door
While entertaining thoughts of suicide.

Each Friday night they go and do the same,
And neither of them knows the other’s name.

.

.

The Butterfly Effect

He took the bus to work that day because
his car was in the shop. The bus was crowd-
ed so he grabbed a pole and stood. There was
a homeless man who cursed and swore so loud-
ly that he moved up front to change the view
and stood next to a woman with an i-
Pad in her hand. She turned and smiled: “Have you,”
read Salinger’s The Catcher in the Rye?”
“Why, yes I have.” he said. And ever since—
although it may or may not make much sense—
his life, because of this coincidence,
became an unintended consequence.
For that is how he met his future wife—
A lube and oil change that transformed his life.

.

.

James A. Tweedie is a retired pastor living in Long Beach, Washington. He has written and published six novels, one collection of short stories, and four collections of poetry including Sidekicks, Mostly Sonnets, and Laughing Matters, all with Dunecrest Press. His poems have been published nationally and internationally in both print and online media. He was honored with being chosen as the winner of the 2021 SCP International Poetry Competition.

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21 Responses

  1. Joseph S. Salemi

    I can’t help seeing these three as sequential: the first is about a dead love; the second is about a potential love that never happened; and the third is about a love that blossomed into marriage. The first two are extremely well done, but in the third I dislike the breaking of a final word at a line’s closure to carry over the syllable to the next line, and I think the word “that” can be omitted in the last line of the poem, with no grammatical difficulties, and with an improvement in the meter.

    Never screw around with meter when you are at closure.

    Reply
    • Julian D. Woodruff

      I normally agree with you, Joseph, on the breaking of a word at line’s end, completing it to start the next line– though here there may be an attempt to have the trick suggest “and then … and then … and then …” (didn’t CB Anderson do something like this in a recent post?).
      But what about that last line? Dropping the relative would seem to change the emphasis from the cause of change to the process (poet’s choice), but how is the meter improved by dropping the syllable count from 10 to 9?

      Reply
      • Joseph S. Salemi

        Leaving out the “that” in the last line transforms the last line grammatically into an apposition that answers the implied question in the penultimate line, i.e. “What brought about his meeting with his future wife?”

        As I read the fixed line, it goes like this:

        a LUBE and OI-il CHANGE transFORMED his LIFE. (ten syllables, perfect iambic meter)

        You have the choice, as a reader, to scan “oil” as one syllable or two. The same is true for words like “fire” or “sire.” But in this case even if you read it as one syllable, the line is awkward:

        a LUBE and OIL change THAT transFORMED his LIFE.

        If you scan it this way, there is the unfortunate stress on the relative pronoun THAT — something that is normally avoided.

  2. Russel Winick

    I particularly liked Unopened Letters and Ships in the Night. Who hasn’t experienced the former, and wondered about the latter? Thank you for sharing this fine work.

    Reply
  3. Cynthia Erlandson

    These are all such interesting situations, and insightful ways of portraying them and the emotions they evoke. The first starts with a stark and perplexing image that leads to heartbreaking reactions. Its last powerful line perfectly follows the final word of the previous line: it leaves the reader with the feeling that a heavy stone has dropped. “Ships in the Night” has so much pathos, especially in that we sense that these things most certainly happen every day to many people, because of the isolated ways of life our society has developed recently. I love the surprise turn in the third poem, when a salutary conversation begins because two people were able to discuss a book (even if it was being read off an ipad). This is a wonderful poetic threesome.

    Reply
    • Julian D. Woodruff

      Even after the foregoing 12 lines, the ending of the 1st is arrestingly stark.
      The 2nd suggests to me the urban nocturnal loneliness of some of Hooper’s paintings–a metaphor for the isolation of modern society generally, if that’s not too trite.
      The 3rd is beyond the pale, or nearly so: the guy moves away from the “homeless man” (for the view?) and the as yet unmet future wife strikes up a conversation just like that? Maybe it could have happened to Alain Delon or Robert Redford in his prime–definitely not to me (infortunately).

      Reply
  4. Paul A. Freeman

    A rollercoaster of emotion in these three sonnets, all leading up to a happy ending.

    Great stuff.

    Reply
  5. Roy Eugene Peterson

    “Unopened Letters:” I love the phrase postal service-aided sneak attack.” I must admit I would be curious about what is inside those letters.
    “Ships in the Night” is a perfect urban drama that must play out every night somewhere. My only question is since they are so close and see each other all the time, they must have made a decision about the looks and demeanor of the other.
    “The Butterfly Effect” is serendipity at its finest. My experience was I wanted to go to another city to buy my first car, a red Chevy Impala, but dad stopped at the Dodge dealership and had already arranged a deal for a putrid brown used Dodge Seneca. While walking the street in disgust, I met a girl that became my wife, since I asked for her phone number. I would have been happier in life with my red Chevy Impala and a different wife.

    Reply
  6. Alan Orsborn

    I had nearly the same thoughts as Joseph, the three poems seem connected, they are all well done, but there is the one issue of that annoying “that” in the final line of the three that isn’t really necessary to the meaning and can be easily eliminated.

    I can’t imagine the depth of the emotions being experienced by the narrator of the first poem. Deep and dark. There is betrayal there. In the second poem, you capture such a sense of ennui and detachment, what a waste. The third poem is pleasant, full of light, love is offered, love is returned, and meeting over an oil change, something so sublime over something so mundane, very original. It made me think of our local garage, Box K. 😉 I could see love blooming there.

    Reply
  7. Alan Orsborn

    PS, Distain was nice, although I had to look it up. I look up a lot of words reading poems on this site. I hope you are enjoying your cruise and seeing amazing Northern Lights.

    Reply
    • James A. Tweedie

      I have, in the past been corrected for counting a one-syllable word as two and now corrected for counting it as one (with the attendant “that” added as syllabic correction). It was a coin flip at my end and apparently it came up heads when I called tales. As for splitting end word I am a whimsical fan of such. In a more serious-toned poem I avoid it.

      As always, I welcome comments and helpful critique of my poems while knowing full well that one person’s sublet’s is another’s shibboleth.

      Reply
      • Joseph S. Salemi

        Sometimes a word can be read as one syllable, and sometimes as two. The choice that the poet makes is based purely on the exigencies of meter, and not on anything that the dictionary says. I hope that’s helpful.

      • Russel Winick

        Joseph – That’s extremely helpful to me. I’ve often wanted to use, in poems, words like “world” and “hours,” which most folks in my neck of the woods pronounce with two syllables, but felt that I should avoid doing so because the dictionary, and syllable websites, say that they have only one syllable. Your enlightenment, if Evan agrees, would open up some helpful new horizons for me. Thank you!

      • Joseph S. Salemi

        Dear Russel —

        Dialect variations account for many of these ambiguities. I can only write in my own New York dialect when I compose, though on some occasions I will choose a different idiom for some aesthetic purpose, or for a comic effect.

        “World or wor-uld,” “fire” or “fi-urr,” “federal” or “fed-rull,” “hours” or “how-urrs” — it’s not a major issue, as long as we have educated readers who understand that they have a latitude in scanning a line, and who will silently read a word in the manner that best suits the meter. The same is true for rhyme. Many of Shakespeare’s couplets no longer rhyme, since pronunciation has changed since his day. But educated readers still enjoy his work, and when they read it they simply ignore the fact that what rhymed for him no longer rhymes for us.

        My criticism of the last line in Tweedie’s third poem was not primarily about whether “oil” has one or two syllables. The real issue was that if one chooses to read the word as one syllable, the metrical stress in the line would fall on “that,” making for an awkward and inept line. Choosing the alternative disyllabic pronunciation, and dropping the stressed “that,” would simply make for a better and more effective line.

        The crucial thing that should concern any poet is EFFECT — i.e., what aesthetic effect is the flow of your line having on an educated reader. Not truth, not goodness, not philosophy, not ideological argument, not religious commitment, not theories, and certainly not what some dictionary says about where syllable division should be placed in words with ambivalent pronunciation! What sounds better (more fluent, more idiomatic, more elegant, more polished) is the touchstone for judging effectiveness.

      • Russel Winick

        Thank you Professor – this is magnificent information for me!

  8. Shamik Banerjee

    These are very impactful sonnets; light in composition, yet they evoke great sentiments. Apart from their precision and fluidity, they tell the truths: disloyalty, melancholy, and luck. The second poem ends with an unexpected surprise; hence, it’s my favourite one. The third poem reminded me of an old adage one my relatives used to say: nothing is a coincidence. Beautiful work, Mr. Tweedie. Thank you!

    Reply
  9. Julian D. Woodruff

    Perhaps, as you hint, James, there is a contextual element involved in choices like these. I have to admit, I wouldn’t have thought of oil as a 2-syllable word except perhaps as an expedient for rhyming the end of a line (e.g., loyal / oil). But I have to wonder if such a strategy would make some critics’ blood start to boyal.
    On the propriety of the accentual placement of “that” or other relatives, or prepositions, maybe such quasi-accentuation is more frowned upon in lyric poetry than it is in narrative or dramatic poetry etc. (The 1st instance that came to mind was “… made glorious [2 syllables] summer BY this son of York.” But I’m only guessing.

    Reply
  10. Margaret Coats

    You’ve called up three differing situations, James, and three displays of strong emotion. With “coincidence” supposedly having a great part in the last, we wonder how it might have worked to bring about the anger and despair in the first two. Thus as a group, I can imagine a sequence that might tell more, but it is certainly quite different than any ordinary sonnet sequence, in which inner feelings are given outward description in a generally conventional manner lacking much consideration of narrative development. You’ve accomplished that in a unique way with these apparent contrasts.

    Reply
  11. Adam Sedia

    Fun and clever pieces. I particularly liked “Ships in the Night” – could there be a better portrayal of the current state of relationships?

    Reply
  12. Daniel Kemper

    I just wanted to throw in and say how much I enjoyed “The Butterfly Effect.” I wasn’t sure how widely known that was. I liked the rhymes broken over the end of the line, a resourceful tactic many shy away from. I think it adds a lot and is good to have in one’s poetic quiver.

    I liked the narrative and I like happy endings. Done with craft, as here.

    Yay!

    Reply
  13. David Whippman

    “Ships in the Night” is a poignant story-poem; we seek happiness yet ignore it when it’s right before us. “The Butterfly Effect” explores the fascinating world of alternatives: if this or that happened, or didn’t happen, everything would be different. Well written.

    Reply

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