As all my faithful readers know, I have pronounced it the Season of Revision. That's right! No new stuff until all of the old stuff is reviewed, revised, and published (Maybe?!?) I actually like the editing process because it gives me a chance to see how my brain was working over the past few years. Like many famous poets, I often complain about not having an new ideas or good ideas, but then I look in my Rough Draft folder on my flash drive, and I have 30 or 40 poems. I have even more than that in the Really Rough Draft folder. They seldom make it out. I guess that I will test your memory. Today, I have revised two poems completely and feel comfortable where I have them. See if you can remember how much or how little they have been changed from the original--which I am not going to provide.
As always, Enjoy!
A Cardinal Sin
(unus multorum)
As I lie brooding on my couch,
My senses are all at odds.
I feel that I have lost my touch
With what were once inspiring gods.
(Do I believe in other gods?)
I reckon the makers would be one.
I set no idols before them
Nor worship them as some have done
And in that honor abhor them.
(Who worships idols?)
No siren’s voice will persuade me,
Nor will I be tempted astray
By demons that warble a melody
In a naturally amorous way.
(Can I be seduced by song?)
One who is not against is for,
One who does not slander praises,
Who begs for nothing receives more
Than those who heap empty phrases.
(Are they singing for their supper?)
My cardinal sin is not too deep.
It is a faith I find in words,
A tiny confidence I keep
When I translate the singing birds.
(Have I betrayed the birds?)
By the way, "unus multorum" is Latin for "one of many."
A Song for Rain
(Inspired by but not much like P. Shelley’s The Aziola)
Trilling and trilling and trilling,
The thirsty tree frogs call.
The clouds are blanched light blue not black.
No drops are likely to fall.
The warbling bluebird at my sill,
His throat wrung dry as dust,
Sings wordless psalms to missing rains
Whose absence seems unjust.
Do rain drops fall on all alike?
That’s surely what I’ve heard.
Their sweetness rousing soil and soul
No song has ever stirred.
Far, far sweeter than any hymn,
Their chorus slakes the sky,
But when they do not sing for me,
I bow my head and cry.
Their music, I cannot forget,
Nor how their showers move me,
Dear rain drops show you love me yet,
Or find a way to prove me.
I shall be continuing with these revisions on a daily basis. By the way, are there any artists out there who would like to contribute some artwork to go with these poems? I think that would be cool. Also, as my faithful readers scan these revisions, how about you help me come up with a really attractive name for this collection? I think I will let my readers name the next book when and if I publish it.