Linda's Literary Home

Tag: faith

  • Malcolm M. Sedam’s Book “Between Wars”  

    Between Wars  

    Published by Paul Edward Pross, Chicago, 1967.

    1 DECLARATION

    I believe
    In fact I know it is so
    That the time for acting has come
    And I must play all of the parts;
    Cast in this trauma of lines
    The danger of saying too much
    Yet I fear more
    That silence or soliloquy
    That deadens the soul,
    So I grow more and less
    Baptized with fire
    Searching for a purpose
    In pleasure and pain
    Moving always toward the unknown —
    I will be lover — poet — warrior —
    Warmer — wiser — dead
    But on this stage all truth is shown
    And now I know why I was born
    Neither too young nor too old
    Just right for this war.

    2 DEATH SONG

    The sun will shine in the sky forever . . .
       I emptied my guns while I bled —
    The earth will grow new grass forever . . .
       I plunged to the ground in flames —
    Mr. Fugi will rise from the plain forever . . .
       Let my bones rest on her side.

    3 DEATH OF A MARINE

    Watching the imperial call
    Draining away his will
    The thing I remember most:
    The incredible blue of his eyes,
    More than the blood-soaked shirt
    More than the shell-torn isle
    More than the greater war
    In our last words:
    “You’ll see a better day, “ I started;
    He smiled and was gone.

    4 FOR FREEDOM

    How fantastic is war
    But more the military mind,
    That epitome of pride
    That turns the Spartan mill
    And grinds everything
    Into a grey nothing . . .
    Remembering how we looked
    As a measureless mass
    And knew we no longer existed.

    5 BEAUTY

    (Years Later)

    It was a long time ago
                          it seems
    The gilded daisy of plane with props
    The heights
    And damned desire to live —
                            almost as if
    The training tales were true
    The stimulus of danger
    The belonging
    Flying for something greater —
                           It’s strange
    The things you think about
    God . . . Mr. Fugi
    And Dave Sherrin
    High wide and blown from his glory.

    6 INTERRGATION

    I stand arrayed
    As if for one last flight
    Giving everything
    Even my thoughts
    Of that spectacular place and time;
    I saw a vision
    Eternal as Fugi
    Framed in the eyes of man
    Then I remember
    A swift and violent scene
    A flaming plane
    Disintegrating . . .
    Against the perfect whiteness
    I was forced to believe
    That there were no gods.

    7 RENDEZVOUS AT MT. FUJI

    Vectored
    Into eternity
    The legend fell
    As the Japanese morning
    Disappeared into the hills,
    We
    With the look of eagles
    Discovered ourselves skyward
    Taught beyond our will —
    There
    In the advent of blood
    We formed the incongruous ring
    Of our childhood days,
    We were the smallest things
    Bare understandings
    Circling a stranger god —
    Again
    The old apprehension
    Turned on the honor point,
    Climbing
    Throttles forward
    Our endurance
    Shuddered under the weight —
    Heading
    Toward that unknown fastness
    The sun lined our cry
    With the last whisper of spring,
    We were old at twenty-three —
    It was a good day to die.


    8 SECOND COMING

    And it came to pass
    In those days, that he returned
    And they recognized him not
    But thought he was a traveler
    And inquired of his ways;
    And said unto them:
    “I am looking for Prester John,
    There must be a Christian here somewhere.”

    9 ABRAHAM AT MORIAH

    Trusting His promise:
    Unto thy seed will I give this land;
    I went on and on believing
    That my descendants would be, many
    Like the sands among the sea,
    That He would make of me a great nation;
    I sired a son when I was very old,
    Proved I had magical powers 

    Perhaps so great I challenged even His,
    For jealously He asked me for this son;
    My will divined the purpose of the Rod,
    No man would kill his son for any God,
    And knowing well His promise I had blessed
    I thought it time to put Him to a test —
    And so with Isaac I traveled to that place
    And took along a ram
    Just in case . . . 

    10  AL BARGAHER

    When that burst of flak
    Tore off your wing
    And sent you spinning through the sky,
    You looked just like a maple seed
    Floating into the water
    On a bright May day.

    I’m sorry you were chosen
    To remind me of Spring.

    11 NO GREATER LOVE HATH . . . 

    Flying
    Toward the strange white night
    We thought of deliverance from the terror of choice,
    The difference
    The splendor of our scheme
    We could not sleep and refuse tomorrow’s voice;
    Compelled
    We thrust the unknown
    With outstretched wings, a naked bond between
    And then a distant light when we had come alive —
    A flame burst over the harsh beauty of the sea
    And Keith was gone.

    12 LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT

    I  God Being of sound mind and body
    (And quite tired of it all)
    Do hereby give, devise and bequeath
    To Adam and Eve and family
    One restored garden
    With a snake-proof fence.

    13 WHEN I DIE

    When I die
    Grant me the infinite peace which comes only
    From thoroughly confounding my aggravators;
    Mask me in a grin,
    Then place me in an upright position
    With my face pointing toward the East
    And my hand extended with thumb at nose,
    Respectfully of course,
    And if perchance it is decreed
    I took more from this world than I gave,
    Display me . . . and charge admission.

    14 MIGRATION

    I have walked the hills for years
    And have never seen a burning bush
    Though I have seen a few miracles,
    So call me a pantheist if you will,
    For I know it makes you feel better
    To know that I believe in something;

    You think that you hear the grass grow,
    But Genesis and Spinoza told me nothing —
    I saw it!  The mosquito drinking may blood,
    The oriole weaving its basket nest,
    And I rose from the reflective trees,
    Lemming-like swimming in the sky,
    Until I filtered into the plan
    Of orderly defeat and exquisite show;

    I breathed the thin pure air
    And suffocated from the strange loneliness.

    15 GREEN JOURNEY

    Once out of the Garden
    Let us beguile ourselves
    And dwell in simple things,
    This liberation,
    The tree beyond the knowledge
    A pleasure in finding
    The smallest caring
    Swift brilliance
    Run and flow
    Spontaneity
    Where life came as it must
    With a promise
    Of rhythm in body and soul —
    Bring forth the child
    That we may have miracles
    A poem again in our keeping
    That from the earth grows immortal.

    16 BLOOD BROTHERS

    We
    Who had never learned patience
    Rose from the cloistered walls
    Became the searchers
    Creation born
    Became the sufferers
    Torn from the fact of the sun;
    Icarus
    Would they believe
    What you and I have known:
    We dare and fell from grace
    But we have flown.

    17 THE RESURRECTION

    (Painting an Easter Storm)

    A crucified beam
    Slants from the moon-gate
    Over the drift of death

    Blue . . . is water

    The mist merges
    A stormed excitement
    With the low hills

    Green . . . is land

    The naked trees
    Shed their limbs
    In the wetted wood

    Yellow . . . is light

    New lines of urge
    Rise to the call
    Of the winds

    Red . . . is life

    Huge doors
    Open the sky
    To the returning sun

    Clear . . . is time.

    18 MATURITY PAINS

    I have resolved my quarrel with the snake
    And I will accept him a one of God’s creatures
    But with the bit of a small boy that is left in me,
    You may expect that I will from year to year,
    Throw a few rocks in His direction.

    19 CAIN’S WIFE

    I remember the first time I saw him
    Walking along the life’s enormous weight,
    His memory bore a mark troubled and dark
    As if he had been punished by the Sun;
    Out of the dread night, I heard him cry;
    “Murderer, I am a murderer!”
    But I knew not of theses words,
    Only the sound of his loneliness
    That his separation was death;
    “Who are you?” he asked unknowing
    That want had begotten me
    “And where did you come from?”
    And I could not answer him
    But offered him my warmth —

    Then silently along the earthly footpath
    Creation’s ghost returned
    Infinitely old, eternally new
    Spawned from the myriad cells
    That matched our difference,
    And finally he closed his eyes
    And saw the magic of existence

    The woman that God had not explained;
    At dawn
    His affirmation turned from the bitter wind
    And together we walked into a promised land
    Where life gave unto life
    And we were born.


    20 ORGANIZATION GOD

    Perhaps you will understand
    Your place in the new order
    Now that you realize
    That we have created you
    In our own image;

    Let us say
    That you were kicked upstairs
    And there you all stay
    Until we call upon you
    To lead our bloody schemes.

    21 DOCTRINE OF ORIGINAL SEX

    Hear me now
    All those who bow
    The plight I will explain
    It was like this:  In time
    I stood against the wind
    And called his name,
    In faith he came
    And in faith he fell
    But he knew —
    Only God was naive.

    22 ESAU ISAACSON

    Proprietor and Sole owner

    Originally we were a family concern
    A monopoly of sorts
    Dealers in asses and goats
    And backed by the highest O. T. Agency;
    Grandfather founded the firm own principles:
    Never trust nobody, not even relatives
    But father forgot and so did I
    Lost out in a take-over bid
    When Mother voted her stock;
    You remember that brother of mine
    The one with hairy schemes,
    Went right up to the top
    Until the crash caught up with him
    But let me tell you about that:
    In time I wrestled for control,
    Lost again, threw in with him
    And let him run it by the Book;
    I was the junior partner, a very minor sort
    But through my Philistine friends
    I learned the art of selling short;
    Then opportunity came
    Jakie told me about this scheme
    The hairiest one of all
    Something about a ladder
    To a golden street, a steal . . .
    I said, “Brother, it’s a deal!
    At last we’re seeing eye for eye”;
    I even waived the matter,
    How and when to cut the pie,
    What matter . . . I held the ladder.

    23 GOLGOTHA

    (For Mary, One of my Students)

    When I proclaim the world is flat
    And that I’m searching for an edge
    I am only rounding a vision for you;
    I stand, a son of man, not God
    And I could be called Paul as we as Peter:
    I speak for our sons and daughters
    And had I known, it should be thus explained:
    That we have all failed in our historical sense,
    There was manipulation at the manger
    Saul died on the way to Damascus
    And Simon was wholly afraid;
    Only from that shipwreck of faith
    Did l learn to walk upon the water
    So what matter, then, you call me in this place
    A heretic, to give the cup and cross
    For I accept, knowing
    I can live through a long series of deaths
    Believing in your all-essential good
    And would not change your world in any way
    Except to lead you gently into spring.

    24 RHYTHM METHOD

    Poetry is a human trait
    We fall into it
    Naturally
    Inevitably
    Stroke a few lines
    Then peter out.

    25 ZEN

    (For W. H. Auden)

    When
    From the mountains of choice
    I asked the sage
    The nature of my plight,
    He replied:  Leap!
    And I cried:  Unwise!
    He knew I had no wings
    Yet I complied,
    And in time I found
    He had had tricked me into flight.

    26 TO CATHÉ

    (Who sits on the front row)

    I cannot fail
    To see in you unmistakable goodness
    When you ask:
    “Why don’t you write nice poetry”
    And regretfully
    I’ve seen the world this way
    And worse —
    Perhaps, though, there’s a hope —
    Your innocence tells me
    I should not fail
    To write that nice poem . . . tomorrow.

    27 RAIN

    . . . and I came
    With the storm
    And let you take me
    High and against the sun
    To create in you
    An immortality
    From the first clouds
    Becoming
    All lost worlds
    Of bright togethers
    In warring winds
    And flaming sounds —
    Then I
    The emptied one
    Fell down in the sky
    Unforgiven by time.

    28 CASCADE

    Here
    Where the river starts
    From the snow forgotten
    I float motionless
    At the moon-beak—
    Below
    An intensity rises
    A blood theme
    In a summer swirl —
    The day comes
    Bringing only
    A promise of the hills
    Behold!
    I too shall create!

    29 WHY

    When was it when
    We were condemned
    To be free and lost
    To our instincts
    Knowing
    How it is how
    we are severed
    And sewn shut
    With abstracts
    Threading
    Where it was where
    We were given
    To choose and lose
    In the grandeur of want?

    30 GADFLY

    Dangling
            in the intricate maze
    Struggling
            in the evening web
    Drowning
            in the jeweled dew
    Knowing
            the spider will be here soon
    But that
            flies have all the fun.

    31 WHERE IN THE EARTH’S CONSCIENCE

    Where in the earth’s conscience
    Can we justify ourselves?
    Our day has wandered away
    The mysterious night is here
    Out of this memory of breaking strings
    We will save nothing —
    Then who shall we blame
    New or never
    Knowing that someday we’ll say goodbye
    Like . . . tomorrow.

    32 DR. LINCOLN PRESCRIBES:

    “With malice toward none
    And charity for some
    And a big tube of ointment
    For Clement Vallandidgham
    Who was singed
    When we burned off the brush
    To smoke out the copperheads.”

    33 EXPENSE ACCOUNT

    Stopped
    In this state
    Shocked
    Bleeding inside himself
    He stares at the hostess
                 who smiles
    Oblivious of her own nakedness —
    Her siren song
    Salt for his would
    He could quench this thirst
                 in other lands
    And he would if he could
                 but he can’t;
    Propriety tells him to drink
                 and he does,
    Quicker than the psychiatrist
                  and cheaper too,

    He retires
    Mourning the alcoholic way
    And tomorrow
    He submission is recorded
    As allowable expense.

    34 FINALE

    In Conservia
    My friend sits wondering
    What will become of us all,
    Truth is dead
    The world is Red
    And all’s been said
    And more’s been done than said
                     all wrong —

    The election confirmed
    That decadence had wormed
    It way into the nations’s soul
    And on the while
    His role
                     is dead —

    It died way back there
    In Conservia
    Where my friend sits awaiting
                   the end —

              Ex-boozer
              Ex-gambler
              Ex-chaser

                       now —

    Ex-reformer.

     35 LEE ANNE

    (On Her Seventh Birthday)

    Walking
    This side of her
    When trees are bare
    And distance sharpens the cold
    Into a clear necessity
    A turning goodbye
    As time reveals her role —
    What calmness
    Lies behind the voice
    When she asks,
    “Why are we walking his road?”

    36 DEATH AND REBIRTH

    We have com to the end which is not the end
    And age and resolve have solved nothing,
    Our monstrous child towers over us
    And we cannot love what we create;
    What will stand in the place of death
    But grand endurance that cannot sing
    and if we stop who waits to listen
    It worlds that go too soon unsung;
    Born again and again to weep bitterly
    Sharing the dreadful joy of another sun
    Where love kills love in the cauldron of want
    And we who are dead, survive.

    37 RETROSPECT

    Of this I have seen
    The sober quality of a woman’s hand
    Waving good-bye
    The delicate sheen covering of love
    And the possibilities of me —

    Of this I have known
    This calmness of that beauty
    Offset a gloomy past
    And I stood smiling naive as a child
    Thinking there would be another time.

    38 E = MC2

    Surmounting all obstacles
    Our affinity, concealed,
    Awakened and opened its eyes
    To be born
    To be revealed anew,
    Transmutation in the greatest fire —
    Ah!  Love should leave a memory,
    Yet, after all that
    We parted as perfect strangers.

    39 SPRING

    . . . and it come again
    Irresistibly drawn
    From the white darkness
    An intense recoil
    Of lithe life leaping
    In a sea of green
    And a raven-haired
    Image of eternity
    Straining the end
    Of the crazy cord.

    40 LOST BOY

    Caught in the glow of the moon
    An apparition crosses the sky,
    Then and again in the wind,
    A father’s far-a-way cry —
    An unexplainable sadness
    Comes from the night beyond
    A terror mysteriously formed
    And then I slowly remember
    A lonely boy running away.

    41 HILLTOP

    The eleventh hour of hypnotic touch
    Not from my memory
    But in an inverted dream —
    What pleasure it was, this torment
    And what possible salvation for me
    Except at that time
    Between sleeping and waking
    Life was wonderfully good.

    42 TRANSIENT DREAM

    When in a transient dream
    The clouds opened
    Creating a sun
    And I discovered myself —
    To see beyond
    I climbed higher
    Asking only for time
    But when I found that place
    Its origin was emptiness.

    43  TO JOHN

    (Who sits on the back row)

    So I’ll admit
    That you as a solid football player
    Should never be caught standing on the your toes
    With your head sticking up through a cloud,
    But do not so loudly proclaim
    That you’ll have none of my game,
    I know it was you
    Who wrote that poetry on the rest room walls.

    44 SPEAKING OF YOUTH

    If I say anything of my youth
    I will say
    I was small for my size
    And got the Hell kicked out of me
    Purposely —
    It was essential
    To be ugly
    To be welcome.

    45 ROLE CALL

    Somewhat invested with beauty
    She nevertheless replies:
    “I’m dreadfully pregnant,”
    But I am envious —
    She can do something
    That I can’t do.

    46 WINTER NIGHT

    A singular light
    Across the snow-field plain,
    The distance to there . . .
    The cold.

    47 OWL SPIRITS

    Lightly
    Life comes upon him
    Nightly
    As though the day
    Were guilty by decree
    And I his honored guest
    Too long in earth’s repose
    Softly
    Fly away with him.

    48  MARCH

    The sun
    Cold eye of morning,
    Its invitation to spring
    Declined —
    When was it
    When the flowers last grew here?

    49 MORNING GLORY

     I crept into being
    Faintly purple
    Found myself a spring
    And touched the shyness of the sun
    Then
    On a sudden path
    I ran
    Until time had lost its meaning.

    50  NIHILIST

    The world
    A rimless zero
    I perceive
    And beyond that —
    Nothing.

    51 REVELATION

    In an otherwise cloudless sky
    I saw a strange formation —
    I am tempted to start
    A new religion.

    52 WINTER DAWN

    At first
    When the seed opened
    I found nothing
    But time and the subtle essence
    Produced a flower
    Then
    From the dream silence
    A distant drum throbbed
    And in a summer mood
    I was born;
    Was it real?
    I yielded the pillow
    And in the red moon
    I saw the gods depart —
    It is quiet once more.

    53  SIXTH SENSE

    When the warm winds came
    I walked the willow edge
    Searching . . . listening . . .
    Though her footfall was soundless
    Her reflection was real —
    I looked into the stream
    And watched it flow uphill.

    54 TRAGEDY

    At last
    We forget
    We forget
    A saving grace allowed to us
    And yet
    The memory
    A thousand winds beget —
    Perpetual loneliness.

    55  HOAR FROST

    But
    For a moment
    The crystalled fog captures the sun
    And wantonly the trees smile again
    Then
    After a warm tinge of conscience
    They cry their jewels away.

    56  COLLISION COURSE

    The knowledge before
    And the knowledge after
    The wind voice calls
    As the great door closes —
    I would move mountains
    And burn utterly away.

    57  ICONOCLAST

    Time and proximity
    Created the image
    With an unlikeness
    To any realness
    And it stood motionless
    While the flowers
    Formed from the shadows
    Of a spring song;

    Time and propriety
    Weighted its wings
    With the incense
    Of summer mysteries
    But it grew restless
    In the growing storm
    Wondering and searching
    Autumn prophecies;

    Time and anxiety
    Tangled and taut
    Tested it magic
    To tangible touch
    And it broke with a kiss —
    And she ran away
    Scattering the pieces
    In the dying wind.

    58 OBJECTIVE CASE

    From symbols of love
    I grew
    A tangle of eyes and feet
    And could I have stayed there
    I would have been secure,
    But I insisted on a room with a view —
    One yank
    And I came from darkness,
    One smack
    And I felt tomorrow
    And falling backwards,
    I cried an eternity.

    59 CLOTHES MAKE THE MAN

    I have noticed that
    We are both impeccably dressed,
    But that you prefer
    To make your appearance
    In black and white,
    While I prefer
    A variety of colors.
    This difference, I believe,
    Stems from the fabric
    Of our hair shirts;
    Yours seems to scratch you
    While mine only tickles.

    (This poem was first published in the Ball State Teachers College FORUM, Spring, 1963.)

    60  ON THE DAYS THAT I SAW CLEARLY

    On the days that I saw clearly
    In the quandary of time’s coming,
    My intellect strayed and I could not escape;
    I drank intoxicating myths
    But I created no gods,
    And then the leaves fell from the tree
    And I recognized you as the new ghost of the sun;

    Though I sensed the contradiction
    I was afraid to wait
    While time came circling the seasons
    And I was renewed in its flight
    So I have written you into being
    And if this divine seed should fail,
    So be it, for I was saved
    When I gave the miracle a chance.

    61 INTRIGUE

    Wandering
    On a snow-night
    With the autumn of things
    A linden grove
    In the purple lea of time
    The heart leaves
    With her beauty, knowing
    That snow inevitably covers
    The nature of things
    And I never knew her —
    Then why do I grieve?

    62 LET IT BE SAID

    Let it be said
    Then say no more of this —
    Too late we remembered
    How we had come
    Or when we had found
    This meadow land;
    The why is lost
    Here where the hill fell down,
    This is the relation
    The first and last
    The only one
    An all we’ll ever need.

    Publication Status of Mr. Sedam’s Between Wars

    Because Mr. Sedam’s Between Wars was published by now a defunct press, acquiring copies takes some searching.  However, with a little luck, one can still find copies offered through various sellers on Amazon or Abe Books, for example, Amazon now features two copies of Between Wars, reasonably priced at $15 and $15.89. Please check back to this site or on Amazon for updates on this book’s availability.

  • Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s Sonnet 2 “But only three in all God’s universe”

    Image: Elizabeth Barrett Browning – NPG, London

    Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s Sonnet 2 “But only three in all God’s universe”

    Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s second sonnet from Sonnets from the Portuguese reports that her relationship with her life-mate is granted by God, and thus, it cannot be broken or disavowed.  

    Introduction and Text of Sonnet 2  “But only three in all God’s universe”

    Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s sonnet 2 focuses on her growing relationship with her beloved life partner, Robert Browning.  In this sonnet, the poet creates a speaker who insists that the relationship is the destiny of this couple; it is karmically determined, and therefore, nothing in this world could have kept them apart once God had issued the decree for them to come together.

    The speaker’s faith allows her to begin a healing process that had begun with the onset of the relationship that would result in permanent love and affection between the two. Still, she will continue to muse and ruminate on her lot; she will remain cautious until she can become totally enveloped in the notion that she is loved as much as she had longed for and hoped.

    Sonnet 2 “But only three in all God’s universe”

    But only three in all God’s universe
    Have heard this word thou hast said,—Himself, beside
    Thee speaking, and me listening! and replied
    One of us … that was God, … and laid the curse
    So darkly on my eyelids, as to amerce
    My sight from seeing thee,—that if I had died,
    The deathweights, placed there, would have signified
    Less absolute exclusion. “Nay” is worse
    From God than from all others, O my friend!
    Men could not part us with their worldly jars,
    Nor the seas change us, nor the tempests bend;
    Our hands would touch for all the mountain-bars:
    And, heaven being rolled between us at the end,
    We should but vow the faster for the stars.

    Reading 

    Commentary on Sonnet 2  “But only three in all God’s universe”

    In sonnet 2, the speaker reports that her relationship with her life-mate is granted by God, and thus, it cannot be broken or disavowed.  

    First Quatrain:   A Private and Holy Trinity

    But only three in all God’s universe
    Have heard this word thou hast said,—Himself, beside
    Thee speaking, and me listening! and replied
    One of us … that was God, … and laid the curse

    The speaker avers that in the couple’s relationship, there are only three beings who have been privy to “this word thou hast said.” When her partner first told her that he loved her, she senses that God was speaking His own love for her as well.

    As she excitedly but tenderly took in the meaning of the declaration of love, she realized what her lot might have become without this happy turn of events. She responds rather hesitantly, even awkwardly recalling her physical illnesses that she labels “the curse.”

    Second Quatrain:   The Curse of the Body

    So darkly on my eyelids, as to amerce
    My sight from seeing thee,—that if I had died,
    The deathweights, placed there, would have signified
    Less absolute exclusion. “Nay” is worse

    The speaker’s reference to the “curse” is an exaggeration of the earthly physical body’s many issues with the pain of having to exist in a physical body.   Additionally, it might be helpful for readers to know that the poet did suffer much physical illness during her lifetime. 

    Thus, she can rightly allow her speaker to focus on the inharmonious circumstances that have disrupted but also informed the dramatic issues infusing  her poetics. This  particular “curse” that was put “[s]o darkly on [her] eyelids” might have hampered her ability to see her beloved.  Even if she had died, her separation from him would have been no worse then her inability to see him in this life.

    First Tercet:  God’s No

    From God than from all others, O my friend!
    Men could not part us with their worldly jars,
    Nor the seas change us, nor the tempests bend;

    The speaker then truthfully responds that when God hands down a “no,” it has meaning beyond the kin of the human mind and heart, and regardless of what humanity thinks, what God assigns reigns.

    If God’s answer to a mortal’s most ardent prayer is a resounding no, then that supplicant will suffer more than being turned down by a mere fellow mortal.  The suffering is likely to continue until that deluded soul finally reaches emancipation, thereby understanding all. But by good fortune, God brought this pair together, and thus, nothing any person could do or say could alter that fact that God bestowed this love on this couple.

    The speaker is echoing the marriage vow: “what God hath joined together, let no man put asunder.”  Thus, the speaker is asserting that the bond that rendered her happiest on this earthly plane of being is the one with her beloved partner and future husband.

    Second Tercet:  Ordained by God

    Our hands would touch for all the mountain-bars:
    And, heaven being rolled between us at the end,
    We should but vow the faster for the stars.

    The speaker then reveals that she has confidence that the union with her beloved is ordained by God.  With such assurance, she knows that even if “mountain-bars” tried to separate them, their “hands would touch.” 

    So completely confident is she that she can declare that even if after death, if heaven tried to disrupt in any way or intrude in their union, the couple’s bond would become even tighter, protecting the love that is blessing them.  Not even the influence of astral movements could begin to intrude upon the God-given bond this couple has gained and nourished.

  • Elizabeth Barrett Browning

    Image:  Elizabeth Barrett Browning – NPG, London

    Brief Life Sketch of Elizabeth Barrett Browning and Introduction to Sonnets from the Portuguese

    Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s classic work Sonnets from the Portuguese is the poet’s most anthologized and widely published work, studied by students in secondary schools, colleges, and universities and appreciated by the general poetry lover.

    Two Poets in Love

    Robert Browning, while wooing Elizabeth Barrett, referred to his sweetheart lovingly by the nickname he had given her: “my little Portuguese” [1].  He chose that nickname for her because of her dark complexion.  Elizabeth Barrett then quite consequentially titled her sonnet sequence Sonnets from the Portuguese.

    Since its publication, Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s Sonnets from the Portuguese has become a beloved, often anthologized, and widely studied sonnet sequence. With this 44-sonnet sequence, Barrett Browning puts on display her mastery of the Petrarchan (Italian) sonnet form.  

    Throughout the sequence, Barrett Browning creates a speaker who develops the theme of the romantic relationship between Elizabeth Barrett and fellow poet, Robert Browning, the man whom she will ultimately marry. 

    As their relationship begins, the speaker is continually beset with deep doubts.  She has little confidence that she can keep the affection of such an accomplished, world-renowned poet as Robert Browning [2].

    The speaker, therefore, continues to dramatize her deep skepticism that the relationship will withstand their differences.  The speaker is continually musing on her insecure nature and doubts as she even magnifies them.  Her exploration and examination of her situation causes her much consternation. Likely, the poet’s prior experience with love relationships influences her hesitancy in engaging in a relationship with Robert Browning:

    Much of E.B.B.’s hesitation came from knowing that love can bring injury as well as boon. She had suffered such injury. With great pain did she finally recognise that her father’s strangely heartless affection would have buried her sickroom, for how else could she interpret his squelching of her plan to travel south for health in 1846, when doctors practically ordered the journey to Italy as a last hope?

    E.B.B. had had previous experience of one-sided affection, as we see in her diary of 1831-3, which concerns her relationship with the Greek scholar H.S. Boyd. For a year her entries calculate the bitter difference between his regard and her own, and she wonders if she can ever hope for reciprocation. In fact she finds her womanly capacity for feeling a liability and wishes she could feel less — “I am not of a cold nature, & cannot bear to be treated coldly. When cold water is thrown upon a hot iron, the iron hisses. I wish that water wd. make that iron as cold as self.”  [3]

    Elizabeth Barrett’s poor health is often emphasized in the many biographies of the poet.   Few biographers have offered any speculations regarding the origin of the poet’s illness; nor have they attempted to name the disease from which the poet suffered.

    However, Anne Buchanan, who is a research assistant in anthropology, has suggested that  Elizabeth Barrett suffered from hypokalemic periodic paralysis (HKPP), a muscle disorder [4].  Buchanan’s daughter suffers from that same disease, which “causes blood levels of potassium to fall because potassium becomes trapped in muscle cells.”  

    Buchanan and her daughter Ellen Buchanan Weiss observed that the descriptions of Barrett Browning’s malady resembled closely those of the daughter.  The Buchanans have thus suggested that a cold, moist climate often intensifies the pain associated with HKPP.

    Throughout Barrett Browning’s lifetime, London’s cold, damp climate had exacerbated the poet’s health problems, and whatever the title of the disease, escaping the London’s weather was a Godsend to her. 

    Thus, her marriage to  Robert Browning enhanced her health as well as her mental state because the coupled relocated to Italy, where they enjoyed the warm climate, which was amenable to Elizabeth’s health.

    Because of Robert Browning, Elizabeth Barrett not only enjoyed a soulmate to love her, but she also found one who would protect her health and allow her live her remaining years more comfortably and productively.

    The Petrarchan (Italian) Sonnet Form

    The Petrarchan sonnet is named after the 14 century Italian poet, Francesco Petrarch [5].  It is also known as the Italian sonnet.  The Petrarchan/Italian sonnet displays an eight-line octave and a six-line sestet. The octave contains two quatrains (four lines each), and the sestet contains two tercets (three lines each). The traditional rime scheme of the Petrarchan/Italian sonnet is ABBAABBA in the octave and CDCDCD in the sestet.

    Poets, however, often display a variation on the sestet rime scheme, transforming it from CDCDCD to CDECDE.  Many other poets vary the octave as well as create other schemes for the sestet. But Barrett Browning never varies the rime scheme; she retains the traditional rime scheme ABBAABBACDCDCD throughout the entire 44-sonnet sequence.  

    Following such a tight, restricted form that the poet chose to follow as she composed 44 sonnets magnifies her skill and her mastery of that sonnet form. The poet’s choice of the Petrarchan sonnet also reveals her deep affinity for the original Petrarchan theme, as she muses upon the relationship between herself and her belovèd as well as the relationship between the Divine Creator-Father and His human children.

    According to Robert Stanley Martin, Petrarch “reimagined the conventions of love poetry in the most profound way: love for the idealized lady was the path towards learning how to properly love God . . .”:

    [Petrarch’s] poems investigate the connection between love and chastity in the foreground of a political landscape, though many of them are also driven by emotion and sentimentality.  Critic Robert Stanley Martin writes that Petrarch “reimagined the conventions of love poetry in the most profound way: love for the idealized lady was the path towards learning how to properly love God . . . .” [6]

    Each sonnet in this sequence is displayed in only one stanza with its octave and sestet. However, engaging the sonnet’s quatrains and sestets separately allows the commentarian a clearer focus in concentrating on each line unit. 

    Image: Two Poets in Love

    A Legacy of Love

    Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s sonnet sequence offered the poet a remarkably open field as well as the imaginative opportunity for discovery of her true feelings.   The poet’s life had become steeped in melancholy, as a result of her poor health and her family’s inability to understand and appreciate her abilities and sensibilities.  Especially problematic was her difficult relationship with her father.

    As the poet through her speaker navigates through the sonnet sequence, she demonstrates a change of mood. The speaker of the sequence grows from an individual holding the desperate thought that only death would remain her consort to one who could finally experience joy.

    After her doubts that she and such a man of the world as Robert Browning could have a true relationship are finally removed, she finds life to be very different from what she has earlier experienced.

    The confident, sophisticated Robert Browning brought Miss Barrett a happiness that genuinely gave her life meaning. The two poets’ relationship had to struggle against a host of trials and tribulations, but their love story results in one that remains one for the ages. The world is more acquainted with these two lover-poets than it would have otherwise been without their loving relationship:

    In addition to being celebrated for their literary talents, Elizabeth and Robert are remembered as people who were deeply in love. As Sir Frederic Kenyon wrote, Elizabeth and Robert “gave the most beautiful example of [love] in their own lives.” The marriage of Elizabeth Barrett Browning and Robert Browning required courage and sacrifice, and they were willing to do whatever it took to build a beautiful life together.  [7]

    Barrett Browning’s 44-sonnets sequence recounts the journey of a poet who begins with many doubts. But she examines and muses upon the origins of those doubts and then finally blossoms into a joyous, creative individual after she accepts and engages with the love that Robert Browning had so generously and genuinely offered her.  The story of the love relationship between these two poets has a become one of most inspirational stories in the literary world—or, for that matter, in any world.

    Sources

    [1]  Jennifer Kingma Wall. “Love and Marriage: How Biographical Interpretation affected the Reception of Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s ‘Sonnets from the Portuguese’The Victorian Web.  Last modified May 4, 2005.

    [2] Editors.  “Robert Browning.”  Poetry Foundation.  Accessed March 2, 2023.

    [3]  Kathleen Blake. “The Relationship of Elizabeth Barrett Browning and Robert Browning.” The Victorian Web.  1991.

    [4] Editors.  “Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s Illness Deciphered after 150 Years.”  American Association for the Advancement of Science. December 19, 2011.

    [5] Editors.  “Petrarch.”  Academy of American Poets.  Accessed March 2, 2023.

    [6] Editors.  “Petrarch.”  Poetry Foundation.  Accessed June 29, 2021.

    [7]  Taylor Jasmine. “The Literary Love Story of Elizabeth Barrett and Robert Browning.”  Literary Ladies Guide.  November 1, 2020.

    Image: Elizabeth Barrett Browning and Robert Browning – 1852. Portraits painted by Thomas Buchanan Read

    The Psychological Narrative within Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s Sonnets from the Portuguese

    Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s 44 Petrarchan sonnets in Sonnets from the Portuguese suggest a subtle sequence within a psychological narrative framework.

    Composed during her courtship with Robert Browning, the sequence presents an evolution from despair, low self-esteem, and self-doubt toward acceptance of love, reframing of self-awareness, and final, faithful and faith-based commitment.  The sequence sections itself into the following emotional stages:

    1. Musing on Despair and Resistance (Sonnets 1–8)

    The sequence begins with a speaker who feels emotionally exhausted, physically fragile, convinced she could never marry, especially because her father had dictated that none of  his children would ever be allowed to marry. Also her illness had enfeebled her so dramatically that she likely had little energy and strength for beginning and maintaining a loving relationship and family of her own.

    The main themes of this segment of sonnets are memory of suffering, expectation of death rather than love, and suspicion that the new affection cannot last.

    In the first sonnet, the speaker senses being drawn away from concentration on death by an unanticipated presence, which can only be interpreted as Robert Browning entering her life.

    2. Exploring the Fear of Being Unworthy of Love (Sonnets 9–15)

    The next group focuses on a persistent anxiety: she feels that her beloved deserves someone stronger and happier.  She believes she is too weak, ill, and melancholy to respond as she should to his affection; she feels she is near death.  He insists that he loves her deeply, and that they will have a future together.

    The tension that drives this segment of sonnets creates a suggestion that she may be arguing against the relationship, even though it is quite clear that in her heart of hearts she is strongly wishing for it to success.

    3. Examining the Strength of the Lover’s Devotion (Sonnets 16–24)

    Here the tone changes. The speaker begins to examine the lover’s commitment more carefully.  She wonders if he merely pities her, or if the love may be only temporary, or if he does in face love her for the right reasons.

    She insists that love must not rest on changeable qualities such as her smile, her voice, or her appearance.  She insists that love must remain constant even as those qualities dim with time.

    4. Gradual Recognition of Genuine Love (Sonnets 25–36)

    Gradually, the speaker is beginning to accept that the suitor’s devotion is real.  The sonnets in this segment focus on memories of shared moments, reflections on spiritual companionship, and growing emotional trust.  She is beginning to sense a mutual affection which is eroding the painful doubt that has plagued her.

    5. Final Acceptance and Joy (Sonnets 37–44)

    In the final segment, her resistance has largely disappeared.   She now accepts her suitor’s love, sensing that it us utterly transformative and refreshingly life-giving.  The tone has changed from ingrained doubt to joyous confidence, a healing gratitude, and spiritual cohesiveness. 

    The widely anthologized sonnet 43—“How do I love thee?  Let me count the ways”—belongs to this final stage and expresses love in multiple dimensions:  depth, breadth, height, and moral and spiritual devotion.  

    The final sonnet 44 “Belovèd, thou hast brought me many flowers” presents the couple’s love as an entity that will live on beyond death, as it testifies to a spiritual faith.  Such a faith transcends all mortal doubt, affords the speaker a truly new Weltanschauung.

    Image: Elizabeth Barrett Browning and Robert Browning – Global Love Museum

    Commentaries on Sonnets from the Portuguese

    1. Sonnet 1 “I thought once how Theocritus had sung” 
    2. Sonnet 2 “But only three in all God’s universe” 
    3. Sonnet 3 “Unlike are we, unlike, O princely Heart!” 
    4. Sonnet 4 “Thou hast thy calling to some palace-floor”
    5. Sonnet 5 “I lift my heavy heart up solemnly”
    6. Sonnet 6 “Go from me. Yet I feel that I shall stand”
    7. Sonnet 7 “The face of all the world is changed, I think”
    8. Sonnet 8 “What can I give thee back, O liberal”
    9. Sonnet 9 “Can it be right to give what I can give?”
    10. Sonnet 10 “Yet, love, mere love, is beautiful indeed”
    11. Sonnet 11 “And therefore if to love can be desert”
    12. Sonnet 12 “Indeed this very love which is my boast”
    13. Sonnet 13 “And wilt thou have me fashion into speech”
    14. Sonnet 14 “If thou must love me, let it be for nought”
    15. Sonnet 15 “Accuse me not, beseech thee, that I wear”
    16. Sonnet 16 “And yet, because thou overcomest so”
    17. Sonnet 17 “My poet, thou canst touch on all the notes”
    18. Sonnet 18 “I never gave a lock of hair away
    19. Sonnet 19 “The soul’s Rialto hath its merchandise”
    20. Sonnet 20 “Beloved, my Beloved, when I think”
    21. Sonnet 21 “Say over again, and yet once over again”
    22. Sonnet 22 “When our two souls stand up erect and strong”
    23. Sonnet 23 “Is it indeed so? If I lay here dead”
    24. Sonnet 24 “Let the world’s sharpness, like a clasping knife”
    25. Sonnet 25 “A heavy heart, Belovèd, have I borne”
    26. Sonnet 26 “I lived with visions for my company”
    27. Sonnet 27 “My own Belovèd, who hast lifted me”
    28. Sonnet 28  “My letters! all dead paper, mute and white!”
    29. Sonnet 29 “I think of thee!—my thoughts do twine and bud”
    30. Sonnet 30 “I see thine image through my tears to-night”
    31. Sonnet 31 “Thou comest! all is said without a word”
    32. Sonnet 32 “The first time that the sun rose on thine oath”
    33. Sonnet 33 “Yes, call me by my pet-name! let me hear”
    34. Sonnet 34 “With the same heart, I said, I’ll answer thee”
    35. Sonnet 35 “If I leave all for thee, wilt thou exchange”
    36. Sonnet 36 “When we met first and loved, I did not build”
    37. Sonnet 37 “Pardon, oh, pardon, that my soul should make”
    38. Sonnet 38 “First time he kissed me, he but only kissed”
    39. Sonnet 39 “Because thou hast the power and own’st the grace”
    40. Sonnet 40 “Oh, yes! they love through all this world of ours!”
    41. Sonnet 41 “I thank all who have loved me in their hearts”
    42. Sonnet 42 “‘My future will not copy fair my past’”
    43. Sonnet 43 “How do I love thee? Let me count the ways”
    44. Sonnet 44 “Belovèd, thou hast brought me many flowers”
    Image: Elizabeth Barrett Browning – Library of Congress

  • ~Maya Shedd’s Temple~

    Image: SRF Mother Center Lotus – Photo by Ron W. G.

    My spiritual journey began in earnest in 1978, when I became a devotee of Paramahansa Yogananda’s teachings and a member of his organization Self-Realization Fellowship.  As a Kriyaban since 1979, I have completed the four Kriya Initiations, and I continue to study the teachings and practice the yoga techniques as taught by the great spiritual leader, who is considered to be the “Father of Yoga in the West.”

    I practice the chants taught by the great guru accompanying myself on the harmonium and serve at the local SRF Meditation Group as one of the chant leaders.

    “By ignoble whips of pain, man is driven at last into the Infinite Presence, whose beauty alone should lure him.” –a wandering sadhu, quoted in Autobiography of a Yogi by Paramahansa Yogananda

    I am a Self-Realization Yogi because the teachings of Paramahansa Yogananda, who in 1920 founded Self-Realization Fellowship, make sense to me.  Paramahansa Yogananda teaches that we are immortal souls, already connected to the Divine Reality, but we have to “realize” that divine connection.  

    Knowing the Great Spirit (God) is not dependent upon merely claiming to believe in a divine personage, or even merely following the precepts of a religion such as the Ten Commandments.  

    Knowing the Creator is dependent upon “realizing” that the soul is united with that Creator.  To achieve that realization we have to develop our physical, mental, and spiritual bodies through exercise, scientific techniques, and meditation. 

    There are many good theorists who can help us understand why proper behavior is important for our lives and society, but Paramahansa Yogananda’s teachings offer definite, scientific techniques that we practice in order to realize our oneness with the Divine Power or God. 

    It makes sense to me that my salvation should be primarily my own responsibility.

    I did not grow up with a religious tradition.  My mother was a Baptist, who claimed that at one time she felt she was saved, but then she backslid.  I learned some hymns from my mother.  But she never connected behavior with religion.  

    My father was forced to attend church when he was young, and he complained that his church clothes were uncomfortable as was sitting on the hard pews.  

    My father disbelieved in the miracles of Jesus, and he poked fun at people who claimed to have seen Jesus “in the bean rows.”  My mother would not have doubted that a person might see Jesus, because she saw her father after he had died.  

    My mother characterized my father as agnostic, and she lived like an agnostic, but deep down I think she was a believer after the Baptist faith.

    Here’s a little story that demonstrates how ignorant about religion I was as a child:  When I was in first or second grade, I had a friend.  At recess one day at the swings, she wanted to confide something to me, and she wanted me to keep it secret.  

    She said I probably wouldn’t believe it, but she still wanted to tell me.  I encouraged her to tell me; it seemed exciting to be getting some kind of secret information.  So she whispered in my ear, “I am a Quaker.”  

    I had no idea what that was.  I thought she was saying she was magic like a fairy or an elf or something.  So I said, “Well, do something to prove it.”  It was my friend’s turn to be confused then.  

    She just looked very solemn.  So I asked her to do something else to prove it.  I can’t remember the rest of this, but the point is that I was so ignorant about religion.

    Looking back on my life as a child, teenager, young adult, and adult up to the age of 32, I realize that the lack of a religious tradition left a great void in my life.  Although my father was on the fence regarding religion, he would listen to Billy Graham preach on TV.  

    I hated it whenever Billy Graham was preaching on TV.  His message scared me.  Something like the way I felt when my father’s mother would come and visit us, and when my father would let out a “Goddam” or other such swear word, Granny would say he was going to hell for talking that way.  

    I was afraid for my father.  And Billy Graham made me afraid for myself and all of us because we did not attend church.   I never believed that things like swearing and masturbation could send a soul to hell.   But then back then I had no concept of “soul” or “hell.”  I believed it was wrong to kill, steal, and to lie.  But I’m not sure how these proscripts were taught to me.  

    I guess by example.   It seems that I had no real need for God and spirituality until I was around thirty years old.  

    My life went fairly smoothly except for two major traumas before age thirty.  The first trauma was experiencing a broken heart at age eighteen and then undergoing a failed marriage, after which I thought I would never find a mate to love me.  But I did meet a wonderful soulmate when I was 27.

    A second trauma that added to my confusion was being fired twice from the same job at ages 22 and 27.  By age 27 things started to make no sense.  And it started to bother me intensely that things made no sense.  

    I had always been a good student in grade school and high school, and I was fairly good in college, graduating from Miami University with a 3.0 average.  That grade point average bothered me because I thought I was better than that, but I guess I was wrong.  

    But then not being able to keep my teaching job and not being able to find another one after I had lost it very much confused me.  It seemed that I had lost touch with the world.  School had been my world, and my teachers and professors had expected great things from me.  But there I was at age 27 and couldn’t get connected to school again.

    I began reading feminist literature starting with Betty Friedan’s Feminine Mystique, continuing with Ms. Magazine, and many others.  The result of taking in the feminist creed led me to believe that I had someone to blame for my failure—men; men had caused the world to be arranged so that women cannot succeed outside the home.  

    I began writing again, an endeavor I have sporadically engaged in most of my life from about age sixteen.  

    I decided to apply for a graduate assistantship in English at Ball State University, feeling that I was ready to get out in the man’s world and show it what a woman could do.  I felt confident that I could succeed now that I knew what the problem was.  But that didn’t work out either.  

    I finished the year without a master’s degree in English, and then there I was, confused again, and still searching for something that made sense. 

    I had heard about the Eastern philosophy known as “Zen” at Ball State, and I started reading a lot about that philosophy.  Zen helped me realize that men were not the problem, attitude was.  I kept on writing, accumulating many poems, some of which I still admire.  

    And I kept reading Zen, especially Alan Watts, but after a while the same ideas just kept reappearing with no real resolution, that is, even though the Zen philosophy did help me understand the world better, it was not really enough.  I got the sense that only I could control my life, but just how to control it was still pretty much a mystery.

    In 1977, my husband Ron and I went on one of our book shopping trips.  I spied a book, Paramahansa Yogananda’s “Autobiography of a Yogi,” and I recommended it to Ron because he liked biographies.  Strangely, I said to him about the man on the cover: “He’s a good guy!”  Strange, because I had no idea if the individual was a good guy or not, being the first time I ever saw him.  So, we purchased poetry books, and we also purchased the autobiography for him.  

    Ron did not get around to reading it right away, but I did, and I was totally amazed at what I read.  It all made sense to me; it was such a scholarly book, clear and compelling.   There was not one claim made in the entire 500 plus pages that made me say “what?” or even feel any uncertainty that this writer knew exactly whereof he spoke.  

    Paramahansa Yogananda was speaking directly to me, at my level, where I was in my life, and he was connecting with my mind in a way that no writer had ever done. For example, the book offers copious notes, references, and scientific evidence that academics will recognize as thorough research. 

    This period of time was before I had written a PhD dissertation, but all of my years of schooling including the writing of many academic papers for college classes had taught me that making claims and backing them up with explanation, analysis, evidence, and authoritative sources were necessary for competent, persuasive, and legitimate exposition.

    Paramahansa Yogananda’s autobiography contained all that could appeal to an academic and much more because of the topic he was addressing.   As the great spiritual leader recounted his own journey to self-realization, he was able to elucidate the meanings of ancient texts whose ideas have remained misunderstood for many decades and even centuries.

    The book contained a postcard that invited the reader to send for lessons that teach the techniques for becoming self-realized.  I sent for them, studied them, and I have been practicing them since 1978.  They do, indeed, hold the answer to every human problem.

    I know it is difficult for most educated people to believe that all human problems can be solved, but that’s because they get stuck in the thought that they cannot. 

    If you believe that you can never really know something, then you can’t, because if you believe that you can never really know something, you won’t try to know it. 

    Yogananda gives a map with directions to reaching God, and realizing that one’s soul is united with God brings about the end of all sorrow and the beginning of all joy. 

    Just knowing the precepts intellectually does not cause this realization, but it goes a long way toward eliminating much suffering.  

    The faith that we can overcome all suffering is a great comfort, even if we are not there yet.   I realize that God is knowable, but most important is that I know I am the only one who can connect my soul to God—and that is the spiritual journey I am now on.

    🕉

    Entries

    1. Thought of the Day
    2. Life Sketch of Paramahansa Yogananda
    3. My Life in Little Stories
    4. Autobiography of a Hoosier Hillbilly
    5. “Forget the Past”: A 10-Sonnet Sequence
    6. A Suite of “Samadhi” Villanelles
    7. Overcoming Fear
    8. The Bad Man Who Was Preferred by God
    9. Quotations
    10. Names for the Ineffable God
    11. An Orphic Oath: To Enshrine a Standard of Excellence for Poets 
    12. Brief Sketches of the Five Major World Religions
    13. The Stifling of Spirituality
    14. Breaking the Coffee Habit:  A Devotee’s Reflection in the Spirit of Paramahansa Yogananda

  • Audre Lorde’s “Father Son and Holy Ghost”

    Image:  Audre Lorde 

    Audre Lorde’s “Father Son and Holy Ghost”

    In Audre Lorde’s “Father Son and Holy Ghost,” the speaker revisits memories of a beloved father, who has died and who served as a rôle model for moral and ethical behavior.  The speaker reveals her deep affection for her late father as she relives special features of her father’s behavior and her reaction to them. 

    Introduction with Text of “Father Son and Holy Ghost”

    Although Audre Lorde is well known as a black lesbian poet, who wrote on issues of identity, she also wrote more personal pieces that address themes common to all of humanity.  The death of a father is one such theme.

    In her elegy “Father Son and Holy Ghost,” Lorde creates a speaker, who is remembering various aspects of her father’s behavior while he was alive.  But she begins by strangely emphasizing that she has not as yet visited her father’s grave. 

    That admission alerts the reader that the poem is focusing on earlier memories.  While that first impression prompts questions in the reader’s mind, answers begin to form in the second movement.  Another question might be begged regarding the title and what it implies. 

    By invoking the Christian Holy Trinity, the speaker is implying that the spiritual nature of her memory will include three levels of understanding of the father:  he was the progenitor of the speaker (Father), he lived a life of consistent, respectable, and moral behavior (Son), and he revered his wife, the mother of his children (Holy Ghost). 

    Her admiration for her father is displayed in a Dickinsonian, elliptical style; the poet has not added any unnecessary word to her drama.

    For example, instead of merely stating that her father arrived home in the evening, grasped the doorknob, and entered the home, she shrinks all of that information in “our evening doorknobs.”  

    Because doorknobs remain the same whether it be morning, noon, evening, or night, the speaker metaphorically places the time of her father’s arrival by describing the doorknob by the time of day of his arrival.

    Father Son and Holy Ghost

    I have not ever seen my father’s grave.

    Not that his judgment eyes
    have been forgotten
    nor his great hands’ print
    on our evening doorknobs
                one half turn each night
                and he would come
                drabbled with the world’s business   
                massive and silent
                as the whole day’s wish  
                ready to redefine
                each of our shapes
    but now the evening doorknobs  
    wait    and do not recognize us  
    as we pass.

    Each week a different woman   
    regular as his one quick glass
    each evening
    pulls up the grass his stillness grows  
    calling it weed.
    Each week    a different woman  
    has my mother’s face
    and he
    who time has    changeless
    must be amazed
    who knew and loved
    but one.

    My father died in silence   
    loving creation
    and well-defined response   
    he lived    still judgments  
    on familiar things
    and died    knowing
    a January 15th that year me.

    Lest I go into dust
    I have not ever seen my father’s grave. 

    Commentary on “Father Son and Holy Ghost”

    In her elegy to her father’s memory, the speaker is offering a tribute the demonstrates a special love and affection, along with her deep admiration for his fine qualities.

    First Movement: An Unusual Admission

    The speaker begins by reporting that she has never visited her father’s grave.  This startling suggestion has to wait for explanation, but the possibilities for the speaker’s reasons assert themselves for the reader immediately.  

    Because seeing the grave of a deceased loved one is customarily part of the funeral experience, it seems anomalous that the speaker would have skipped that part of the ceremony. 

    On the other hand, because she does not tell the reader otherwise, she might have skipped the funeral entirely.  But whether the failure to visit the grave is associated with a close or distant relationship with the father remains to be experienced.  

    And oddly, either situation could be prompting that failure to visit the grave or attend the funeral:  if there is resentment at the parent, one might fail to visit in order to avoid those feelings.

    Or if there is deep pain because of a close, loving relationship with the parent, then seeing the grave would remind the bereft that that relationship has been severed.

    By choosing not to explain or even assert certain facts, the speaker points only to the facts and events that are important for her purpose.  And her purpose, as the title alerts, will be to associate her father’s death with profundity and devotion stemming from his deep religious dedication.

    Second Movement:  Not Forgotten 

    The speaker now asserts that just because she had not visited his grave does not mean that she has forgotten her father’s characteristics; she still remembers his “judgment eyes.”  

    Her father demonstrated the ability to guide and guard his family through his ability to see the outcome of certain situations, likely retaining the ability to encourage positive results. He was able to steers his children in the right direction.

    She also remembers his arriving home from work in the evenings, turning the doorknobs just a “half turn.”  It was likely it was the sound of that doorknob that alerted the speaker that her father was home.

    The father’s work has left him “drabbled,” but he was a large man and remained “silent,” indicating that he was a thoughtful man, who likely entertained a “whole day’s wish” to return home to his family.  

    He apparently paid attention to his children, likely instructing them to “shape” up, assisting them in becoming the respectable people he knew they could be.

    Now, those same “evening doorknobs” that sounded out under the grasp of her father’s large hand simply “wait,” for he will no longer be grasping them and entering his home every evening. 

    Oddly, those doorknobs can no longer sense the household members as they pass them.  This personification of “doorknobs” indicates that the speaker is asserting that anyone seeing those family members would see a changed lot of people—changed because of the absence of a father.

    Third Movement: Consistency of Behavior

    The speaker then reports that her father brought home a “different woman” every week, and his act of bringing home that different woman was always the same. He also remained consistent in taking only one glass of liquor and a small amount of marijuana.

    That the father grew in “stillness” suggests that he took the alcohol and weed simply to calm his nerves from the day’s work, not to simply get high.

    The speaker seems to be suggesting that those women supplied the “weed,” pulling a bag of the herbage up out of their bags.  (The terms “grass” and “weed” are slang labels for marijuana, along with “pot” and “Mary Jane,” and many others.) That the women suppled the weed is in perfect alignment with the father’s character: he likely kept legal alcohol in his home but not illegal products like “weed.” 

    That the father took only one drink and a limited amount of “grass” or “weed” becomes a characteristic to be understood and admired, even emulated.  His consistency has made a positive impression upon the speaker, and she remains content in observing with respect his even-tempered behavior.

    Repeating the claim of a “different woman” every week, the speaker remarks that each woman had her “mother’s face.”  She then asserts the reason for the women with her mother’s face is that her father “knew and loved / but one.” 

    She is likely employing the term “knew” in the biblical sense; thus she may be implying that her father’s relationship with those women remained platonic.  The speaker remains cognizant of the father’s consistent personality and behavior.  

    While it may be expected that a man would engage with other women after his wife’s death, that he remained attached to his wife’s visage and engaged sexually only with his wife because he loved only her remains unusual and makes its mark on the speaker’s memory. Her father’s respectability and morality have caught the speaker’s attention and those qualities remain in her memory of his behavior.

    Fourth Movement: A Well-Lived Life

    The speaker says that her father “died in silence.”  She asserts that he loved “creation,” and he lived in a way that appropriately corresponded with that love. 

    Because of the positive, admirable aspects of her father’s personality and behavior, she understands the appropriateness of his “judgments” especially “on familiar things.”  As he judged his family, he was able to guide them in appropriate and uplifting ways.

    That he died on “January 15th” signals that everything he knew about his daughter stopped on that date, and the speaker/daughter knows that anything she accomplishes after that date will remain unknown to her father.  Likely, she is saddened, knowing this limit will remain, and she has no way of controlling that situation.

    Fifth Movement: Life’s Fulfillment

    The speaker then asserts again that she has never visited her father’s grave, but in concluding, she claims that she had never done so because it might make her “go into dust.”  The biblical passage in Genesis 3:19 asserts, 

    In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread, till thou return unto the ground; for out of it wast thou taken: for dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return.

    The speaker seems to imply that she fears her strong reaction to visiting her father’s grave might result in her own death. And while she may also be remembering the Longfellow quatrain from “A Psalm of Life,” featuring the assertion, “‘Dust thou art, to dust returnest’, / Was not spoken of the soul,” she is not ready to leave her physical encasement just yet.

    The ultimate atmosphere of the poem “Father Son and Holy Ghost” suggests a certain understated fulfillment in the father’s life:  he strived to live a moral, well-balanced, consistent life, which the speaker can contemplate in loving memory, even if she may not be able to celebrate openly by visiting his grave.  

    Image:  Audre Lorde and Gloria Joseph 

    Brief Life Sketch of Audre Lorde

    Audre Lorde was born on February 18, 1934, in New York City to Frederic and Linda Lorde, who came to the USA from Grenada.  Her father was a carpenter and real estate agent, and her mother had been a teacher in Grenada.  Frederic Lorde was known for his nature as a well-disciplined man of great ambition.

    Their daughter Audre became a prominent American poet.  Her works are filled with passion, making her lyrical verses a riot of emotion.  But she also took an interest in social issues, seeking justice for the marginalized members of society.

    Lorde began writing poems as a high school student; she published her first poem  [1] while still in school.  After high school, she attended Hunter College, earning a B.A. degree in 1959.  She then went on to study at Columbia University and completed an MLS degree in 1961.

    Publication

    Audre Lorde’s first collection of poems, The First Cities, was published in 1968 [2].   Critics have described her voice as one that has developed though profound introspection, as she examines themes focusing on identity, the nature of memory, and how all things are affected by mortality.

    She followed up The First Cities in 1970 with Cables to Rage.  Three years later she published From a Land Where Other People Live. Then in 1974, she brought out the cleverly titled New York Head Shop and Museum.

    Lorde continued to focus on personal musings as she broadened her scope with criticism of cultural injustice.  She often created speakers who run up against unfair modes of behavior.  She also touches on issues that reveal the nature of individual sensuality and the power of inner fortitude in struggles with life’s trials and tribulations.

    In her first mainstream published collection titled Coal, which she brought out in 1976, she experimented with formal expressions.  In 1978, her collection, The Black Unicorn, earned for the poet her greatest recognition as critics and scholars labeled the work a masterpiece in poetry.

    In her masterpiece, Lorde employed African myths [3], coupled with tenets from feminism’s most widely acclaimed accomplishments.  She also gave a nod to spirituality as she seemed to strive for a more universal flavor in her works.

    Legacy and Death

    Audre Lorde’s work has received many prestigious awards, including the Walt Whitman Citation of Merit.  She also earned a fellowship from the National Endowment for the Arts.  She served as poet laureate of New York from 1919 until her death.

    Lorde died of breast cancer on November 17, 1992, in St. Croix, Virgin Islands, where she and her partner Gloria Joseph had been residing since 1986.  Lorde’s physical enactment was cremated, and her ashes were scattered over the ocean [4] around St. Croix.

    Sources for Life Sketch

    [1] Editors.  “Audre Lorde.”  Poetry Foundation.  Accessed June 29, 2025

    [2] Curators.  “Audre Lorde Collection: 1950-2002.”  Spelman College Archives. Accessed June 29, 2025.

    [3] Njeng Eric Sipyinyu. “Audre Lorde: Myth Harbinger of the Back to Africa Movement.” Journal of Emerging Technologies and Innovative Research. May 2024.

    [4] Curators.  “Audre Lorde.”  Find a Grave.  Accessed June 29, 2025.

    Tricky Lines

    As Robert Frost admitted that his poem “The Road Not Taken” was very tricky and admonished readers “to be careful with that one,” the following lines of the third movement from Audre Lorde’s poem “Father Son and Holy Ghost” have proved tricky:

    Each week a different woman   
    regular as his one quick glass
    each evening
    pulls up the grass his stillness grows  
    calling it weed.
    Each week    a different woman  
    has my mother’s face
    and he
    who time has    changeless
    must be amazed
    who knew and loved
    but one.

    Scouring the Internet for analyses of Lorde’s poem, one finds a particularly absurd interpretation of those lines has taken hold.  That misreading states that every week a different woman comes to the father’s grave to pull up weeds, thereby keeping the gravesite neat, and each woman’s face reminds the speaker of her mother.

    However, that reading misses the mark for several reasons:

    1. Misreading of the Terms “Grass” and “Weed”

    It is quite obvious that the terms “grass” and “weed” are not literally referring to the botanical herbage, growing in abundance on the soil virtually everywhere, but are slang terms for marijuana.  

    Notice that the terms are used in juxtaposition to the father’s having “one quick glass,” an obvious reference to an alcoholic beverage.  Also note that the speaker uses the term “weed” not “weeds” which would be the plants excised to keep a gravesite neat.

    2. Misreading the Time-Frame  

    The speaker is looking back to when the father was alive and how he behaved.  The different women pulling weeds (“weed”) at a grave jumps forward to the father being dead and in his grave.  

    But the speaker is reporting that the father brought home a different woman each week, have one small drink, and engage a small amount of marijuana—all while he was alive.

    3. Forgetting the Speaker’s First Claim

    The speaker begins by stating that she has never seen her father’s grave.  There is no way she could have seen these different women pulling up weeds (“weed”) at his grave if she has never been there.

    4. Misreading or Forgetting the Setting

    All of the images in the poem point to the speaker’s setting the poem in the home, not at his gravesite. For example, “evening doorknobs,” “one quick glass each evening,” and “his stillness grows” all place the father in the home, not in a cemetery. 

    Stillness in this sense after death is an absolute, not a situation in which stillness can grow. If anything the decaying body might be thought of as the opposite of stillness with the activity of bacterial organisms ravaging the flesh.  

    It bears repeating because it must be remembered that the speaker has claimed she has never seen her father’s grave; so reporting on any activity at a his gravesite is impossible.

    5. Father-Daughter Relationship

    According to Jerome Brooks, Frederick Lorde, Audre’s father, was, in fact, “a vital presence in her life.”  Her father provided “the solid ‘intellectual and moral’ vision that centered her sense of the world.”

    Unfortunately, feminist critics have so overemphasized Audre Lorde’s identity as a “black lesbian” that they can assume only a railing against the patriarchy for the poet.  Her true personal feelings for the first man in her life must blocked in order to hoist the poet onto the anti-patriarchal standard.

    But as Brooks has contended, 

    In Zami, Lorde implies that her father, who shared his decisionmaking power with his wife when tradition dictated it was his alone, was profoundly moral. She also felt most identified with and supported by him as she writes in Inheritance—His: “I owe you my Dahomian jaw/ the free high school for gifted girls/ no one else thought I should attend/ and the darkness we share.”

    Reading vs Appreciating a Poem

    Reading and appreciating a poem are two distinctive activities. While it may be unfair to claim absolute correctness in any interpretation, still some readings can clearly be flawed because poems can remain Frostian “tricky.”  It would seem that it is difficult if not impossible to appreciate a poem if one accepts a clearly inaccurate reading of the poem.

    Still, it is up to each reader to determine which interpretation he will accept. And the acceptance will most likely be based on experience both in life and in literary study. 

  • Original Poems

    Image: The Old Homestead by Ron W. G.
    The image is a painting by my sweet husband, Ron, who relied on a photo taken by my sister, Carlene Craig, who still lives there.  The old homestead is the place where I grew up—a place of beauty that holds many memories of a young girl growing up in the turbulent times of the 50s and 60s.

    Welcome to My Original Poems

    My literary focus remains primarily on poetry and songwriting, but as a life-long creative writer, I have also dabbled in many other forms: short stories, flash fiction, memoir.

    I also compose literary and expository essays, focusing on a variety of topics including history and politics—even some science/medical issues, especially those that remain controversial.    

    To sample some of my songs, please visit my “Original Songs.”  I also create vegetarian/vegan recipes.

    This room in my literary home provides links to my original poems. 

    Literary art—somewhat like science—is never truly settled or complete; thus I will be continuing to add—and even to revise— material from time to time.  

    Questions, comments, and suggestions offered in good faith are always welcome.

    Swearing to the Orphic Oath

    As a poet, I take the art of poetry very seriously and thus I swear to the following oath:

    As I, Linda Sue Grimes, engage in my career as a poet, I solemnly swear to remain faithful to the tenets of the following covenant to the best of my ability:

    1. I will respect and study the significant artistic achievements of those poets who precede me, and I will humbly share my knowledge with those who seek my advice. I will dedicate myself to my craft using all my talent while avoiding those two evils of (1) effusiveness of self-indulgence and (2) pontification on degradation and nihilism.
    2. I will remember that there is a science to poetry as well as an art, and that spirituality, peace, and love always eclipse metaphors and similes. I will not bring shame to my art by pretending to knowledge I do not have, and I will not cut off the legs of colleagues that I may appear taller.
    3. I will respect readers and ever be aware that not all readers are as well-versed in literary matters as I am. I will not take advantage of their ignorance by writing nonsense and then pretending it is the reader’s fault for not understanding my disingenuity. Regardless of the level of fame and fortune I reach, I will remain humble and grateful, not arrogant nor condescending.
    4. I will remember that poetry requires revision and close attention; it does not just pour out of me onto the page, as if opening a vein and letting it drip. Writing poetry requires thinking as well as feeling.
    5. I will continue to educate myself in areas other than poetry so that I may know a fair amount about history, geography, science, math, philosophy, foreign language, religion, economics, sociology, politics, and other fields of endeavor that result in bodies of knowledge.
    6. I will remember that I am no better than prose writers, songwriters, musicians, or politicians; all human beings deserve respect as well as scrutiny as they perform their unique duties, whether artist or artisan.
    7. I will not rewrite English translations of those who have already successfully translated and pretend that I too am a translator. I will not translate any poem that I cannot read and comprehend in the original.

    Original Poems

    1. To Profess Her a Fool
    2. Numbing Quiet
    3. Mushroom Heart
    4. Wolf
    5. Parting: Two Views
    6. Where Love Waits Restless
    7. Lamentation of the Muse for Everyman
    8. The Worm
    9. Dark Brain
    10. The Man in the Poem:  A Suite of 19 Poems
    11. Blue Haired Girl
    12. These Fish
    13. O Joy Is Mine
    14. Book of Frost
    15. Bird
    16. Fog on the Pond
    17. River God
    18. Starvers
    19. Once She’s Lost It
    20. Landscape & Me with Spot
    21. Love Among the Relics: A Suite in 8 Movements
    22. A Terrible Fish
    23. A Bitter Noise
    24. Iron Robert
    25. Alex as Artist
    26. Piercing the Veil
    27. Southern Woman
    28. In the Fog of Memory
    29. Prayer Sonnet for a Belovèd Father
    30. At the End of the Road
    31. Another Terrible Fish
    32. Singing like an Angel
    33. a salt sea
    34. Hagiography of Old Men
    35. Never Poke a Rough Beast from the Past
    36. The Everything-I-Say-Is-Wrong Blues Sonnet
    37. Greeting the Divine Reality as Bliss
    38. A Prayer for the Way
    39. Lift Thou This Veil of Blindness
    40. Do Not Ruffle What Hellish Beasts Conceal
    41. God Save Us from Our Protectors
    42. A Suite of Poems in Five Movements
    43. Two Sonnets in Praise of Stillness
    44. Corridors of the Mind
    45. Regret’s Return
    46. “Forget the Past”: 10-Sonnet Sequence
    47. Tangled Shadows
    48. Save the Earth from Our Protectors
    49. the captive
    50. Wanderers’ Psalm
    51. Whispers of Starlight
    52. Yesterday’s Turnip
    53. A Sonnet of Raw Couplets
    54. Instead
    55. Vowing to Ghosts
    56. Booking the Song
    57. Woven on a Veil of Love
    58. Colorado Singing to the Divine
    59. The Windows of Your Soul
    60. A Children’s Chorus
    61. Prayer for a Gentle Voice
    62. Without the Waves
    63. The Whitewater River Rolls On
    64. My Heart’s Deep Cry
    65. As God so Loved
    66. Divine Mother’s Gentle Dove
    67. In Time, O Belovèd
    68. What If, Only for Thee
    69. Ancient Tunes Belong to All
    70. A Sacred Act
    71. My Soul Chooses
    72. Crystal Bright
    73. My Love’s Most Quiet Wish
    74. Ode to the Paper Mill Bridge
    75. Low Key
    76. Whispers Rising
    77. The Stain of Mortal Doubt
    78. Cosmic Creators
    79. Joy Approaches Quiet or Grand
    80. The Rise of Blissful Silence
    81. Love’s Gratitude
    82. My Soul, My Heart, My Reason
    83. Storm for a Lost Soul
    84. Mockingbird in the Weeds
    85. My Kentucky Mother
    86. Without Wings My Sacred Soul Will Soar
    87. May I Become a Fountain of Song
    88. Little Songs from My Soul
    89. One Sunday
    90. Symbols
    91. Ready for Morning
    92. My Fleeting Dreams
    93. A Quiet Security
    94. A Raindrop in the Palm
    95. River of Soul Love
    96. This Salt Sea
    97. Seized by the Moment
    98. On the Brim of the Day
    99. Song of Silence
    100. My Soul in Search of Divine Romance
    101. Summer God
    102. Survivor
    103. Wailing
    104. Waiting in Shadows
    105. Great Wall of Silence
    106. Will & Testament
    107. Withered Soul
    108. Yea, though I Walk
    109. What Is It?
    110. You Escape Me
    111. Thy Tiny Bee
    112. “Dust of a Baptist” and “Southern Woman”: A Tribute to My Mother
    113. Abandoned Garden
    114. O Belovèd, My Divine Belovèd
    115. Love Thoughts Are Green Things
    116. Would that my sonnet shine
    117. Thou Hast a Sonnet’s Full Throat
    118. Lonely Offices
    119. Serendipity on a Gentle Breeze
    120. At Thy Sea
    121. A Soul Escaping the Soil
    122. Crickets in the Morning
    123. In Our Own Paradise
    124. The Open Window
    125. In the Shelter of Thy Glory
    126. Time—Being Precious
    127. Summer Arrives
    128. After the Affection of a Late Autumn
    129. Funky Notions
    130. A Love That Grows Far beneath the Skin
    131. Red Holiday
    132. As Tulips Dance & Sway
    133. Sacred Vision
    134. The Only Changeless
    135. A Rugged Vision She Loved, Loved
    136. The Exorcism
    137. The Beautiful Mother
    138. Gay Birds Dancing
  • Welcome to My Literary Home


    Rooms in My Literary Home

    poems, songs, essays, short stories, fables, recipes, commentaries

    Image: Created by Grok inspired by My 8 Books Photo by Linda Sue Grimes

    Thought of the Day

    March 18, 2026:

    Rooms in Linda’s Literary Home

    The rooms within my literary home include my library/music room where I compose and maintain my original writings in poetry, songs, literary fiction, expository essays, and poem commentaries.

    My literary home also includes rooms of tribute and memorials to beautiful souls who have graced my life and influenced my penchant for literary studies.

    In addition to literary works, I dabble in vegan/vegetarian cooking, so I dedicate my kitchen to holding and presenting the recipes that result from my adventures in the culinary arts.

    Because I remain spiritual-minded, I dedicate a temple/sanctuary to that spiritual inclination. ~Maya Shedd’s Temple~ holds personal musings about subjects that influence my life, especially my spiritual journey.

    Original Writings

    The following rooms will remain works in progress, as I continue to add to them from time to time.

    Life Sketches of and Commentaries on Poems by the following poets: 

    Image: The Whitewater River – Brookville, Indiana – Photo by Linda Sue Grimes

    A Special Soul

    One such room is an art gallery, featuring the paintings, as well as the prose renderings of the beautiful soul, Ron Grimes (Ron W. G., as he signs his paintings): Paintings and Prose.  My sweet Ron has continued to bring out the poetry in my life for over half a century; our married life together began on March 10, 1973.

    Beautiful Souls

    My literary home also offers dedicated rooms to beautiful souls who have graced my life and influenced my literary studies.

    My Kitchen

    Also in my literary home, I dedicate another room—my kitchen—to the recipes that result from adventures in the experimental culinary arts.

    I have been a vegetarian/vegan for most of my life, and thus I have found it necessary to revise or tweak most traditional recipes to accommodate my vegetarianism. So I am offering the results of that life journey.

    My Temple Sanctuary

    Finally, I have dedicated a sanctuary for meditation, prayer, and worship, “Maya Shedd’s Temple.” Before I rebuilt this lit site as Linda’s Literary Home, I maintained much of the construction here under the title “Maya Shedd’s Temple: Literary Home of Linda Sue Grimes.”

    In the temple, I place all things spiritual. I begin with a brief memoir explaining by reasons for following my spiritual path.

    The temple includes information about Paramahansa Yogananda and commentaries on his poetic works, beginning with Songs of the Soul.

    Guruji has explained that fallen humankind is under the spell of Maya or cosmic delusion. My goal is to lift that spell, thus “shed” the delusive veil of Maya: Maya Shedd.

    🕉

    Questions, comments, or suggestions offered in good faith are always welcome.

    Image: Swami Park, Encinitas, CA – August 2019 – Photo by Ron W. G.
    Image: Linda Sue Grimes – November 1, 2025 – Photo by Ron W. G.

    Come back and visit again soon!