Hopes Surpassed

#237

Welcome back. I was just flipping through one of my notebooks. The “Canon” of my writing. My personal schedule did not permit me to post last week, but I woke up an hour early this morning. (I’m writing this on Thursday morning, January 30th.) I decided to make the effort. You can decide if it was worth it.

This week’s selection is a Crybin Variant Petrarchan, ABBAABBA CDECDE.

Photo taken by me at ten to seven in the morning on January 20th. Third coffee and cigarette on my porch.

Hopes Surpassed
#237

The broad plateau ‘pon which I stand today,
Surrounded, as it is, by brambled mess,
Remains for me a trophy of success,
For that through which I passed was sheer dismay.
Emotions that were once in disarray,
As fought I through my personal distress,
Have all been settled, thoughts now coalesce
That guide me now towards a brighter day.

And you, Calliope, my treasured muse,
From long before you led my pen to bleed,
Enabled the redemption from my past
When I, like Dylan, was a slave to booze.
Provided you to me my every need,
My will is strong and all my hopes surpassed.

Frank Garnick

© Copyright The Archer's March
27 February 2023

Not counting the skipped week, this is two posts in a row to Calliope. Really, everything I write is to her. Not counting political commentary, which I try to avoid here. I want this area of my life to be apolitical.

My writing is both an escape from the dark, fractious, and deafening noise of my (our?) world and a refuge of light, hope and internal growth. It’d be nice if this outlet could provide an income, but regardless, I need this outlet.

Any specific and personal reference in this piece is not important to you, my dear readers. You can make your suppositions concerning them and/or relate in your own way.

In this sonnet, Dylan is a first name reference of a celebrated Welshman, not the adopted last name of a certain Nobel Laureate from Minnesota.

Thank you for reading and have a wonderful day.

Feel free to buy me a coffee if you’ve a mind to.