Archive for November 2013

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Prayer Against Certain Kinds of Hypocrisy

November 14, 2013

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Prayer Against Certain Kinds of Hypocrisy

Our father who art in heaven,
hollowed is thy name,
when kindness will
not come and the earth
is not seen as a heaven;
when the gift of this day’s lost
in the get of daily bread;
when we forgive us our trespasses
with free-passes against those we pass by.

Leaders knot us into temptation,
and deliver us to upheaval,
for the bottom line is the kingdom,
power glorified for more
and for ever more–ah…..
men.

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I thought of this in the context of an Allen Ginsburg prompt at dVerse Poets Pub today, but although it has a Ginsburgian aspect, it does not fit the prompt! Still working a great deal but glad to slip away mentally once in a while.

I realized after posting that the above play on the Lord’s Prayer is somewhat derivative of Lawrence FerLingheti. His, which I’d seen in past lives but not thought much about recently, is in The Last Waltz, the movie about The Band, and may be found here. http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=pE_8WK3tBuE&desktop_uri=%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DpE_8WK3tBuE

Categories: poetry, Uncategorized
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everything becoming something else (late fall)

November 12, 2013

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everything becoming something else (late fall)

all day the crows carry on
over the carrion
the black flags
of their rise/descent
flagging iridescent the gone
and soon to be gone
till bones picked to stone
stick
in the field’s craw
the pick of what crawls
marrow turning to field

tomorrow scrawled by frost
the crows’ raw caws carry on raucous
somewhere else
we stamp our feet
against the fresh shiver delighted
cold

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I’ve been working very hard and had no time to write but here’s something that went bump in the night.

I am someone who ALWAYS uses punctuation and I have no sense of how to use enjambment without it, but this poem seemed to me to have more possibilities without punctuation–on the other hand, it may be difficult to follow. So, for those, like me, who like punctuation, I’ve included another version.

I am posting this for the open link nights of dverse poets pub and With Real Toads.

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Everything Becoming Something Else (late fall)

All day the crows carry on
over the carrion,
the black flags
of their rise/descent
flagging iridescent the gone
and soon to be gone
till bones picked to stone stick
in the field’s craw, the pick
of what crawls,
marrow turning to field.

Tomorrow, scrawled by frost,
the crows’ raw caws carry on raucous
somewhere else;
we stamp our feet
against the fresh shiver, delighted
cold.

*************************************
I’m not actually sure about the punctuation of that “tomorrow” line–.

Ps — I know picture not quite right but have not had much time. Thanks

Categories: poetry, Uncategorized

Comments: 20 Comments

Sketching An Elephant From Your Head (Flash Friday 55)

November 8, 2013

Sketching An Elephant From Your Head

The trick is not the trunk, the climbing
spine, knee lines or overlapping
ear flaps; it all comes down
to the eyebrows.
Even if their slant alone
does not say elephant,
they must be lines that wonder, like you,
why they’ve been drawn here,
above those dotted eyes,
below that blank sky,
and then remember.

*************************

Here’s my nearly belated Friday Flash 55 for the G-Man.  Tell him about it.

I’m afraid I’ve done no noveling this week, just job work.  Agh!  (Yes, I’m so lucky to have a great job, though I’m a bit disappointed.)  Not expecting a break till Thanksgiving possibly, but hopefully then to have a bit of a stretch.  Thanks so much for checking in.

I am using an old and early animation for this, done on an iPad app called Animation Creation. Music, such as it is, by yours truly.

 

Categories: animation, elephants, poetry, Uncategorized
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Hewn

November 2, 2013

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Hewn

The hues of a northern November recall, somehow,
World War I–not just the peace,
but the slog, entrenched in barren,
bombarded by fall.
Only that which is young enough
to bend completely to the ground
and spring up straight again
still glows green–

And how can it be
that the war to end all wars
is now the hundred years’ war
and the young
are still bent to the ground,
and still, no matter how straight they do spring,
are soon to lose
their green
for some dark time.

Trees–they know how to make good
going around in circles–but when humans
become wood, they turn into
a machine’s toys–

We can hardly see them
in the blinding grey–
those leaves, Novembers, that low to the ground
flare against ghost
trunks and sky-carved limbs–
Though the eye barely dares
believe them, the heart
watches its step, anxious not to flatten a one
before the snow.

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I couldn’t resist!  Though I have been noveling!  But all day, off and on, Claudia’s prompt on Autumn colors on dVerse Poets Pub and Kerry O’Connor’s prompt about Marianne Moore’s Real Toads in Imaginary Gardens on With Real Toads were swirling about in my mind, so I finally wrote a draft of the swirl down.  Check out both of these wonderful prompts and the wonderful poems they are inspiring. 

I apologize to Kerry as I did not try for a syllabic format a la Marianne Moore, though I do typically write a syllabic line when doing forms.  (Next time.) 

PS – a special thanks to Hedgewitch for this poem – who got me thinking that it was okay to keep writing down my attempted poems despite my concurrent attempts for discipline. 

PPS – November 11 is Armistice Day (celebrated as Veteran’s Day in the U.S.), the armistice of WWI, which began 100 years ago next year. 

ppps–this has been edited since first posting–

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Taking a Break From Blogging Break (With Pearl!)

November 2, 2013

I am now taking a blogging break to try to revise and finish an old novel manuscript.

But right this minute I am taking a break from my blogging break because I will do anything rather than revise and finish this old novel manuscript.

Ha.

I very much want it to be done.

I don’t even mostly mind the work of doing it.  Not when I am in the midst of such work.

I just have a hard time beginning and sticking to the work:

  1. because I have no faith that I can/will complete the task, meaning spending any time at all on it is a waste.
  2. because I have no faith that even if I do complete the task, it will be very good, or even if good, will be read, or liked.  (Meaning spending any time at all on it is a waste.)
  3. because I hate making decisions and revising is a non-stop decision-making process.  (As in–yes, cut this.  And this.  And this.  And, should you re-write this?  I mean, seriously.  Are you actually improving anything here? Oh yes, and maybe you better put that back.  I mean, it’s a plot point, right?)  (Meaning that it’s not all that fun, meaning spending any time on  it is a waste.)

Here’s where discipline comes in.

Meaning …that if I want to do this, I have to just make myself do it, even when I don’t want to.

Meaning…. better get back to it.

Meaning… Pearl, did you leave any for me?    (To have with wine/whine.)

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Note that for the sake of my sanity and to escape the solitude of a big project I will probably be posting little whining notes like this every once in a while this month.  Feel free to comment–encouragement is always welcome, but disparagement will probably feel more familiar (i.e. like talking to myself.)  I will try to return visits, but may be slow.  

Also, I am doing this during nanowrimo month to get some energy from collective prosing despair – but my project is really one of cutting not writing.  This particular manuscript is already written and much too long. 

Categories: dog, Uncategorized, writing
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