Sonnet: Vines and Rock

AHHHH sorry everyone! I totally forgot to post yesterday. The parents are on the campus for parent festivities, so I've been scrambling and eating good food that isn't Dartmouth Dining Service. Thank. God.
Oddly enough, I wrote this poem in Tuesday... right after I said I wouldn't be posting twice a week anymore.
Also oddly enough, I have like nothing to do this weekend, so a poem or two may get done.
Finally, this is a sonnet. I haven't written a sonnet in literally a year. Yeah. Don't write them often.

A wall has stood, quite fortified for years,
A civil engineer’s endearing art.
The charm is that its rock face makes frontiers
For quiet vines to nestle in its heart.
When made of stone, one’s shortcomings seem scant,
That pain is only someone’s simile.
But elements are kinder on a plant,
As if they recognize a family.
The sun, the day, the rain weigh down the time,
And what erodes the wall gives to the seed.
When all is said and done, concrete is grime,
And the organic finally is freed.
The green dissolves the harder slate of gray.
These fingers that adapt survive the day.

Unpublished Material, ©2011 Cali Digre

Flower Bouquet

In a Nalgene
Bowing towards
My window, this
Bouquet’s green
Leaves. What affords
A sun’s noon kiss?

The stems hollow,
Absorbing water
Is a fruitless task.
The heads will follow,
A wilted daughter,
An aging mask.

But yet their tone,
Their optimism in
The petals that reach.
Their hope alone
Is a prism in
A grayscale speech.


Unpublished Material, ©2011 Cali Digre

So....

Revised Schedule!
This semester has been crazy difficult for me, so I don't have enough time to write poems TWICE a week. Trust me, I'd LOVE to, but it's not something I'll be able to maintain at this time. Maybe in the summer I'll have more time.
So now I'm just gonna be posting Fridays. Yay Fridays. Something to look forward I suppose...

Dartmouth Appreciation Poem

So right now Dartmouth is having Dimensions for all the prospies who could potentially come here. Seeing them run around made me think about where I was a year ago, and how I had (almost) never thought of being here now. And how fortunate I am to be here. Yay nostalgia. Yay prospies.

Also if the rhythm and structure seem familiar, it's because I blatantly copied Robert Frost's "Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening" because I was too lazy to come up with my own structure. Also it seemed fitting because Frost went to Dartmouth for 3 months before he dropped out to take care of his mom. So.. another Dartmouth connection! So metaphysical.


When from a year I am detached,
Nostalgia cannot quite be matched.
Believe in life’s telicity,
A chance that I wisely had snatched.

Emotional simplicity,
And joy’s unkempt felicity
Could do no good service to sing.
Oh, too much electricity.

A pity to forget a spring
When one answer was everything,
When one choice had power to steer
The way even a cloud could fling.

Uncertainty predestines fear,
A shadowed future. In a year
How did I ever end up here?
How did I ever end up here?

Unpublished Material, ©2011 Cali Digre

storm clouds

So it's been both storming and beautiful here, so I figured it'd be appropriate to post this poem about a spring thunderstorm I wrote last May. Yay storms. Yay.... walking in the rain.

storm clouds

whatever Verdant in our mists
tonight lies prey to grips severe
and splinters borne out from fists
of a thunderhead austere.
the air is trembling in fear.

the hairs rise straight on backs of Grass
and the blades sharpen and hum a tune,
synonymous with the pitch of glass
clamoring in the choir of june,
far too loud to spy the moon.

white flowers are born from Sickly skies
and bloom downwards in a spiral of mirth.
the pearls as petals fall in guise
to give false richness to the earth
as clouds draw close to cinch and girth.

in curtains too wet to be couth
this much i learn from heavy scenes,
for this is thunderstorm time’s truth:
since the wind does carry the Leaves it gleans,
violence is attracted to Greens.

Unpublished Material, ©2011 Cali Digre

Parables of Dawn: Part II

So as promised, I am posting the second part of the dawn poem that I wrote the morning after I graduated from high school. Partly because I like continuity, partly because it's finally sunny here again, partly because I feel in no mood to stretch my creative tendrils. I posted the other one exactly a month ago, which I swear was not particularly planned. Enjoy!


Gentle sheets cut short my view
Of anything beyond the swing.
The murk obstructs whatever pleasant thing
May occur in the frivolities of dawn today.
The blankets lie dependently too,
Weighing down the trees with gray.

Disowned songs wander in the mist,
Looking for their owners, birds and the like.
The grass scowls from how my feet spike
Its lanugo without any real thought.
I’m sure it could archive its twist
And how against my weight it fought.

The milky film stretched before my eyes
Is not infallible like it seems
As the color settles to cleaner creams
Until the foreground is augmented.
The sheet drops til it lightly lies
Above where the grass has relented.

The grass fondly absorbs the curtain
Until no thread of it remains,
And each grass blade fully contains
A drop of moisture, the soothing dew.
The grass is happy, I am certain,
And I admire the unmuted view.

Haze is never one to linger
And when it leaves, it leaves in good:
The grass is quenched where I had stood.
The pureness glistens on each blade.
The lawn stretches its every finger
Towards the sun that morning made.

Unpublished Material, ©2011 Cali Digre

Endless Rain

I've been writing a lot about the weather lately, but it's been so crazy here that I feel like I can't neglect it. It has been raining/ sleeting for about two days straight, and I cannot say that I'm pleased. I could use some UVA.


Sleet can carry endless weight
That deposits on the bank of snow.
Their muffled march and damage innate
On everything with sanguine glow
Is responsible for the landscape’s state.
Their numbers too boundless to flaunt,
Trees and snow and I go gaunt.

Inceptions, ends have no real value
In a spell like this. One drop falls
As another forms. They make two,
A third one, as it shatters, calls
For imperialism of the few
Puddle places. They may be clever,
But surely it cannot rain forever.

Unpublished Material, ©2011 Cali Digre

So... It's snowing again.

So much for the last post... haha. This would happen on April 1st too. Thanks, Mother Nature.



Buds recede and browns prevail.
Back to what resisted switching
Climates. Back to dry leaves twitching.
Back to what is four months stale,
Flora scoffs at spring’s first fail.

Early-rising birch trees sweep
To get the new snow off the old.
They feel betrayal. They were told
That their eagerness could keep.
But now they must go back to sleep.

In flake’s pace green decays to sooty
Colors softened, shades of gray,
Thoughts that spring was here to stay.
Outraged guile may be my duty,
But how could I ever hate such beauty?

Unpublished Material, ©2011 Cali Digre