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Why a Sonnet About the Poetry of the Pitter Patter of Little Feet?

Not the Look of a Writer

Too much fun around here!

Too much fun around here!

Pitter Patter

How sweet the sound of early morning feet

Upon what floor are they so neat to greet

A boy makes the morning come alive again

Will this day his call be find us the gain

What child is this that wins our heart and hearth

Pray Lord you give us such love completed

I am your right side and well seated

Will you slay my ugly beast inside me

Do you care if I am that ugly beast

That boy in my home is far from least

Is it “so be it” that we don’t control it

We have no influence not a one bit

Give no heaven on my accord but his

You have spoken and love just you that is

If I Were A Simple Man

A Brother's Gift

So cool, carved in Da Nang Vietnam

So cool, carved in Da Nang Vietnam

I Am Living Still

Be critical I am having some issues with pentámetro yámbico or in English i·am·bic pen·tam·e·ter.

Seems like rhyming is less than important. But I rhyme. Heck my son and his mom like that better.

So I have been reading up on this style of poetry but I have to do it a bunch more to feel it right. I write it and then try to make it fit the custom/style maybe that is not so good. I have so many poet friends I am sure that if you are frank with me I can do better.

The pitter patter of footsteps is real. My wife and son get up and for each I hear their little footsteps. Mom is 98 lbs soaking wet and the boy is now 85 lbs totally dry on my scale. Hmm, he steals our socks though he has 994 of his own. I am glad they do not wear them at night or I could not discern who is up and at it in the morn.

Isn’t poetry so much fun? For me it is still sometimes a challenge though I can write just natural rhymes ok.

Sometimes I wonder if life is a poem. Certainly poetic when you love things like children and nature. Prose has me confused as well. I think a meadow filled by beautiful wild daisies is prose, but the leaves in a tree with a gentle wind is poetry. A mountain brook rhymes without reason. A child sleeping in fantastic slumber I think a song maybe. And what of the Psalms? How cool are they. The Dalai Lama seems to speak in prose. Are parables a type of poetry?

My son showed me once about a beat for night clubs for dancing in the background yet as a he writes his music it is not there – I think just poetry. He just does it naturally. Leader in a rock and roll band. Could it be genetic? Not likely I figure.

Nature verses nurture may actually be factors though I do not know. Sometimes I wonder if fitting poetry into a specific pattern is poetry at all. Seems like an antithesis to me. Kind of like an oxymoron if you get my drift.

Poetry In Motion

We will move on and up.

We will move on and up.

Maybe a Writer is Just a Desperado Waiting

Maybe Most Should Not Be Happy Like Me

So what of this thing called poetry? We watched a show just last night about the Cat in the Hat. Doctor Seuss had his own poetry I reckon. He lived just up the block from my one/won time office in La Jolla CA. Ocean waves have a beat. I do not know if it is poetry.

My elder son and I were on an epic journey in a run down motorhome. (a tale to tell) So we broke down on the shoulder of the fast lane. No way to pull out into seventy mile an hour traffic. But my son started doing a beat out loud. He said it was like waves he surfed on. And he would count the seconds between the flow of traffic. I got into it. Boom boom boom boom boom and so on. We got the engine up and running and then did our boom boom boom and got out between flows. San Jose way. Poetry for sure and maybe a Psalm in there?

For many moons I have declared that I “can’t” write poetry but now it seems that was cant. Perhaps I looked down on poetry. But maybe that was being sanctimonious with me? Did I really think that I was better than poetry with all its rules? In the box or outside of the box. What I write for a living is by strict rules yet I eschewed them in creative writing

Could it be that others can learn from me. Do not ever say the a word like maybe. Never say the word I can’t and mean it. Say the word and I can albeit. Slave away at your masters chore. But never ever leave or regret what you adore. My children teach me every single day. To try your best even to your dismay. Light it up with a thousand candle. Never will it be more than you can handle. Break and you down for in that joy be found. A million cries for a day allows us to dismay. But do not ever ever forget this wonderful day.

And so inside each precious moment I kind of find some solace here and there. What a great world our Lord has given us. To precious to waste on I can’t. Step up. Cook a meal that you simply do not think you can. Hug a homeless like a fellow man. Oh the stink and grossness fades away so quickly as the love overwhelms any negative.

Thank you for reading my happy poemetry. I know it has not summitry.

Comments

Eric Dierker (author) from Spring Valley, CA. U.S.A. on May 19, 2019:

Tim, so apologies for coming back so late. Finally a fog is lifting in a sense.If you promise to make this day the best since yesterday then I will also.

Tim Truzy from U.S.A. on May 17, 2019:

Beautiful sonnet, Eric. The sound of feet is just as musical as a poem. I enjoyed this immensely. Bless your talent.

Respect and admiration,

Tim

Eric Dierker (author) from Spring Valley, CA. U.S.A. on May 12, 2019:

True That bro Manatita.

I like the word game. Of course a game like chess, of course a game animal. But best is "game on". And of course Sir Arthur Conan Doyle; The game is afoot. I am game with that! We are up for the challenge of Love.

manatita44 from london on May 12, 2019:

Indeed! But God has given them a necessary veil so that this whole game works, Bro. Cool, eh?

Eric Dierker (author) from Spring Valley, CA. U.S.A. on May 12, 2019:

Manatita I often wonder what the "rich" people are doing such today. Might be interesting but my feet are tickling me in the garden. I hear tell some folks have gardeners. How cool for the gardener how sad for the land holder.

manatita44 from london on May 12, 2019:

Beautifuull!!!

Eric Dierker (author) from Spring Valley, CA. U.S.A. on May 12, 2019:

Oh my Manatita, eight presents, including a heart shaped rock a huge hand made poster card, favorite flowers. A card in Vietnamese sealed the deal.

Love is such a great thing to share.

manatita44 from london on May 12, 2019:

Yes, they are the same thing:

"There is only one thing that was, is and forever shall be, and that is Love: the Love that created, the Love that nourishes, the Love that sustains God's universe." - Sri Chinmoy

Happy Mothering Sunday, Bro

Eric Dierker (author) from Spring Valley, CA. U.S.A. on May 12, 2019:

Hey Manatita thank you so much for hurting my feeling LoL. OK I can see I have to study the lingua of prose and poetry.

So I was reading some on Chinmoy. I think he equates consciousness with love. Maybe not but I sure like the idea.

We played tickle wrestling last night - Oh my what fun!

Eric Dierker (author) from Spring Valley, CA. U.S.A. on May 12, 2019:

Thanks a bunch John it is great to hear from you. I wish for you to be more like me. All I have is time to play! ;-)

Eric Dierker (author) from Spring Valley, CA. U.S.A. on May 12, 2019:

Merry Mother's Day Ms. Lum. And many more I pray. A constant lifting up of me. Let's make this a great day.

manatita44 from london on May 12, 2019:

Very, very cute, sweet, charming … nice rhythm and flow.

I won't be frank with you at all, as I'm all about sweetness and creativity. Format/Structure, like all things in life, has it's usefulness, but you and I should have gone past that by now. We are all about Love, aren't we? Your offering is very sweet and special. Simplicity and innocence are great virtues, that way you do not have a huge elephant on your shoulder weighing you down. Leave that for the scholars, academics …

Quite fun in your last two or three paragraphs and a joy to read! You worked that poetry well. Poetry is music and music is the language of the Spirit. David's song (psalms) is the breath of God and the Beatitudes are His Essence. Here is your prose turned poem:

Dreams at the Meadow

“A meadow much adorned by daisies wild,

In which a mountain brook now rhyme and flows.

The gentle wind on tree leaves, hears the child,

In sweetest slumber - sleep, the infant glows.”

- Eric, prose turns poem. 12th May, 2019. Shakespearean style quatrain (stanza), with ten syllables each line and the rhyme falling on first and third syllable, second and fourth. (Ab,Ab). Your work, bro. 'Cool, eh?' Happy Mothering Sunday!

P.S. Homework: Turn it into a full Sonnet with 3 Quatrains and two couplets. (14 lines)

John Ward on May 11, 2019:

Keep the Poetry coming, I always enjoy them, though I don't always comment on them. At present, I have little time to myself for anything. Your poetry is one of my highlights. Good work.

Linda Lum from Washington State, USA on May 11, 2019:

Oh Eric, your life is a poem. Some of it is haiku, most in free verse and perhaps a bit in iambic pentameter (LOL). Poetry isn't and can't be constrained. It's not a "thing," it's a feeling and you, my dear, have that feeling. You are exuberant and expressive, at times raucous, and always joyous and loving.

Just keep doing what you're doing. I love it, and I love you my brother (from another dad and mother).

Eric Dierker (author) from Spring Valley, CA. U.S.A. on May 11, 2019:

Cool Centfie. More of a conclusion that leaving us out there. Great. I will cogitate on it. Certainly learn from you. Thanks much

Centfie from Kenya on May 11, 2019:

Nice piece, I enjoyed "Maybe Most Should Not Be Happy Like Me" the most because of the wise words and the theme of humanity.

Now that you asked for frankness..."Pitter Patter" begins beautifully. In my opinion, paraphrasing the last two lines so that "heaven" and "spoken" have that end rhyme would sound more natural than "his" and "is."

Eric Dierker (author) from Spring Valley, CA. U.S.A. on May 11, 2019:

Whahoo Bill seeds get planted today and special flowers trimmed for Mom. Don't look at me to be at my desk much. Off to the pound today. We need a mutt.

Bill Holland from Olympia, WA on May 11, 2019:

I'm running late, and a ton to do this weekend, but it all has to wait until I visit my buddy in S.California. Here's your hug....a pat on the back...a manly sharing of commonalities.....and a declaration of friendship. Now get out of my way. I've got things to do!

Eric Dierker (author) from Spring Valley, CA. U.S.A. on May 11, 2019:

Thanks Chris - My big brother said about the same thing rolling his eyes. But then he paused and said that maybe I should have "used your head and knock some sense in it". Big brothers are a pain.

Eric Dierker (author) from Spring Valley, CA. U.S.A. on May 11, 2019:

Verlie it is good to have you here. My youngest, Gabe said "dad you read it all the time you should write it". I think he has a point. It seemed to come rather easily. Osmosis?

Chris Mills from Traverse City, MI on May 11, 2019:

Eric, it sounds like it was either two sets of knuckles or your face. I'd go with the knuckles, but best to lead with the feet next time. It may be painful, but at least it isn't boring.

Eric Dierker (author) from Spring Valley, CA. U.S.A. on May 10, 2019:

Chris you will get this. I did a rappel swing hard to the right to get a purchase for the next fifteen foot drop. As us morons do I did not brace with my legs and hit two sets of knuckles into rough limestone. I do not do pain meds much but doctor's orders. So I am mad as heck.

I am working on a hate poem. Ice packs really?

We right and write what we learn I reckon.

Verlie Burroughs from Canada on May 10, 2019:

Well look at you Poet! Showing off now, I see...very nice to see a Sonnet right off the top. I can't help you, I'm still learning myself, and I am a slow learner. Love the celebration of the child, and mother, very nice all the way through. Good work!

Eric Dierker (author) from Spring Valley, CA. U.S.A. on May 10, 2019:

Pamela I think for our friends who make money here it is no laughing matter. Even my return post to you on my hub is in the wind. Strange it may be.

Chris Mills from Traverse City, MI on May 10, 2019:

Eric, I love how our poet friends here have given us the desire, maybe the courage, to give it a try. You've done very well. Here is a couple of lines that lit up for me.

Will you slay my ugly beast inside me

Do you care if I am that ugly beast

There is poetry there. It is in the subtle meanings at least as much as it is in rhymes and meters.

Ruby Jean Richert from Southern Illinois on May 10, 2019:

Oh Eric. I think it is a hubpages glitch, somehow the comment is not posted. John said that happens to him quite frequently. Smiling....

Eric Dierker (author) from Spring Valley, CA. U.S.A. on May 10, 2019:

Ruby I am demanding my wife do no snooping around. My closet will be filled by this night. Let us Carpe Diem of love! Love is kind of like smiling, it is contagious.

Ruby Jean Richert from Southern Illinois on May 10, 2019:

I read this earlier and left a comment, this seems to happen too often, anyway I told you that you are a poet. Some famous poets did not rhyme, yet they made a statement that was important. When you write with your heart, it comes through beautifully.

Eric Dierker (author) from Spring Valley, CA. U.S.A. on May 10, 2019:

John john. You made me think of two cups of my famous Butter-gourd/Artichoke tea with you over my shoulder correcting me and laughing. Of course scratching behind our dog's ears and laughing our proverbial butts off. Our ladies coming in and rolling eyes.

Fireworks and poetry are fun fun fun.

Eric Dierker (author) from Spring Valley, CA. U.S.A. on May 10, 2019:

Dana - next year thump thump thump. Yes too fast!

John Hansen from Gondwana Land on May 10, 2019:

Glad to see you have been challenging yourself to become a poet, Eric, and especially succeeding in mastering the sonnet. That is a big deal. I think we all have a poet in us, it just needs releasing. Keep writing your poemetry.

Dana Tate from LOS ANGELES on May 10, 2019:

Cherish each moment of the sound of those pitter-patter feet. Time goes by too fast my friend.

Eric Dierker (author) from Spring Valley, CA. U.S.A. on May 10, 2019:

Elijah we are doing more of the woman thing lately. Still kicking hard soccer balls but being more woman. I know that is totally strange to most. But I rock more strange that most. Do not tell a soul but I am teaching needle and thread this eve. Buttons. A man who cannot mend his own clothes is lacking. Maybe a Boy Scout deal?

Elijah A Alexander Jr from Washington DC on May 10, 2019:

Eric, unless those hairy man suggested lived many eons past are true, there is only one race of man, there are four primary ethnics and a multitude mixed so let us get our word definitions together and I will b believe you. LOLAL

You are most welcome.

Eric Dierker (author) from Spring Valley, CA. U.S.A. on May 10, 2019:

Pamela I am writing too much but I have limited chair rest due to a nasty meeting into a sharp piece of limestone.But it has gone from hard to water balloon. So I am getting free again. I heard that over sixty falling is the most crushing of all things try it with a pack 4 miles into nowhere.

I can still hike so I must still love and learn and share.

Eric Dierker (author) from Spring Valley, CA. U.S.A. on May 10, 2019:

Elijah your last line reminded me that we are one. Each kind of a blood streaming through us, not like different but the same. I have studied race and just went through it with my son. He is a different race half? Same blood of love, no races. And no races to win, just to run.

"Thanks for the inspiration, my brother." This is the "Big Us".

Pamela Oglesby from Sunny Florida on May 10, 2019:

I enjoyed this "happy poemetry" and it sounds like love rules the day. The joy of hearing your boys feet in the morning sets the happy tone for the day.

You seem to live each day to the fullest Eric.

Elijah A Alexander Jr from Washington DC on May 10, 2019:

When I was instructed to write "my book" that I didn't know I was supposed to do, in Minnesota 1980, the only thing I wrote that others could comprehend was a few poems that, by '84 had grown to over 50 including a 500 line and counting rhyming incomplete one I called Facts Of Live that someone wanted to copy and disappeared. In writing them I came up with non-rhyming one, and a multitude of different rhyming like first and last word per line rhyme, an eight line one with first & last, second & seventh, third & sixth and fourth & fifth lines rhyme and a lots of others I did just to see if it could be done you can find 90 of by clicking the house on my profile.

Now I'll have to write one like you, prose style with inner-line rhyme. As soon as I do I'll publish it. Thanks for the inspiration, my brother.

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