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Romantic Poems: Lord Staniforth...San Diego's finest poet?
You decide! For the next five weeks we will be running a series on his upcoming book, Dormancy and Deliverance. Tap into the life and writings of this highly conceited romantic poet who hails from England. This week we begin with his idea of an autobiography.
The Pieces...
Life...what molds us? Scientists might try to sell you genetic makeup, historians may overload you with ice-cold facts and dates, I would give you feeling. As a romantic, I live for the heart. Though the heart changes in feeling, these changes mark the stages of my life.
When I look back, I do not think in terms of days, months or years. In fact, I find that those who do, age faster. People who are slaves to schedules on their weekends, people who are constantly recounting the moments of their younger days through the years between now and then, people who count how many shopping days till Christmas regard life as some time sheet they punch everyday. Why don't they start counting at zero when they're born, and die when they get to so many trillion?
The heart has a youthful nature. When it is broken, we cry like children; when it loves, we have more life than frolicking teenagers do. Either way, it rejuvenates us. I have known people in their sixties who follow their hearts, and can live every day with a passion. Also, the marathon runner...what a noble task he has. Could he complete a race by counting the miles, or does his heart carry him those last painful strides?
So what of my life and those feelings which have measured its course? For the most part, I would rather remain a mystery, an essential part of a romantic poet. However, I will let you in to one of my romantic poems, A Scattered Place. This is a poem about a heaven I could mold from the past "if only I could play God" with the better moments in my life. My poems and my life are often deeply entwined.
Several months ago, a young lady asked me to write a poem about "home." As a romantic, I couldn't refuse such an honor. To many, their home is their life. When I looked back on my life, I realized I never had a set place I could call home. I have lived in so many different places. Therefore, my life is "a scattered place" accounted for by the feelings I've had for landscapes around the world, lady friends, good mates, and heartfelt relatives.
Life is a puzzle, a mystery in itself. In the poem, A Scattered Place, I dream of putting the pieces of my puzzle together. Those pieces are the landscapes and lady friends...etc., and the feelings they have warranted. If one were to switch around the adjectives on each line referring to the pieces, the poem would make more sense. However, would the poem be as enchanting? The pieces in this poem are, in themselves, a mystery (as in life). When the poem concludes, I have dreamt of playing God, and made a place called "Scattered."
John Keats, one of the great romantics, believed that heaven was a place where all those moments in which our feelings were heightened are put together for an eternity. What a glorious concept!
As for the second romantic love poem I have submitted, Juliet,that remains a mystery in time.
Lord Staniforth
San Diego's Finest Romantic Poet?
>Click here to read more romantic poems by Lord Staniforth's.
Next week, Lord Staniforth begins discussion on his upcoming book on poetry, Dormancy and Deliverance. We begin with a world devoid of romance, a world he calls "The Dormant Age."
©1999-2000 Lord Staniforth
Copyright © 2000 Lord Staniforth. All rights reserved.
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Romantic Poems
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