Or: How a Gift Turned into a Creative Exercise.
My girlfriend of many years is having a birthday soon. This not your typical birth anniversary, though; she is turning 65. This is an event of some significance. With it’s passage, you can no longer pretend to be middle aged, much less young. It is the widely recognized if unofficial start of Old Age. Around this time, younger folks start asking you if you need help loading your groceries or hauling your luggage. You get called “sir” or “maam” a lot more than you used to. Medicare, senior discounts, and assorted tax breaks take some of the sting out of it, but still it’s still a jolt.
Carolyn gave me no hint whatsoever what she wanted for this milestone event. Which is a problem because I am a terrible gift shopper. I got her a few gifts of the type she typically likes. But that didn’t seem to be quite enough.
So I wrote her a poem, a sonnet to be specific. There are several styles of these. I chose the English style, probably the most common, for no particular reason. The format consists of three “quatrains,” or four line stanzas, followed by a two line finale, called the “turn,” which is meant to shift the meaning and serve as something of a punch line. Each quatrain is like a chapter in the overall story. Individual quatrains rhyme on alternate lines: ABAB, the final two lines rhyme on the last syllable. Each line is ten syllables. Traditional forms favor archaic linguistic conventions, though these are not mandatory.
This is my first stab at poetry in at least fifty years, and my first sonnet, ever. It was something of a challenge. Because of the constraints, every word must be weighed against every other. You do a lot of counting of syllables on your fingers. The forced brevity imbues every word with enhanced meaning. It’s equal parts creative endeavor and a problem solving exercise.
Like most complex problems, it follows the Pareto Principle, also known as the 20/80 rule, because the first 20 percent of the project takes 80 percent of the time and the last 80 percent takes 20 percent of the time. It also turned out to be a surprisingly good cognitive workout for both left and right hemispheres. My brain took quite a hit from the sepsis episode back in ’22, and this was excellent therapy.
Anyway, here it is. The second quatrain is a reference to Medicare, if it isn’t obvious.
The days, the months, the years, swift do they go.
Arrow of Time hurtles. All is a blur.
The hourglass empties, grain by grain, and so
Comes this moment; a milestone we incur.
The tally: Five dozen years plus five more,
Ample, for certain, yet granting a pledge
Of succor, for when old flesh doth spoil or
Trend unsteady, or hath lost vital edge.
Some bear this passage poorly, some with grace.
My love is of the latter : “No big deal.”
Mane of ginger, eyes of jade, scarce a trace
Of Time’s cruel hand hath etched her fair appeal.
Many years and tears. How much yet awaits?
Not of our bidding, but rather of Fate’s.