Tag Archives: winter

Sonnet of Pain


Confession time? When I wrote this, I kind of forgot how the structure of a Shakespearean sonnet was supposed to go. It’s ababcdcdefefgg, rather than abbacddceffegg- oops? I think I got it confused with the Petrarchan kind too, abbaabbacdecde. Messy, messy brain. Don’t even get me started on Spenserian sonnets. Jeez. 14 lines, 140 syllables, way too many ways to organize that nonsense.

Sonnet of Pain

Pain in my joints comes and goes like the tide
It swells and jabs at me, icy and burning
There is no relief with seasons changing
No calm sanctuary where I can hide.
A symphony of suffering for me
The rising and falling of storm-tossed waves
No blissful unconsciousness for me saves
From thundering blistering agony.
The crescendo builds, the water rises
Kettledrums in my bones and in my blood
I cannot keep my head above the flood
When all my joints are trapped in vises.
The symphony ends, the waters recede,
But pain never stops as soon as I need.

(C) Bridget Noonan, 2011, 2012.

The transition from autumn to winter was hard here. It went from mild to omg-wtf-it’sfreezing. This came out of that.

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Afternoon in Winter


Afternoon in Winter

Winter: the season for hibernation,
Slowing the heartbeat and metabolism;
A time of early darkness and forgetting.

A torpid season for creatures —
Pudgy black squirrel scrabbles leadenly,
So small when projected against the grim sky.

It seems much easier to forget when
Cold death blankets what lived, and
Ice shrouds windows and walkways.

Now is the time to reflect on the weeks
And the seasons  which have passed me by,
Most of which I would prefer to
Forget.

© Bridget Noonan, 2009, 2012.

This was a weird poem that I had intended to be from the point of view of a tree in the winter, but I cut or changed pretty much all the parts that referenced it, so now I sound like I need a hug.

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Haiku time!


I wish I knew how
to coax out a good haiku
but they won’t bloom here.

Yes, it’s that time again- time for a series of haiku poems. You know you love it.

seasons

1.
if I could stop now
our summer would never end
but time continues

2.
autumn brings colour
heralds the death of the year
and the end of us

3.
snow falls softly now
returns me to a blank slate
winter at its best

4.
fresh green shoots spring forth
from their mother’s warm embrace
I begin again.

© Bridget Noonan, 2012.

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Fibonacci Sequence


I don’t know if all of you know this, but I’m kiiiind of a nerd. That poem I wrote, Subatomic Love, might have clued you in. Or parts of In Daddy’s Genes. I like comic books, video games, Dungeons and Dragons, fantasy and science fiction (it’s SF not sci-fi! haha) in all their various forms like movies novels poetry music art whatever, science of many varieties, and mathematics. This is relevant to poetry, I promise.
In fact, it has been argued that writing itself is a nerdy sort of thing. If that’s true then I never want to be cool. But back to what I was saying.

So, if you know a bit about mathematical concepts, you’re probably familiar with Fibonacci’s sequence. Start with 0 and 1, and you add the second number to the sum of the preceding pair. Like, 0+1 = 1, so the sum of the pair is 1 and the second number is 1. Therefore your next pair is 1 and 1. 1+1=2, then 1+2=3, so 2+3=5, then 3+5=8, then 5+8=13, and on into infinity. 0 1 1 2 3 5 8 13 21 34 55… It’s also a neat way to approximate the golden ratio (works best with the higher numbers, because 8/5=1.60000, but 55/34=1.617647, and then 89/55=1.61818, where the golden ratio is 1.61803, so you can get pretty close if you don’t need a lot of digits), if you’re into irrational numbers. I’m pretty fond of pi. And pie. Mmm, now I want fudge. But ignore that, I’m just hungry :P. Again, this is relevant, aside from the commentary on food.

What it boils down to is that I was bored at work, thinking about numbers and how wonderful they are, when inspiration fell out of the sky like an Acme anvil in a Looney Tunes cartoon.
The Fibonacci sequence is all whole numbers, right? So I can use it for poetry form.

For example, you can use the first bunch of numbers as your limits on words or syllables per line:

(for the purposes of poetry, I feel comfortable omitting the zero in my count)
Fibonacci Poetry #1 

warmth (1)
brings (1)
croci (2)
peeking out (3)
from beneath the snow, (5)
thriving while the world is asleep; (8)
Eliot was so wrong about April’s cruelty. (13)

© Bridget Noonan, 2011.

Or, you can get a little crazy with it. I was thinking about symmetry and palindromes as well, which is what I worked into this one. I work retail; if I don’t exercise my brain regularly, I’ll become another automaton going through the motions of life, and I’m way too young to give up, to no longer want “to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life”. Fuck that, I’m here, and I live deliberately. Regret is for other people.
So here’s another thing I was doodling between customers. Words this time, rather than syllables. I thought I’d give both a shot.

Fibonacci Poetry #2

help! (1)
your (1)
beauty is (2)
suffocating in its (3)
intensity; I can’t breathe in (5)
or out unless (3)
I close (2)
my (1)
eyes. (1)

© Bridget Noonan, 2011.

Whaddaya think? It’s probably not a new idea, but I like it. I’m probably going to write some more like this, because math is fun.

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blah day


I’m not quite sure what I call this one.

???

outside my window there is
little more than grey drizzle
on gritty snow; this purgatory,
not quite winter, but not yet spring,
stifles any attempt to live in it.
this brown snow is winter’s spray tan,
a sad attempt to hang onto a passing season;
wrinkled at the eyes, forehead and lips,
caked in foundation and false eyelashes.

© Bridget Noonan, 2011.

Feel like crap today. I dragged myself into work after an attempt to call in sick. Apparently puking off and on all morning is a picnic, and I am an indispensable cog for the machine leading up to zombie Jesus day. Never mind that staying home and resting will ensure that I’ll be 100% for Saturday’s insanity.

Whatever, fuck it. I’m going to sleep.

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the Seasons Personified


Okay, so it’s not technically Wednesday anymore; I’m okay with that. I’m still posting a response to the Three Word Wednesday http://www.threewordwednesday.com/2011/04/3ww-ccxxxvi.html prompt.

The Seasons Personified

the last time I saw Spring
we had a tickle war and
she laughed and squealed
until she vomited violets
all over my lawn.

still, that’s better than
Winter’s cold tragic embrace;
evidently, he  hasn’t forgiven me
for hiding snowballs
in my freezer to scare Summer.

Autumn and I get along best,
I find, because neither of us
is deluded enough to think
that our time together is anything
more than an illusion.

© Bridget Noonan, 2011

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