Writing poetry has been a something of a hobby of mine since my teenage years, but perhaps due to my perfectionism I have not been that pr0lific. In my earlier years, I generally wrote in free verse, but as I became older I became intrigued by the traditional style of English poetry (meter, rhyme, etc.), and attempted to write poems in that style. My earliest attempts were (from my own perspective, at least) rather so-so, and even now I would not dare to claim to be a true master of the style, but I believe I have made some improvement in the last few years. What I have found most challenging has been finding a balance between "sound" and "sense," and adhering to the rather demanding requirements of traditional forms. Nevertheless, meeting (or almost meeting!) those challenges have given me a deep sense of satisfaction.
The following poem is written in the form known as the Petrarchan or Italian sonnet. For many years I aspired to write sonnets, perhaps because the form is relatively demanding but also relatively short. I started out by writing Shakespearean sonnets (also known as "English sonnets") because the rhyme scheme (the pattern of rhymes) poses less of a challenge than a Petrarchan sonnet. However, in the past few years I've tried my hand at writing Petrarchan sonnets, perhaps because I began to feel Shakespearean sonnets weren't sufficiently challenging! This sonnet is an excellent example of my tendency toward perfectionism; it took me three years of off-and-on revisions to get it into a shape that I feel relatively comfortable with (though I'm still not sure it couldn't use some further improvement!). The sonnet was at least partially inspired by Milton's "Ode on the Morning of Christ's Nativity," but some of the language reflects my reading of the Bible. I struggled somewhat over the use of archaic forms (e.g., "thy," "thou"), but in the end I felt the use of these forms was appropriate for this particular poem, Besides, I have no pretensions of being a great modern poet; I have come to view my writing of poetry of being more like craft than high art. In fact, in a sense, I think of myself as being like some Chinese landscape painters I learned about while taking a class in Chinese art a few years ago, These artists would paint paintings in the style of earlier painters as a form of homage and to demonstrate their own craftsmanship. They were not that concerned (as many Western artists are) with absolute originality. I view my writing of poetry is being somewhat similar in nature to their painting. I hope you enjoy the sonnet. Consider it my Christmas gift to you my readers:
Sonnet on the Nativity
ALL HAIL the Virgin's Son, who once did reign
In matchless splendor at the Father’s side,
The great Creator of the wind and tide--
Exalted in the morning stars’ refrain!
Behold Him, who for us did not disdain
His glory in a mortal frame to hide,
And now doth with the lowing ox abide,
His natal bed a manger, rough and plain.
O Lord, what wondrous love did Thee impel
To come to us in sweet humility,
That we who did in Death's dark shadow dwell,
The light of Heaven's rising Sun might see!
Oh, teach us, then, our selfish thoughts to quell
That we, O Holy One, might love like Thee!
Image: "Adoration of the Shepherds" by Domenico Ghirlandaio, from wga.hu