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JOURNEY COMPANIONS: THE FRIEND SONNETS PART II

Cyndi MacMillan Avatar Cyndi MacMillan - LIFETIME Premium Member Cyndi MacMillan - Premium MemberPremium Member Send Soup Mail Go to Poets Blog Block poet from commenting on your poetry

Below is the poem entitled JOURNEY COMPANIONS: THE FRIEND SONNETS PART II which was written by poet Cyndi MacMillan. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.

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JOURNEY COMPANIONS: THE FRIEND SONNETS PART II

HEROES

Near somber guards, units of children heap 
dead leaves, naive to any else fallen.
Friend, you chuckle, but your posture speaks
of duty on this day of contradictions.

Firefighters bow heads in silent paean, 
while polished trucks stand at attention.
Families have again answered the call
to attend this festival, so uncommon.

Here, laughter rings around the memorial
for exuberance must never be doused,
Gloriously wrought, a sculpture of angels
commiserates with each mourning house.

You say, I see valor in lives that inspire.
 I see heroes and their lines of fire.


*For Craig

NEW DALI

Surreal, the way a contortionist knots
himself as the escape artist breaks free.  
Uptown, buskers beckon with what-naughts,
drawing thousands. Candyland, sighs New-Dali

at its epicenter, his true element,
and he takes it in: the sword swallower,
blindfolds, jugglers, clowns miming laments,
fire-fed gals, stilted-men and tots taller 

on shoulders. This carnival can endear,
turn heads, but only one with a seer-heart
studies the music box dancer, then swears
that she spins perfect webs with street-smarts.

Mirroring that swivel, awed by his entourage,
He becomes centrum to his own collage.


*For Chan, fully alive in Heaven.


SNIPPETS

Your brows are up. The Princess Cinema
is not your choice. C'mon, I don't fit here,
you snort. You, with all your charisma 
and kindness, stand in a short line, fearing

boredom or worse ... pretense. Promise me,
that we aren't about to wallow through
subtitles, you sigh.  Give me clarity,
a story, something that I can relate to.

But the charm catches you by surprise,
a star-struck atmosphere, the seats are new
and the popcorn is still warm. Friendly eyes
laugh, then amusement streams from you

for these Global TV spots simply delight
like each snippet that you joyfully write.


*For Andrea




TARTANS

There be Scots as farrrrrr as the eye can see.
Brawn calves and bright kilts delight lasses 
while pipers swagger out of the pub, tipsy.
Your smile broadens as a caber is tossed

end over end. Then, across the glen, highland                      
dancers in ghillies beckon with hearty flings.
Auch, it’s hot yet heather dare no’ wilt. Clans
gather, roguishly rib each other, as wool spins

in wheels. Aye, the romance can fair overwhelm
e’en the sensible. Worse for we, the fanciful. 
Come, here’s the tea tent. Let soft fiddles calm
as we nibble oatcakes. Tartans and tunes pull

heartstrings. We sit raptly, lost in Brigadoon,
put pen to napkin to let wee thistles bloom. 


* For Francine

TESTIMONIALS

Rustling maples break vows of silence,
naturally. As pleased, spears of hyacinth  
worship breezes with such soft reverence
that we give pause in this living labyrinth. 

Nothing here is still; wood thrush reverb
good news and cicadas buzz testimonials.
Nearby, a creek mumbles, Word-Word
while squirrels glorify their bounty. All

is abuzz with joy, save for the shade
under a weathered cross; it’s emptiness
resurrects veneration. A butterfly wades
the sudden hush, lands on your hand, nests.

My friend, you lift it to wood, sympathizing 
on bent knee, speechlessly evangelizing. 

*For Brian

ON THE FRINGE

Your eyes drink the hues of the Shisha Lounge:
art on walls, art brewing over charcoal.
This coffee ceremony is on the fringe,
far from the pallid and staid. I’ve marveled

at these dear blends, how culture can transcend 
barriers and ignorance. We order too much.
Tibsy, zignie, timtimo.. injera bends 
to each spiced delicacy as our plates touch. 

Gone is this haven where pleasure was shared.
Still, I’ll bring you there. Scribe, man of integrity,
sit with me. Exhale poetry. Imbibe tribal air. 
Mine, this moment and mine, this memory

but that mystifying brew, that receptive floor,
the smoke refined by deep respect… each are yours.  

*For my cuz, Scribe


SUMMERLAND

A warbling vireo hops from oak to elm.
Your gaze wanders, too. This amphitheater
hosts the lyrical, almost overwhelms,
for beyond the mill ruins, the Grand River

is deep in thought, reflecting. It’s as though myth
lives; Summerland has come to the hillside 
where weathered fieldstones beguile the impish
to dance. They do or else tin flutes will chide.

Though cozy the spot,  the world's at our feet.
Tanned toes can not help but tap. Strong is the lure
of pipes and those songs that dulcimers keep.
When night softly falls, one group brings rapture. 

They sing until stars tire and all are hoarse
like poets rousing words to supplicate verse.

*For Carrie


WORD ON THE STREET, 2009


Pure pageantry, how publishers' banners
wave over tents. Flocks of readers graze
on glossy trades, leaflets, hardcovers,
chapbooks. My friend, a true gent, stays
his ground. Maybe, it is the press of page;
Its forthright weave petitions for slants,
favors unique fonts, yet gilds no edge,
sees no need for illustration, just verdant
language. I did not intend to read
over his shoulder. He grins good-naturedly,
tweed makes an allowance. Each line, poetry,
he praises and I still my chatter. We feed
on gems, unrushed, but their brilliance spurs
a verbose woman and a man of his word.


*For David

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  1. Date: 2/11/2014 10:00:00 PM
    Cyndi I hope she does not need our permission for the blog, does she? You can tell her I have no problem at all if she wants to mention me. Will she be asking our permission personally? Please let me know. It's so thrilling!!

  1. Date: 2/8/2014 9:33:00 AM
    So very honored Cyndi and thank you all for your kind words. You Cyndi are truly an inspiration to me, your writing in it's depth and diversity is a rare gift. For you to even mention my name is, well, since you are a hero (not heroine lol) to me--pretty darn special. Love ya lots for everything you are--great writer, Mom, friend, and sassy little devil with the right amount of vulnerability mixed in!!

  1. Date: 2/3/2014 6:58:00 PM
    Craig so good, we are all truly blessed to have him share with us, great job again Dee. Light & Love

  1. Date: 2/2/2014 9:29:00 AM
    "Here, laughter rings around the memorial for exuberance must never be doused, Gloriously wrought, a sculpture of angels commiserates with each mourning house." A very nice poem. This verse is very beautiful but sad.

  1. Date: 2/2/2014 8:50:00 AM
    A beautiful sonnet for Craig, he is always the Hero, even here on the soup. hugs, catie :)

  1. Date: 2/1/2014 10:21:00 PM
    Yes, I could get that sense of Craig essence in this sonnet. He is a "cornerstone of society" type of man!! Great juxtaposition that you used too.

  1. Date: 2/1/2014 4:12:00 PM
    Soup Mail- SOS!

  1. Date: 2/1/2014 11:53:00 AM
    this knocks me off my feet, soul sis; a true refection of craig.. unwavering, compassionate, and bold.. ohh your last lines, the volta, caps the whole sonnet... your series is unrivaled, cyn!.. will soupy you soon!.. huggs

  1. Date: 2/1/2014 5:36:00 AM
    Cyndi great sonnet, check out ( not on soup) Noel Petty "Air Raid Warning " I think you will be in for a fun surprise, I posted one in the same form many moons ago...and there are many others out there....David

  1. Date: 2/1/2014 2:03:00 AM
    Craig is one of my favourite poets here..He does write from his gut and heart..I just love anything He writes..It always feels so real.Excellent tribute Cyndi.

  1. Date: 2/1/2014 2:02:00 AM
    Craig is one of my favourite poets here..He does write from his gut and heart..I just love anything He writes..It always feels so real.Excellent tribute Cyndi.

  1. Date: 1/31/2014 10:09:00 PM
    :-) Lovely, Cyndi. Craig is one of my fav poets. He will be honored by your lovely write.. I loved the first two lines...What a joy it can be to be oblivious to pain..suffering....and death. Having said that, I do feel for those who go through it all for love of country.....Lovely sonnet....