Poetry Of RH Fay

Thanks!

In honour of National Poetry Month, I am again posting one of my previously published poems. And this one happens to be a bit of an experiment. In this particular instance, I tried something different from my usual verse. The end result seemed, well, rather odd.

Believing it wasn't one of my best, I submitted it with rather low expectations. Imagine my shock when it was accepted first time out!

Instances like this make me question my judgment regarding the apparent quality and "publishability" of my own work. I never seem to be able to predict with any degree of accuracy what works will be accepted right away, and what ones will struggle to find homes. Certain poems I think are only "so-so" may find homes quickly, while others I view as especially worthy may remain homeless for quite some time.

Weird.

Anyway, here goes, my poem about a vampiric spirit in an old skull, originally published in the April 2008 Issue of Night to Dawn:

Spirit of the Skull

By Richard H. Fay

The skull of my ancestor
Calls to me,
Drawing me toward the crypt
Eerily.
The great iron doors open
Noisily.
I make my way to the vaults
Stealthily.

I stare at the yellowed skull
Before me
As it sits in its dim niche
Eagerly.
Its awful fleshless face grins
Evilly.
Fey orbs flare in its sockets
Savagely.

I feel a presence standing
Next to me.
A fell spirit rises up
Terribly.
Laughter echoes in the tomb
Horribly
As the dark shade drinks my blood
Greedily.

2008 Richard H. Fay

Here is another of my previous published poems I decided to post in honour of National Poetry Month. I figured I had better get another poem or two in before the month's out.

This time I decided to go with my vampiric cinquain that originally appeared in the October 2008 issue of Macabre Cadaver. I've actually written a few pieces of "vampire poetry", but I think this is one of my best. I especially like my little bit of "grave" word play.

Consequence of Taking Too Much

by Richard H. Fay

Red rose
placed on fresh earth
becomes a grave symbol
of true love lost and my hunger
for blood.

2008 Richard H. Fay

Ifs and Whys

by Richard H. Fay


Answer me this...

If you view me as ignorant,
Why watch where my mind goes?

If I be just a hopeless fool,
Why follow my fool's rants?

If you question my intellect,
Why cross wits with a dunce?

If I be such a simpleton,
Why bother with my thoughts?

If you think me a stupid dolt,
Why care what I might say?

If my opinion matters not,
Why regard it one bit?

If you feel I speak mere nonsense,
Why listen to these words?

If my life be a total loss,
Why tarry in the wreck?

If you consider me worthless,
Why waste your precious time?

If I be a nonentity,
Why pay me any heed
At all?

2009 Richard H. Fay

Wow I love how eclectic these poems are. You have such a contrast in styles there. I love the self-exploration of the last one. It is like a real stab at anyone who criticises you. Very nice weapon of defense there Richard. The other two are also expressing different moods on the same subject. One is quite dark and the other almost romantic in it's melancholy way. Thanks for the feast for the senses!

Wow! Good job as always Richard. Such imagery!

Thanks X 2.

Although, I must admit, a follower of one of my most vocal critics called "Ifs and Whys" pretentious. Others claimed it wasn't much of a poem. And apparently, you can't use words like "tarry" anymore.

(Maybe they're just jealous of my command of the English language!)

I think using words like that flavour your writing. I am not one for all these rules and restrictions. Writing that comes from the heart appeals to me more than something that has been edited to within an inch of its life just to please an editor...

Agreed, but then I may be a bit of a maverick, going my own way.

Writing is a creative process and should not be fenced in by rules and regulations.

Night Star wrote:

Writing is a creative process and should not be fenced in by rules and regulations.

Imagine that? Art as an exercise in freedom of expression? Isn't that what they all tout? At least, they tout that until you go in a direction different from the horde.

If I wrote poetry the same as everyone else, my poetry would sound the same as everyone else's poetry. And I don't want to do that. I want to be true to my own voice, not the voice others try to put in my mouth.

Absolutely! What is the point of art if it is not your unique expression of your energy?

vaporous sprites
reel across steaming pot
porridge burned

This may be a speculative haiku, or it may not. Fairy lore can be like that at times; it may truly be something supernatural, or it may just use supernatural explanations for mundane happenings. Even though I was inspired to write this piece by an example of fairy art by Joyce Plumstead depicting ruined porridge (although I think it was a human boy who ruins the porridge in the story being illustrated), I could just as easily have been inspired by a real kitchen disaster. Were there really mischievous sprites messing around with the porridge, or was the porridge simply left on too long, or cooked in too hot a flame? Hm...

Hahaha! Cool.

Thanks!

Who (or What) is it at the Door?

by Richard H. Fay

Key slides into keyhole
Turning tumblers,
But door never opens.

Doorknob rattles
Rotated by hand
Not really there.

Hinges creak
And wood moans
As no one enters.

Widened eyes
Peer through cracks,
Seeing nothing.

Door stays shut,
Barring entrance
To unseen things.

Knock upon wood
Quickens heartbeat
And steals breath

Because no mortal being
Stands at the threshold
Waiting to come in.

Copyright 2009 Richard H. Fay

(Based on actual family experiences with the paranormal.)

I was just going to say is this based on those experiences that you posted about...lol. Well captured! I like the airy distance created by the meter in this one. Kind of like waiting to hear who it is but there is no response. Excellent!

Thanks!

This poem almost wrote itself. Once I had a pattern going, it was simply a matter of finding just the right phrases for the pattern.

Rarely do I use enjambment between stanzas, but I did this time between the second-to-last and the last. It felt right somehow, and it does seem to create that pause as if waiting for a response. And since the whole poem consists of stanzas of three lines, it almost echos a knock-knock-knock, knock-knock-knock, knock-knock-knock rhythm.

My dark speculative cinquain "Eldritch Mistress" has been published in the September 2009 issue of the web-zine Aphelion. Check it out:
http://www.aphelion-webzine.com/poetry/2009/09/EldritchMistress.html

Yes, in a departure from my regular Aphelion scifaiku and horrorku publications, I have something slightly larger this time around. I like the form of the cinquan, although I don't profess to be any sort of expert at cinquain composition. Still, I find that I can typically say just a little bit more in a cinquain than I usually can in a haiku. In some ways, the cinquain form actually fits my style better than the haiku form. Maybe it's just symptomatic of my own limitations, but I often find haiku to be too restrictive. Cinquains let me explore the language of scenes, thoughts, and feelings just a little bit more.

As for this particular cinquain, I found inspiration in tales of fatally beautiful fairy loves, especially the Breton Korrigan temptress. She would sit beneath the dark forest canopy beside a ruined well, combing and braiding her golden hair. Through glamour she would transform mossy thicket into richly carpeted palace, only to have the spell broken by dawn's first light. I also added elements from the Manx Lhiannan-shee, the fairy muse that slowly drained life energies from poets and musicians.

And why eldritch, other than the fact that this happens to be one of my favourite words? Well, I'm trying to get extra power out of the title, treating it as part of the poem rather than just a tag. I feel that the possible root of eldritch, perhaps coming from the Middle English elfriche, meaning "fairyland", adds that fairy element missing in the poem itself (although hinted at in the use of the word fey). In my mind, fay equates to fairy; fey equates to doomed, visionary, or otherworldly, but not necessarily of fairyland. After all, fay is the old term for a denizen of fairyland; fairy (Fay-erie) was first used merely for a state of enchantment. And I'm none too fond of the modern preference for fae, a spelling that seems to simply be a shortening of the alternate spelling of fairy - faerie.

Awesome! Loved these!!

Thanks!

Although, I was so ill when I posted the link to my cinquian that I posted it in the wrong thread.