It's Poetry

Hello, this is Amy. As you saw in my bio, I attempt to catch some of the beauty of the world with poetry, so I was delighted to be asked to contribute to Carmina. This is not my first poem, but I wrote it recently, and it is about poetry itself, so it seems most fitting to be my first post.


Arrange the words like this and see:
What do you have? 
It's poetry.
The way the lines are loose and free
What is that?
It's poetry.

Even a poem
that does not rhyme
is poetry
just because
the words do not just speak
but somehow 
sing.

Feel the meter as you read,
Like pounding hooves upon the ground.
The rhythm beats into your heart
Almost music, without a sound.

Corny rhymes like "tree" and "we"
Do not make it
Poetry.
Place each word deliberately,
Then you'll have
Some poetry.

So whether your poem rhymes or not,
However the meter starts and stops,
Set your mind at liberty,
Make each word ring beautifully,
And we who read will all agree
That what we see
is poetry.


Amy Young, 2013

The Second First Poem

Long ago, the first poem was put forth on Carmina. Many, many decades have passed (all right, maybe a little more than a year) and many things changed. My poems have changed; I'm sure Camille's have as well. A delightful new member has joined our adventure. It's our hope that things will be more exciting (certainly more active) around here.

Thus we begin.

I, Allison, wrote this several months ago and, not able to arrange it all perfectly to my satisfaction, I stuck it away in a file and forgot about it. Later, and more recently, I got over the imperfect lines and stuck it on my personal blog, where it was well received by an extremely small audience. With perfect timing came the re-starting of Carmina. So, here you are. Feel free to throw in title suggestions (or any other remarks) in the comments.

A pale sphere hangs in star-flecked night

An incandescent sapphire light

Hung by an unseen silken strand

Held by an unseen steady hand

Never swerving, ever true

Swirled by clouds of white and blue

Finer gears than any clock

Finer pins than any lock

They ever turn behind sight’s veil

Steadying a perfect scale

Every motion aptly made

Not a balance ever swayed

This sapphire hangs detached, alone

Rarely thought but ever known

Whirling, yet serenely still

Bustling, silent, thriving, chill

Who could form this cloud-swirled ball

Its workings, orchestrate them all

What man could hang it by its line

Its flawless midnight course align

What hand could bear its unthought weight

Or dare to hold the threads of fate

How could a humble man believe

That chance perfection could achieve

How dare the ones beneath the sky

Convince themselves of such a lie

A silent sapphire screams the truth

Look anywhere and see the proof

And still we turn our heads away

Refuse to hear the words they say

The heavens never hide their dance

We’ve eyes to see the night’s expanse

To gaze and see what has been made

A Maker’s glory is displayed

Can we deny this perfect jewel

Is under high and perfect rule

There it hangs for all to see

Accusing us eternally.

Allison Young, 2013

Starting again!

Hello, friends!

I am pleased to say that Allison and I, with our new contributor, Amy (check the Contributors page for her bio) will be starting up Carmina once again. We are excited to begin this endeavor and, hopefully, to keep it going. See you soon! :)

Camille