Time Capsule Poetry

By Dennis Lantz

Time capsules fascinate me. Somehow, the concept of opening a sealed vault to find objects that were purposefully hidden away just for you to discover is the essence of Christmas, archaeology and time travel combined into one blissful event. Letters, photographs and trinkets from that earlier time not only can reveal a different period, but also the spirit of those who placed the items there.

Not all time capsules are intentional. In my early twenties, after a couple of rather poor short stories were rejected by various magazines, I changed my focus to poetry. Oddly, but quite tellingly, I didn’t read poetry. Today I can appreciate good verse, but even now I struggle to distinguish the quality of this genre. I didn’t consider myself to be a poet; more of a wordsmith using certain meter in an attempt to capture a particular meaning. I readily admit that a few of the poems were not good, but I put a lot of time into them. A few still make me smile and that is all that matters. 

It is crazy to think that most of the poems were written between twenty-five and thirty years ago. When I lived on Ghent Hill I kept most of my writing notebooks in unorganized plastic totes, interspersed with hundreds of books, mementoes and papers of importance only to me. When I moved to Warren Center I brought everything with me. For the most part, the totes stayed unopened, just like a time capsule. 

Over the years I lost track of these poems. I thought hard copies existed but I didn’t know where they were. Some of the totes were not impervious to the small furry creatures that have no regard for the written word, let alone poetry. I’ve tossed many a memory away because of them, but that is a subject for another day. When I moved from the trailer into the house, I brought the totes with me. I eventually went through them and read from my old notebooks. I had a grand time, but the poems were not there. 

When I began writing the original draft of My Handprint, I reminisced about the poems. My last resort was to try to recover them from a long unused computer still in the old trailer. This had been subjected to periods of extreme cold and hot and hadn’t been turned on in eight years or so. I wasn’t even positive they were on there because, while I thought I had sent them via email to Christy, I couldn’t be certain that I had saved them. Knowing myself, I likely did. 

Anyway, the following paragraph is from a journal I wrote in June 2016:

I FOUND THEM!!!! I went down to the trailer to get the computer and was searching through the closet in the small blue room and discovered storage totes inside that still contained a bunch of my old notebooks. I thought I had brought everything to the house, but was amazed to see that there were two entire totes of older writings. As I was looking through these I came across a manila envelope that contained hard copies of many of my poems! 

That was an exciting day. Hence the multiple exclamation marks. So, that is enough background. Now it is time to present a few of my poems that have not seen the light for years. Other than Christy and possibly one or two other people (and I can’t recall anyone for certain), they were not shared until now. 

I hope you enjoy them.  Of the dozen or so from that time period, I have selected four.

The Spirit    2/6/93

Listen close, you’ll hear the ghost

Of the ancient One whose tempered hands

Did feed the flame to start the game

Of ancestry along the coast

Of some resplendent ocean realm.

Since Adam lived we’ve roamed the earth

Among the dead in search for life,

A pact was sealed for man to yield

The knowledge Time replaced with mirth

And petty codes of civil’ty.

Just cup your ear and catch the sound

Of steady chants and windy choirs,

A single note the master wrote

In purest form it can be found

Will often soothe the wildest beast.

The sheathes of grain show no remorse

For blood that’s seeped and stained the past,

The gilded beam retains its gleam

Reflected in the water’s course

To shout the touch of deity.

But none compare, you snatch their hail

While calm descends behind closed eyes,

But woe the bane, December rain

Has come to rend the virgin veil,

It wakes you and the moment’s gone.

Not only does the winter’s rain

Intrude upon the sweet repose,

It rails the voice of human choice

That Cain was cast and Abel slain

And Eden lost to all mankind.

Wishing on a Star    8/7/89

If chance be kind and fate be fair,

Into your life a shooting star

Will fall for you to wish upon.

The flashing arc in jet black sky

Holds secrets only ancients knew

To lift the soul that’s feeling blue

And bring pleasures unforetold.

But heed these words and heed them well,

To wish on naught but pers’nal gain

Brings naught but tears and endless pain,

So wish instead for all mankind

And gain with all what all does need –

Like peace and love and harmony,

For these are every good man’s dreams,

And dreams like these – if wished by you

Have more the chance of coming true.

Dreams

In dreams

We shed

Our mortal thread –

Our passions

Like a thousand stars,

Illuminate the way

Vampires  (finished 11/22/92)

We prey on innocents, you know,

As barb’rous beasts we sink our teeth

Into the earth, our hands to sow

The seeds of long imposed desires.

But how can justice stop the dead

Who blinded fly with wanton thrill

Upon the air, our cravings fed

By roots of learned avarice?

We thrive on ignorance, you see,

Our features change when darkness reigns

Upon our soul, the lust profanes

The innate voice of kindled dreams.

O siblings and mirror twin

Our gilded tales have failed to hide

The painted, tainted peace within,

Which drifts along in slow decay.

Come join the feast, your hungers show,

We prey on Innocents, you know.

The unintentional time capsule from which these came, held others. I am sure I will share more soon.

Until then,

Read, Learn, Live.