Via Negativa

October 25, 2024 by Dave Bonta

Playful

To Whitehall, and so to dinner at the Wardrobe, where my wife met me, and there we met with a venison pasty, and my Lady very merry and very handsome, methought. After dinner my wife and I to the Opera, and there saw again “Love and Honour,” a play so good that it has been acted but three times and I have seen them all, and all in this week; which is too much, and more than I will do again a good while. Coming out of the house we met Mrs. Pierce and her comrade Mrs. Clifford, and I seeming willing to stay with them to talk my wife grew angry, and whether she be jealous or no I know not, but she loves not that I should speak of Mrs. Pierce. Home on foot very discontented, in my way I calling at the Instrument maker, Hunt’s, and there saw my lute, which is now almost done, it being to have a new neck to it and to be made to double strings. So home and to bed. This day I did give my man Will a sound lesson about his forbearing to give us the respect due to a master and mistress.

hands ought to play
three times a week

we seem to speak
my instrument and I

neck to strings
give a sound lesson

Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Friday 25 October 1661.

October 24, 2024 by Luisa A. Igloria

Slow Design

river in November light between bare woods and mountain


Nice tie. Nice shirt. Nice shoes. Nice hat.  
People like to ask where you bought it, 

how much it cost, whether you paid 
full price or got it on sale. Along

the bottom of the shirt, an even row 
of stitches; buttons snugly attached in 

contrasting thread. Their sameness 
and regularity means they were made

on a machine. But some makers have
gone back to doing things by hand—

panels fuse together, as needle and 
thread pick a careful track up and down, 

from side to side. The cobbler cradles 
a wooden last on her lap, tapping holes 

in leather with an awl. It takes a long time 
before the parts come, beautifully, together.

October 24, 2024 by Dave Bonta

Tuned out

At the office all morning, at noon Luellin dined with me, and then abroad to Fleet Street, leaving my wife at Tom’s while I went out and did a little business. So home again, and went to see Sir Robert, who continues ill, and this day has not spoke at all, which makes them all afeard of him. So home.

the morning din
road to street leaving
a little tin ear

Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Thursday 24 October 1661.

October 23, 2024 by Dave Bonta

Oceanic

To Whitehall, and there, to drink our morning, Sir W. Pen and I to a friend’s lodging of his (Collonell Treswell), and at noon he and I dined together alone at the Legg in King Street, and so by coach to Chelsy to my Lord Privy Seal’s about business of Sir William’s, in which we had a fair admittance to talk with my Lord, and had his answer, and so back to the Opera, and there I saw again “Love and Honour,” and a very good play it is. And thence home, calling by the way to see Sir Robert Slingsby, who continues ill, and so home.
This day all our office is invited against Tuesday next, my Lord Mayor’s day, to dinner with him at Guildhall. This evening Mr. Holliard came and sat with us, and gave us both directions to observe.

a drink and I
alone at the sea

an answer to love
calling in all directions

Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Wednesday 23 October 1661.

October 22, 2024 by Dave Bonta

Among the missing

At the office all the morning, where we had a deputation from the Duke in his absence, he being gone to Portsmouth, for us to have the whole disposal and ordering of the Fleet. In the afternoon about business up and down, and at night to visit Sir R. Slingsby, who is fallen sick of this new disease, an ague and fever. So home after visiting my aunt Wight and Mrs. Norbury (who continues still a very pleasant lady), and to supper, and so to bed.

all the absence in one mouth

who is out at night
who is fallen
who continues

Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Tuesday 22 October 1661.

October 22, 2024October 21, 2024 by Luisa A. Igloria

Ghazal: Indulgence

The penitent must perform certain acts besides prayer—
good works and pilgrimages— to receive an indulgence.

Even after forgiveness through confession, you're told
more is needed to restore the soul; hence, the indulgence.

This can sound confusing, even a little bit medieval, especially
when taking into account modern meanings of indulgence.

Even more confusing are those Catholic prayers called ejaculations:
utterances to direct the petitioner's mind to God, not as indulgence—

Eternal rest grant unto us, o Lord. Mother of Mercy, pray for us.
Queen of peace, pray for us. Do you ever feel prayer can be indulgent,

that it deflects attention away from the present, in favor of an
afterlife? Is there any shrine that isn't even a bit indulgent?

Another hospital has been bombed, another school, another
shelter. Mother of orphans, pray for us even as we indulge

in the privilege of leisure, a good cry, a walk by the sea.
Works of mercy and charity, acts of indulgence—

what's the purgatory of the soul, if this life already cycles between
trial and suffering? O my heart, desirous of grace and indulgence.

October 21, 2024October 21, 2024 by Dave Bonta

Poetry Blog Digest 2024, Week 42

A personal selection of posts from the Poetry Blogging Network and beyond. Although I tend to quote my favorite bits, please do click through and read the whole posts. You can also browse the blog digest archive at Via Negativa or, if you’d like it in your inbox, subscribe on Substack (where the posts might be truncated by some email providers).

This week: a head full of dreams, the stillness of a bell, big magic, an impish shadow, and more. Enjoy!

October 21, 2024October 21, 2024 by Luisa A. Igloria

Metaphor Means to Carry Over

Yes, there are likely more times 
that color is only what tinges the curtains, 
the paint in these rooms, or the eyes 

of your lover. What else is there to think of ?
When you look at a broken bridge, the fire-
ravaged mountain, a flooded town, 

yes, they are what they are, but they 
are also all the ways in which you feel 
fraught.  In the impossibility of turning 

away from circumstance, you want 
to look for a sign, any sign, that fills
the hours with more than just 

endlessness. Perhaps it holds out two 
hands, and some possibility of choice.

October 20, 2024October 20, 2024 by Dave Bonta

Desolation

Early with Mr. Moore by coach to Chelsy, to my Lord Privy Seal’s, but have missed of coming time enough; and having taken up Mr. Pargiter, the goldsmith (who is the man of the world that I do most know and believe to be a cheating rogue), we drank our morning draft there together of cake and ale, and did make good sport of his losing so much by the King’s coming in, he having bought much of Crown lands, of which, God forgive me! I am very glad. At Whitehall, at the Privy Seal, did with Sir W. Pen take advice about passing of things of his there that concern his matters of Ireland. Thence to the Wardrobe and dined, and so against my judgment and conscience (which God forgive, for my very heart knows that I offend God in breaking my vows herein) to the Opera, which is now newly begun to act again, after some alteracion of their scene, which do make it very much worse; but the play, “Love and Honour,” being the first time of their acting it, is a very good plot, and well done. So on foot home, and after a little business done in my study and supper, to bed.

I have missed enough
of the world I most believe in

we together losing
the land to war

against conscience my god
my new gun again

some love being
the one business

Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Monday 21 October 1661.

October 20, 2024October 20, 2024 by Dave Bonta

Mountaineer

(Lord’s day). At home in bed all the morning to ease my late tumour, but up to dinner and much offended in mind at a proud trick my man Will hath got, to keep his hat on in the house, but I will not speak of it to him to-day; but I fear I shall be troubled with his pride and laziness, though in other things he is good enough. To church in the afternoon, where a sleepy Presbyter preached, and then to Sir W. Batten who is to go to Portsmouth to-morrow to wait upon the Duke of York, who goes to take possession and to set in order the garrison there. Supped at home and to bed.

at home as a tumor
a man is on the peak

with his pride and the ache
to take possession

Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Sunday 20 October 1661.