Cheesy Poem with a Cheesy Nautical Metaphor

So tomorrow begins the start of a new term, and so of course I needed to write a poem. The weirdest thing about this year is that I know what to expect, but then I have no idea what it's going to be like. Naturally, what came to mind was the sea. A sailor may think he knows the waters that he frequents, but they are different every day, every voyage, and so the best he can do is assume that anything will be partially familiar and partially chance. Thus I came up with this.

It's nice writing poems again. I usually balk at first, but once I realize that I really should be writing, I let it all flow out. Yay, powers of inertia!

I have been here before,
But in the second time around,
Differences abound.
A wave breaching a familiar shore
And yet aware of little more.

So what can I expect, or brace?
As if the certainty dried out
When the sail came about
And I returned to a place
That thrives in morphing space.

So I close my eyes, let the rope slip,
For I must conserve when needed,
When adversity is greeted,
The weather may be fair this trip,
But many forces damage a ship.

Unpublished Material, ©2011 Cali Digre

Cinco／五

So I have returned to a model that I used a little bit in my last poem project: using two languages in a poem, and then MASHING THEM TOGETHER! Since I have now picked up Japanese as well, I can add it to the mix. And Norwegian will be coming along, eventually, so I'll have SO MUCH FUN! But seriously.

Of course, these poems will have accompanying translations.

This poem didn't really have any specific inspiration today, just felt like mixing some languages up. Note that the Japanese section is a haiku: the "feet" (syllables in English) correspond to kana (Chinese characters, hiragana, katakana, basically each little entity), though I cheated because I do not know some of the kanji, so I just used hiragana syllables instead. HEHE.

Moral: beyond us has much to offer, but we are often afraid.

Si jalaras a la cortina,
¿Qué verías? La esquina
No tiene mucha para oferte,
Quizás seas demasiado confortable.

窓から見て、
けしきが待っている。
一緒に行こう！

(Mado kara mite,
keshiki ga matteiru.
issho ni ikou!

Pero tanto miedo tiene tu espíritu.
ばかだ！こわい過ぎる。
(baka da! kowaisugiru.)

TRANSLATION:
If you pulled at the curtain,
What would you see? The corner
Does not have much to offer you,
Maybe you are too comfortable.

Look from the window.
The scenery is waiting.
Let's go together!

But your spirit has a lot of fear.
You are a fool! You are too afraid.

Unpublished Material, ©2011 Cali Digre

Broken Refrigerator

If only life were quieter, like satin
Unrolling like spring on a pallet,
On a lawn of verdant sunning.
If only life didn’t need to flatten
Me in total silence with a mallet;
Like I knew my fridge wasn’t running.
Too quiet is never good,
Things weren’t breathing when they should.

As if life were cleaner, like white khaki
And a green immune to grass stains,
Or pastels that needn’t fade.
As if life weren’t the tacky
Essences of ignored moldy rains
Pooling where the sour milk stayed.
I guess life is always a mess,
If it weren’t I would learn much less.

I could only wish for no mistakes,
An effortless collection of easy,
Constant migrations of joy.
I could only wish this fridge breaks
Only once, though. But even “breezy”
Is but an anecdotal ploy.
Though my feelings are mixed,
Even refrigerators get fixed.


Unpublished Material, ©2011 Cali Digre

HOW COULD I FORGET

Hello all! I was having so much fun until fifty minutes ago (Friday) that I forgot to write/ post a poem! My apologies; I'll come up with something incredibly special for Tuesday. Anyways, here is a poem I wrote in the summer about some lady I saw waiting in line at a pizza place. Hooray for shallots.


The Shallot Woman

The patio apart with glass,
A waned figure bends in the air,
Her wafer arms and thinning hair,
Her face gaunt from a toxic gas.

The gangrene strikes her legs with care,
As they stretch dimly in the shade
Of the thick branches. There she bade
The waiter leave the bottle there.

A starving hope, conformity
Does pry her body in this shape.
When bound by peers, and bound by tape
She yearns pseudo-proclivity.

The layers painted on her eyes
Are peeled back with introspect.
The tinted lenses all reflect
Her future, past, and present guise.

At what inception? It’s been lost,
The process slow like stretching roots.
The plant bears shiny, flushing fruits
That bloom wild at the tender’s cost.

And yet she knows how hard she fought!
As sheen slides down her waxy cheeks,
She does not know that what she seeks
Has long dissolved, replaced with naught.

The toil of peeling every skin
That she compounded on her soul
Is digging in a finite hole,
With no elusive prize within.

For shallots have no inner piece
Because their hearts have been destroyed
And their independence devoid
To hope acceptance never cease.

And when the soul is locked inside
It suffocates from inward rot.
This tragedy I wish were not:
An injured essence likes to hide.

Unpublished Material, ©2011 Cali Digre