The Last Standza

I finally did it:) My first poetry collection

On the Other Side of Silence: The Making of Elements of Composition

There’s a strange quiet that comes after dying.

I’ve touched that silence twice, "twice pulled from the edge of stillness, and twice returned with something clinging to me. Not fear, not even clarity. But a kind of hunger. A need to gather fragments of thought, memory, rhythm, "whatever still shimmered in the corners of my mind, "and reassemble them into something I could understand. Or at least survive.

That’s how this book began.

Elements of Composition wasn’t born all at once. It formed in pulses. In the hush of recovery. In the flicker of a word remembered too late. In the weight of a pen held like a lifeline. These poems, "some old, some newly unearthed, "aren’t just reflections. They’re witnesses. To time, motion, consciousness, absurdity, love, and the absurdity of love.

They’re how I found myself again after being scattered.

I don’t know if this book is poetry in the traditional sense. Maybe it’s more of a salvage. But for those who find it, "who feel the tug of quiet questions in the back of their minds, "I hope these pieces reflect something back. Something true. Something unfinished. Something alive.

---

The Last Standza

I didn’t know it-"
it was unclear
on all of those scraps of paper,
that I would endear-"
that I’d be lost in the vapor
of a heart attack’s tear.

I had always scrawled-"
’twas my vanguard austere,
from the fractured recall
of an obstinate mind’s jeer.
I didn’t know it then, it was unclear.

But then I died, and all was implied:
from the steps of my stride
to the sounds in my ear,
even the face that resides-"
I didn’t know it then,
it was so queer.

And in this foreign place, I abide-"
stretched canvas, my flesh that barely adhered.
I didn’t know it, a palimpsest without pride,
stitched with a twitch, devoid of revere.
I could scarcely subscribe
to the views in my mirror.

I didn’t know it then-"
but those notes, I did jot
would jolt my heart’s plot-"
as my image came clear
from the visions I wrote
in those previous years,
as I collected the thoughts
of the things I forgot.
In my book, my collective-"
I soon would endear.

  

 

 

© 2025 Robert Trakofler

 No Pondering

Good sir,
the Bureau of Conventional Wisdom
would like very much
if you would please place your skepticism
back into the drawer.

Your conclusions have been painstakingly chosen
by duly appointed needle workers,
and those trappings fit just fine.

But look at these threads-"
some without endings, and others cut short.
This tweed is intangible,
and these socks are all rights!

---

Sir, I’d like you to affix your gaze
pon that sign on the wall:
This is a No Pondering zone.

This will simply not do.
Those past notions are law-"
and selected by you.

I must ask you to withdraw
this critical review.
Such frippery you’ll don…
and bear a taboo!

---

And with a sudden… nod no,
I exclaimed:
I must wrap myself in ponder
to see just what’s true.

For I see now that these grays
were really just blues..."
and that these right socks…
well, some were left too.

I thought, with a grimble.

So this pondering
is what I will do:

Wondering or wandering,
conjuring or conquering,
laundering,"
or even blundering..."
but pondering is what I’ll
do.

 

© 2025 Robert Trakofler

 

"Elements of Composition " Now Available

After years of scribbled notes, reflections, and survival, I'm proud to share that my first poetry collection, Elements of Composition, is now available.

These poems are fragments stitched from memory, motion, time, and the strange resilience of the heart. I hope they offer a reflection, "or a small comfort" to anyone walking a similar path.

 Find Elements of Composition on Amazon here.

Thank you for witnessing.

Author's Note

https://a.co/d/i4sPAck