Monday, November 20, 2017

For Her Birthday

When first I saw your smiling face arrive,
To cross onto the stage that is my life;
I knew that I was blessed to be alive,
But circumstance did cut me like a knife.

Yet time does pass, and circumstances change;
And this held to for us, as time progressed.
'Til history, to us, made all things strange,
And too, my love for you, I had confessed.

Now time has come to celebrate your birth
And all the pleasant moments we have had.
To show that you are wanted- you have worth;
That you are loved through good times and the bad.

Though many birthdays have, without me, passed,
I pray you let me make them up at last.


For many years I've contemplated,
Ponder'd, thought, and dreamed
Of poems for the unrequited-
Love and lust that seemed

The nature of the ancient wordcraft,
Heart and soul of verse.
Like Woodsmen hold an old oak haft,
I held to this curse.

It seemed I grew to love the missing,
Known, and yet unmet.
My craft was just a flower of wishing,
Thorned by my regret.

Until the day I came to ask you,
"Let me know your heart."
To, with my nerve exposed, beseech you,
Please, to fuel my art.

May, ne'er again, my pen be blighted
By this ancient curse.
May, from now on, the unrequited
Never soil my verse.

Sonnet XX: For Winter

When summertime has come and gone again,
And leaves have fallen, baring branch and limb,
And cold sets in, that brings the death of men,
And old fir trees are cut and decked with trim,

I find myself enchanted by the air
And dreaming of the season's bygone past-
Wishing, then, that I could still be there,
Not knowing that the feeling would not last.

I dream of winters eve's on daddy's knee,
Bouncing as we watched his western shows,
And coming in from cold to cups of tea
To warm my freezing, red, and running nose

And nothing does quite set my heart aglow
As when the weather-man says, "There'll be snow."

Soft Silence

In soft silence, I find echoes in my ear:
The longing ghost of temperate melody;
The song, angelic, of your voice I hear;
Weaving words into a tapestry.

My mind whispers with the phrases spake
And with all the intonation clear.
The silence brings a missing I can't take
With your voice aflutter in my ear.

Then, so, I find me called to call your name,
And ask of you what progress do you make,
To hear whatever passing you proclaim,
To, in that melody, some solace take.

Monday, August 21, 2017

Sonnet XIX

What soft and gentle radiance abounds
When, any time, your form a threshold cross.
With none has brilliance ever so been found
As that from you, and your fair tempered gloss.

For every room you enter is aglow,
And all the shadows therein are dismissed,
As though there is a spotlight, at your toe,
Announcing to the world that you exist.

As though the grace of nature had foreseen,
Without announcement, none would have believed
That you exist, and so, bore you a sheen
That you should ever, in its light, be wreathed-

That mortal men should marvel in your grace,
And, by perfection, know their rightly place.

Friday, August 18, 2017

A Word About Charlottesville

Considering the current political climate, my broadly diverse political and social affiliations, and the recent events in #Charlottesville, I feel I am obliged to expound upon my perspective.

As a member of a multi-ethnic family with a two Black sisters-in-law, multiple Biracial and Black nieces and nephews; being the father of a Multi-ethnic child and being engaged to an Hispanic woman; and having been a long-time proponent of real discussions on race, ethnicity, and culture as a way to move forward; I find the behavior, beliefs, rhetoric, and symbolism used by the disgusting pigs in the beautiful town of Charlottesville, VA to be among the most abhorrent and embarrassing aspects of the reality of modern America. These terrorists, and that they are, must be called out, ostracized, shunned, and combated in the forum of public discourse. We, as a nation, must stand firm. We must accept that these cretins are a cancer that has grown from our own tissues and is fed from our own blood. We must accept this, and wherever this cancer does harm it must be excised from the body of our society. To say that these bigotted shitheads are not US is to lie about our own cultural history and identity, but to say that we accept them- to say that their evil should be tolerated in the forum of public discourse- is to give up the fight and let the cancer consume us at its own pace. It is the moral obligation of every red-blooded American to call these monstrosities out for what they are and to disassociate ourselves from any interaction or affiliation, social or financial, with them.

My own brothers, my late father and grandfathers, and many dear friends served this country and fought against fascists, authoritarians, and terrorist cowards in defense of our natural rights; let us not sit idly by while these useless wastes of oxygen abuse theirs to promote the removal of those of others.

For the Record:

It is not acceptable, nor is it legal, for the abstract monopoly of force that is the state to be exerted upon a person solely because of their political, moral, religious, or other beliefs, affiliations, or speech.

Further, it is illegal for a private citizen to exert force on another except as between consenting, competent adults, or as a means of self-defense.

However, if one accepts that there will be legal punitive consequences, and has the fortitude to withstand said consequences, and the opposing person in question is, in fact, a bigotted shithead espousing genocide and inciting violence; it is morally imperative to bludgeon such a person about the head, with or without a blunt instrument, until such time as their maxillo-facial region should cease to function; likely requiring multiple surgical interventions.

Pax Tecum Semper

J. T. Hartzfeld

Friday, November 4, 2016

On Form

When it comes to the literary arts, bondage is my kink. The more restrictive the form, the more excited about it I become.

#WordPorn #Poetry #SonnetsForever