The LeSabre

Author Cob Franzmeier

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Jacob Franzmeier, or as his friends call him, Cob, is an author and poet here at Sartell who is very eager to share his work with the world.

I asked Cob a few questions about himself and his work and here’s what he said.

1. What inspires you to write your poetry?

Honestly, the inspiration for my poems comes from just about everything. I’ll write about whatever I’m thinking at the time: fish, girls, wizards, death. One of my poems was even inspired by a 9th grade science problem. So yeah, my inspiration is pretty random, but I still manage to make a decent poem, usually.”

540

Once upon an afternoon

I stirred the dough with silver spoon

Hoping for a bursting taste

Never one that I would waste

Forty-five dozen on a plate

Turn on the oven, now we wait

I knew that this would be my fate

Making five-hundred and forty cookies.

Inspired by 9th Grade Science

 

2. How long have you been writing poetry or other works and how did you get into it?

“My love for poetry began back in the 4th grade, when I got a school poem published in the local newsletter titled “Timberwolf Grey.” But my real passion for the art blossomed in my 6th grade Language Arts class with Mrs. Lindsay Vernier. She pushed me to write harder and better than ever before, and I grew as an artist as well as a person. I guess you could say she was a mentor to me.”

Leaf

A little brown leaf floats on the surface of the river.

A swirling eddy rocks the little leaf’s voyage, spilling water over its edge.

A bump in the stream tosses the leaf into a violent spiral.

A leaf, fragile, barely holding together with its last threads of life

It still survives.

How much has the little leaf seen?

It has seen the shady clouds of thunder.

It has seen the spearing crags beneath the falls.

It has seen the ever-approaching waters below, a merciless end to an unfortunate tale.

It has seen hell, and it has seen death.

But it has also seen the streaking rays of sunlight piercing the thunderous clouds.

It has seen the glistening dewdrops lazily sunbathing on the spearing crags.

It has seen the glorious world above the river, a beautiful beginning to a blessed story.

It has seen heaven, and it has seen life.

A little brown leaf sinks below the surface of the river.

A passing fish nibbles the little leaf’s edges, leaving only skeletal veins.

A splash in the stream pushes the leaf into the loamy riverbed.

A leaf, broken, void of the threads that held it together

It’s gone.

What will the little leaf see now?

Inspired by the National Library of Poetry

 

3. Do you have a favorite piece that you’ve done? if so, why is it your favorite?

It’s hard to choose a favorite poem, but if I had to, I’d probably choose one from about four years ago called Tapestry. It was one of the few poems I wrote for a school assignment, but I really poured my heart and soul into it. It was the only poem that made my parents cry when they read it, and I guess that made me realize how powerful words could be.

Tapestry

To weave a soul,

you need a loom

a strong, wooden life

as a skeleton for

your weaving.

Make the loom sturdy

and nail it all together

to make a tapestry

to weave a soul.

 

To weave a soul,

you need a thread

a colorful string of

humor, of laughter for

your weaving.

Sew the thread straight

and tie it off

to make a tapestry

to weave a soul.

 

To weave a soul,

you need a fabric

a clean, perfect love

crisscrossed with happiness for

your weaving.

Place the fabric softly

and pull it inside

to make a tapestry

to weave a soul.

 

To weave a soul,

you need a pattern

a life-changing

laugh-inducing

love-making

compound.

But fear not

for to make a pattern

you need only to keep

a personality

to make a tapestry

to weave a soul.

To weave a soul,

you take the loom

and the thread

and the fabric

and spin it all together

in unison.

Add in your pattern

give your time

and pour in your

emotions.

And through that work,

you find yourself

and discover that

you

have made a tapestry

have woven a soul.

 

Jacob also told me another one of his favorites was a poem he wrote called Atlas.

 

Atlas

I walked to a field

And saw a man hold the sky.

I said, “Why, oh why,

Do you hold up the sky?”

He replied with a grunt,

“Come close and listen:

The god Zeus has risen

And placed me in prison.”

He looked so unruly

His clothes full of rips

His hair grey at the tips

His hands in tight grips.

I said to the giant,

“Oh, that’s too bad.

I find you so sad

You poor giant lad.”

He said, “Would you help me?

I need only a coat

With fur from a goat,

Which I find good to note.”

I glanced at my road

And I said, “Great sir,

Although I see sure

You are stout as a fir,

I have no coat

With goatskin fur

Although I concur

That it would be pure.”

So with my last word,

I made about-face

And quickened my pace

Leaving no trace.

I never forget

Be it said that I try

The great sounding cry

Of the man who held the sky.

 

If you like any of these works by Jacob and want to see more click here to download a document with some more of his poems.

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