A Moment, Realized
Life is a series of moments, flickering quickly,
soon forgotten as I hurtle myself
toward each new sensory and you, often
with me, eagerly round each bend,
traverse each hill, two souls adventuring
into seconds, minutes, hours. My youth
beats to the rhythm of your hooves,
your name caresses my lips each night
as I pray our connection lasts,
hope we learn to pause more often,
like this morning when you honored me
with your trust, your gentleness -
the moment I realized it is not I who offers up
the greater sacrifice, the greatest gift.
by Margaret Bednar, July 7, 2013
This if written for the "Imaginary Garden with Real Toad's Birthdays in July - The Sonneteers". Two poets are featured. Francesco Petrarch, a traditional sonnet with lots of rules. I fashioned mine after Pablo Neruda whose translated poetry into English is absent of rhyme and iambic meter - the translators for whatever reason did not take the time. What is left is the essence of the poem. For more information, click on the link.
Well, lazy me, I jumped all over the no rhyme, no rhythm route and I apologize as this probably isn't really a sonnet...
Isn't Oberon adorable sleeping like this? He is out all night as the days are so hot and often when we arrive he is napping in his stall (with fan on overhead). My girls have cuddled with him quite a few times - we joke he is like a big dog - he loves the scratching and petting, even gives kisses.
18 comments:
I would certainly call this a sonnet. There is a subtle division between the octave and sestet, and the final lines provide a concluding couplet which packs quite an intellectual punch.
I believe that the sonnet form has much to offer modern writers, if only we move away from the rigidity of the classical rules and make it our own - and you have done that remarkably well. Thanks for participating, Margaret.
If his name is Oberon, your narrator's is Titania, in a moment when they are not arguing! For sure, over and through time his sacrifice lessens as he is taken where he wants to go. What lovely use of the sonnet form,
Love the connection and trust between two souls ~ That last stanza is my favorite part of the sonnet ~ Beautiful work dear ~
Aw, Oberon is adorable, and so is your sonnet, and who cares if it toes every poetic line or not? A little wildness only adds spice.
What a lovely poem and a great homage to Oberon.. Subjectwise it's a sonnet and the flow is great in my opinion
Such a sign of trust and affection-
nice!
so sweet. i love when horses trust you enough for this. my old mare used to.
I love your poem...mine is almost done and I fear I didn't do it right...
Congrats Margaret yours is good and a wonderful subject
I don't care what you call it; this is exquisite, and it spoke directly to my heart.
Susan - we almost bought a mare named Molly. I was going to change her name to Titania :)
I think we are always asking much from a horse's nature. They are a flight, not fight animal. They like open plains, love to roam many miles. We get on their back (an instinctively dangerous thing for them - think cougar), we ask them to trust us and not run from fear, no matter how big the pasture, rarely is it the same vast area they would traverse naturally... it goes on and on.
Yes, horses give up much more than we - become somewhat tame and learn to have affection for us, I hope.
celebratory and an excellent question, Margaret ~ M
Tender, humble. Enjoyed it.
From the very first line this just seemed balanced and full, Margaret. As always, your photos captivate and amaze me. This one not only is visually satisfying, but seems composed and colored to reflect the message of the poem perfectly.
Definitely counts as a sonnet to me! Beautifully expressed what ever the form.
Oberon is so beautiful as your words that qualify as a beautiful sonnet to me.
Margaret - I saw your comment about this piece not falling into the proper form of a sonnet and was at first surprised by that because by any standards it is quite a lovely poem anyway- but then re-read your comment and realized this was written as an sonnet exercise for "The Imaginary Garden....."
Even though I realize that now I still feel compelled to say this... Your poem is simply beautiful - with or without proper form. In my opinion form is simply a fun trick to occupy the mind - like a crossword puzzle - where you can take neat little packages and put them into neat little places where they fall exactly into spaces where they belong. But more often than not I fear the reader's appreciation falls more to the ability of maintaining the form rather than the artist's actual expression.
There are so many facets of life. Good and bad. In this poem you have taken what I believe to be the absolute most wonderful of them all - the "sensory" equivalent of majesty - to borrow your word - which is the very real and beautiful human ability to love and appreciate being loved.... And you did it in such an unobtruse, magnificent way. It's just absolutely beautiful....
But form? :sigh: I don't know... My favorite artist in the world is Auguste Pierre Renoir - a strict artist of impressionism, which in the realm of painting is considered a form, I would guess. But even though it is such a great pleasure to walk a hall and gaze upon his efforts one after another, even I must admit it is quite pleasant to see a wild-assed Picasso stuck in between them occasionally...! Sometimes form robs the artist. Again, just a beautiful piece Margaret...
Ooo...Margaret this is utterly magical...soul rendered indeed. I love that this can be read as few different kinds of relationships...the horse, a human lover, or the divine...in all cases amazing. ♥
As your readers have said ... this is beautiful .. incredibly so.
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