These two poems by Sydney Lea demonstrate remarkable skill in weaving together the mundane and the profound, creating layered meditations on mortality, beauty, and memory.
"Gooka-mol" exhibits several striking virtues:
The poem's associative logic feels natural and earned - moving from vultures to a dog's medical condition to memories of a grandmother's dialect. This mimics how the anxious mind actually works, jumping between connections in ways that seem random but reveal deeper patterns.
Lea's etymological exploration of "revolting" and "vulture" (both connected to turning) adds intellectual depth while remaining emotionally grounded. The wordplay isn't merely clever - it reflects the speaker's desperate attempt to turn away from worry through language itself.
The Pennsylvania Dutch phrase "Gooka-mol" (Let me see) becomes a powerful refrain that transforms throughout the poem. It begins as simple remembrance but evolves into a prayer-like utterance about perception, acceptance, and the limits of what we can know or control.
The ending is particularly masterful - acknowledging both the relative insignificance of a pet's illness ("It's only a pet, after all") while honoring the genuine emotional weight of loving any mortal creature.
"Fire and Jewel" showcases different but equally impressive strengths:
The poem demonstrates Lea's gift for precise, visceral imagery - those trees "lifting off their stumps like so many rockets" captures both the violence and strange beauty of destruction. The progression from orange to white heat shows careful attention to physical detail.
The ethical complexity here is notable - the speaker admits finding the fire "gorgeous" while fully acknowledging the human cost (Earl Bailey's losses, Donald Chambers' collapse). This honest admission of aesthetic pleasure in destruction feels psychologically true and morally complicated.
The temporal structure is sophisticated, moving between the original event, a dream 50 years later, and the present action of buying jewelry. This compression of time mirrors how memory works - certain moments remain vivid across decades.
The final image of underground fire that keeps burning becomes a perfect metaphor for how formative experiences continue to shape us. The connection between destructive fire and the "fire in my being" when buying the necklace suggests how beauty and loss, creation and destruction, remain intertwined.
Both poems share Lea's gift for grounded transcendence - finding the spiritual within the everyday without pretension. His line breaks and stanza structures feel organic rather than forced, and he trusts readers to make connections without over-explaining. These are mature poems that honor both intellectual complexity and emotional truth.
Wow, John: That is about as encouraging a set of remarks as I've ever had. Each is also smarter, it seems to me, than virtually those of virtually any reviewer who ever noticed my work! Thank you!
Your first reminds me of my visit to a conservation facility in South Africa for vultures and other endangered wildlife. To see these animals up close is to be in awe of their size. Not only are they not good-looking, they also make a terrible mess of their environment. They are of this world, nonetheless.
These two poems by Sydney Lea demonstrate remarkable skill in weaving together the mundane and the profound, creating layered meditations on mortality, beauty, and memory.
"Gooka-mol" exhibits several striking virtues:
The poem's associative logic feels natural and earned - moving from vultures to a dog's medical condition to memories of a grandmother's dialect. This mimics how the anxious mind actually works, jumping between connections in ways that seem random but reveal deeper patterns.
Lea's etymological exploration of "revolting" and "vulture" (both connected to turning) adds intellectual depth while remaining emotionally grounded. The wordplay isn't merely clever - it reflects the speaker's desperate attempt to turn away from worry through language itself.
The Pennsylvania Dutch phrase "Gooka-mol" (Let me see) becomes a powerful refrain that transforms throughout the poem. It begins as simple remembrance but evolves into a prayer-like utterance about perception, acceptance, and the limits of what we can know or control.
The ending is particularly masterful - acknowledging both the relative insignificance of a pet's illness ("It's only a pet, after all") while honoring the genuine emotional weight of loving any mortal creature.
"Fire and Jewel" showcases different but equally impressive strengths:
The poem demonstrates Lea's gift for precise, visceral imagery - those trees "lifting off their stumps like so many rockets" captures both the violence and strange beauty of destruction. The progression from orange to white heat shows careful attention to physical detail.
The ethical complexity here is notable - the speaker admits finding the fire "gorgeous" while fully acknowledging the human cost (Earl Bailey's losses, Donald Chambers' collapse). This honest admission of aesthetic pleasure in destruction feels psychologically true and morally complicated.
The temporal structure is sophisticated, moving between the original event, a dream 50 years later, and the present action of buying jewelry. This compression of time mirrors how memory works - certain moments remain vivid across decades.
The final image of underground fire that keeps burning becomes a perfect metaphor for how formative experiences continue to shape us. The connection between destructive fire and the "fire in my being" when buying the necklace suggests how beauty and loss, creation and destruction, remain intertwined.
Both poems share Lea's gift for grounded transcendence - finding the spiritual within the everyday without pretension. His line breaks and stanza structures feel organic rather than forced, and he trusts readers to make connections without over-explaining. These are mature poems that honor both intellectual complexity and emotional truth.
Wow, John: That is about as encouraging a set of remarks as I've ever had. Each is also smarter, it seems to me, than virtually those of virtually any reviewer who ever noticed my work! Thank you!
What wonderful poems, both quite moving.
Your first reminds me of my visit to a conservation facility in South Africa for vultures and other endangered wildlife. To see these animals up close is to be in awe of their size. Not only are they not good-looking, they also make a terrible mess of their environment. They are of this world, nonetheless.
Dear Maureen: Your steady support and commentary are most reassuring Thank you!