Libby Weber's Blog, page 5

December 28: How I Won The War

As one conversant with verse, rhyme, and scansion,

And long-familiar forms of poetry,

It’s not surprising I should seek expansion

From borders of familiarity.

Though language’s music is eternal,

Specific phrases and their orchestrations

Can bring about acknowledgment internal

That such things, as Wilde wrote, produce vibrations.

And so when watching other tales that came

A few years after those I know too well,

They cannot but my memory inflame,

Along with pride that it was done so well.

Though kismet mi...

December 27: The Inspiration Game

It’s one thing to lack motivation when

There are a dozen things you’d rather do,

Like listen to beloved comedians

Pretend to fly a man to Timbuktu.

It’s quite another when you’d rather write

The thoughts to form the basis of a story

And not the piece that must be done tonight,

As it occurs in mental territory-

Ideas, like rabbits, tend to reproduce

When shielded from the crush of worldly stresses,

Yet their abundant presence can’t reduce

Anxieties that spring from their excesses.

Wild fancies sparked fro...

December 26: On the Feast of Stephen

Though Boxing Day has long-observed traditions,

In my household, we’ve had to make our own:

A day of rest for Christmas-worn musicians

We celebrate by tuning out the phone,

Then making copious puns with cherished friends

And toasting the atrocious ones with glee.

Or being glad when water line descends

When snaking plumbing that’s been clogged with tea.

Whatever rite or ritual we choose

Be it necessity or frivolous,

Enlightening or simply to amuse,

The impetus to do it came from us.

Our guiding principle...

December 25: Merry Little Christmas

Sometimes, a family Christmas will consist

Of sitting on the carpet with your spouse

While both of you are alternately kissed

And cuddled by the canines of the house,

And rather than a sleigh ride through the drifts,

A walk around an isthmus in the bay,

Instead of six-course dinners after gifts,

A simple meal for two will do today.

Each commonplace activity gains meaning

When busy lives demand time spent apart,

So gratitude for festive intervening

In moments such as this will fill my heart.

May pride and...

December 24: The Mystery Gift

A heavy box arrived, one surface ripped

And fearing for the worst, I looked inside,

But for the contents I was ill-equipped,

And so I held them to my chest and cried-

Two volumes, out-of-print and long desired

And added to my wish list as a lark;

A gift whose choice seems perfectly inspired,

And in that perfect moment hit its mark.

The box contained no clue as to the senders,

Though only my immediate family

Knew of that list, so there were few contenders,

And he admitted his identity.

Dear brother, I wea...

December 23: Baroque Fix

A day of tediousness and pointless stresses

Combined with ever-growing to-do lists,

Is one that unavoidably depresses,

Inexorable snappishness persists

Until this truly frivolous annoyance

Must needs compete for vanishing attention

Against the zenith of Baroque flamboyance;

Complexity defying comprehension.

As dark can only be destroyed by light

And hate can only be destroyed by love

Banality with Bach we all shall smite,

Via Vivaldi we’ll raise songs above.

When days are filled with sputtering invective...

December 22: Setback and Forth

And endless litany of work demands

That’s followed by the thrill of voicing song

With cherished friends and those with gifted hands,

Then followed by new music in a throng,

Supplanted then by comprehensive mope,

Upon deliverance of lousy news

About a thing for which I’d dare to hope,

Yet gentle hugs frustrations can defuse.

Discouraged, sad, and tired though I may be,

My last work day is scheduled for tomorrow

Before few precious days of liberty-

To think on that will soften any sorrow.

Tomorrow, I shall...

December 21: In the Dark

The darkest hour is often said to be

Before the dawn, but those who know the verges

Of night and day acknowledge they will see

A lightened sky before the sun emerges.

The hour at which the night is most persistent:

That midmost point between sunset and rise,

As any solstice should be equidistant

From equinoctes as each season dies.

And now that I myself am just beyond

The bleakest hour of this, the longest night,

I scan the sky for signs that it has dawned

And hope that looming clouds sun shall ignite.

O...

December 20: Sum

A whole can be, as Aristotle said,

So much more than the sum of all its parts,

But if we look at sum itself instead,

Linguistic variation it imparts.

For starters, dim sum, when enjoyed with friends

Is so much more than lunch with tasty food,

In Latin, sum’s “to be,” which then portends

A verb irregular and misconstrued.

And this is why our sums and our subtractions

Have multiplied as our divisions spread.

There is no function then, for mere abstractions

Accounting for those languages long dead.

Some tex...

December 19: Wassail

The beautiful guitar I mostly-play,

Dave’s flute and twelve-string, Janet’s dulcet cello

And Jeff’s tin whistles join, one winter’s day

To lead O’Brien’s Pub in merry bellow.

The words are garbled, some don’t know the tune,

And calls for Free Bird happen frequently,

But none to Christmas carols is immune,

Especially when we’re in the same key.

And this is why we come from year to year,

With different leaders and with different casts

To raise a glass or three of Christmas beer

To keep tradition, hoping m...