Tag Archives: Autumn Sky Poetry Daily

Sonnet: Keith Roberts, ‘Lather’

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Inside the shower’s stream the morning blurs,
ceremony wakes on white marble tile;
brushed steel and shaving brush wait, rituals
that ask the rushing mind to pause a while.

The bowl presents the soap, the steam the heat;
damp badger bristles swirl, patient and slow.
No canned foam, no gelled and fleeting cheat,
hands repeating what older barbers know.

The lather builds like weather in the hand,
a cloud coaxed up from water, soap, and time;
slow turns that ask a man to pause and stand
at break of day before its clamors chime.

Hands learned the quiet patience of the bowl,
small weather turning slowly in the soul.

*****

Keith Roberts writes: “I’d be remiss if I didn’t give my wife credit for this poem. For my birthday she gave me a bowl, a brush, and a puck of all-natural shave soap from a local artisan. A little whisk into lather, the woody-whiskey scent comes up, and suddenly I swear I can hear modal jazz somewhere in the background. In a world built around consumption, algorithms, and binary takes, it’s important to our humanity to rediscover the transcendent in small, ordinary experiences like this. And maybe more importantly, to listen when other people share theirs. This poem is a thank you to my wife for helping me find one.

“I’m just starting this writing and poetry journey.  I’m a recovering math major with graduate degrees in Computer Science and Computational Social Science. Most of my career was spent living in the abstract: programming, modeling, data, systems. When my dad passed away a couple of years ago, something in me shifted. I started writing partly as a way to process the loss and partly to leave my kids something more durable than an Instagram feed. Also, and this is important, it gives me great comfort knowing that dad jokes can, in fact, achieve a kind of immortality…even in sonnet form. If that garners a few more eye rolls from my kids after I’m gone, I’ll consider my work a success.”

‘Lather’ was first published in Autumn Sky Poetry Daily

Photo: “Lather” by RLHyde is licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0.

Using form: Pantoum: Susan Delaney Spear, ‘Matryoshka’

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Mother, I am your only child.
I breathe inside your painted walls,
I am your only child. A daughter.
I nest inside your wooden halls.

I breathe inside your painted walls,
I have never touched your face.
I nest inside your wooden halls,
We share an inside out embrace.

I have never touched your face.
In retrospect, I understand,
We share an inside out embrace.
I have never clutched your hand.

In retrospect, I understand.
I have never seen your eyes,
I have never clutched your hand.
We are stacked, a quaint disguise.

I have never seen your eyes.
I am your only child. A daughter.
We are stacked, a quaint disguise.
Mother, I am your only child.

*****

Susan Delaney Spear writes: “Several years ago, I realized that the Russian nesting doll could be a metaphor for the complex relationship I had with my mother. Still, I was unable to put it into verse. But then, when my poetry group was writing pantoums (the poetic version of nesting), I wrote “Matryoshka.” Sometimes the Muse waves her magic wand and offers a form which perfectly aligns with the content.”

‘Matryoshka’ was originally published in Autumn Sky Poetry Daily.

Susan Delaney Spear is a retired professor and poet. Her two collections of poetry are Beyond All Bearing and On Earth….(Resource Publications, 2018 and 2022). She is the co-author, with David J. Rothman, of Learning the Secrets of English Verse (Springer, 2022). She and her husband live in Tampa, Florida, where she writes and serves as the interim music director and organist at the First Presbyterian Church of Dunedin. You can find her at www.susandelaneyspear.com.

Photo: “Cautious Matryoshka” by backpackphotography is licensed under CC BY-ND 2.0.