I had to chuckle at a comment from a friend who expressed appreciation for one of my contemporary poems: "What a
blessing it must be to be able to just sit down and let those words flow onto
paper!"
NOT! I must correct that.
NOT! I must correct that.
That would not only be a blessing but a miracle! That's not the way my creative juices flow. Writing one poem may begin with a kernel idea, a thought. But after putting something down on paper there follows sometimes 6 plus hours of concentrated work--the editing seems endless. I examine each word and phrase and polish and rewrite until it has little resemblance to the original draft. And I am never satisfied. Each time I look at it, I revise again, try to choose better words.
My rhyming is usually internal within the phrases, not consistently at the end of a line. I write sense lines in free verse, not metered, and use alliteration and like-sounding words to develop my thoughts. I rely heavily on the 5 senses and emotion. Note examples below: "sallow/sun/snuggles" and "comfy coverlet" "blazing/brilliance/bouncing" -- that sort of thing. (I taught free verse poetry workshops at writers conferences so I try to do more than dash off a few lines and call it a poem.
This is just to let you know that a poem is like a musical composition or an artist's painting, not off the top of one's head. Actually, I paint with words too.
Two
Spring
Dawn
Poems
by Leona
Choy
SPRING
REVEILLE
On muted winter
mornings
the sallow sun snuggles
lazily
beneath the comfy coverlet of
night
reluctant to leave his bed of
stars
and down-filled comforter of
clouds.
I love to sleep late
deep under my cozy patchwork
counterpane
unaware of hazy late morning
light
oblivious to my alarm
clock
snoozing silently with
me
in its “long doze”
mode.
But now in
spring
the sun flings off his
blanket
and rises swiftly
from his restless
sleep
with blazing brilliance
bouncing up
the rosy steps of
day
scaling the Blue Ridge
mountains
in a matter of
minutes
framed in my eastern
window.
How do I know?
Because the sun teases
me
by turning on dawn's
light
long before six
and sounding a
reveille
of chirping birds
compelling me to wake and
witness
his daily solar
spectacle
and not be late to
appreciate
another splendid Virginia
dawn.
CREATION'S CHORUS
(My
meditation on Psalm 19, The perfect Revelation
of the Lord 'to the Chief Musician.' A Psalm of David
of the Lord 'to the Chief Musician.' A Psalm of David
Dawn lingers impatiently on the horizon
eager to cast off her robes
of night.
The sun yawns one last
time
and turns his face to
heaven
magnetically drawn to the
skies
in adoration of his
Creator
then rises in jubilant
splendor
to glorify
God:
“The heavens declare the
glory of God.”
Earth stirs with myriad
life:
flowers open fragile
petals
wet with grateful
dew-tears
for the light of another
day
to display God
magnificence
and His miracle touch to
quicken
all the slumbering earth
for its tasks:
“The firmament shows His
handiwork.”
Each new day utters
psalms
speaking forth its
gratitude for being
sustained and ordered by
God.
Night after night shows
Divine patterns.
Nowhere is their
witness
hidden from human
eyes.
“Day unto day utters
speech
and night unto night
shows forth knowledge.”
Man, who looks upon these
wonders
joins joyfully in
unison
with earth and heaven
above
to proclaim God's majesty
and power
and overwhelming
love—
and so do
I!
***
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