Here you will find photos, poetry, and possibly somelight-heartedfoolishness. For the Heavier Side of JzB see my other blog, Retirement Blues. (There be dragons!)
I claim copyright and reserve all rights for my original material of every type and genre.
Every day visits* From Moose, Goose, and Orb Weaver All seized by Haiku
"Why moose and goose?" you may ask. Back on 2/04/13 Pirate wrote a haiku with an elk in it, and I responded with one with a moose and then included him every day. A few days later in comments Mystic asked "Where's the goose?" So I started including her with this post on 2/07. A week later on the 14th, Mark Readfern asked for and received a spider. The rest is history.
*Well, most days, anyway. Grant me a bit of poetic license.
Of the fourJerry Kilbride examples, the potato one seems abstract and mysterious. In the other three there is a deeply touching moment with a unique person - so something very concrete. This appeals to me.
This has been a difficult summer. Early in June my mother had a stroke. She was fairly stable for a few days, then went rapidly down hill. She spent her last few days at Hospice of Northwest Ohio, a beautiful location, where she received quality care. Sadly, she was not aware in any obvious way of us or her surroundings.
That period was physically and mentally exhausting. I really haven't fully recovered. So I'm in the right frame of mind to be inspired by Jerry Kilbride.
OK, then - a poem of love, that strange, mysterious primal life influence. And one that is, to a fair degree, the story of my life. Now you know.
I wrote this several years ago, - obviously a pastiche with a boat load of pirated iconic source material, stitched together with my own unique blend of herbs and spices, - and just reconstituted it from memory. Some things just stay with you.
TIME AND ALL THE WORLD When do I love thee - let me count the days: One day in love’s first incomplete caress When we were young and in young carelessness Lost love we thought, we didn’t know the ways
Love comes, and goes, then comes again and stays. Away you went, and I, or we, to press Another plight, a troth, and then loveless, Distressed returned to love at last in May’s
Warm glow surprised we loved on that day too: Love ever fixed, not shaken, now we chose To measure our souls’ reach and passion through True minds quiet needs and old griefs lose.
The best is yet to be, our one from two Now we have time and all the world to use.
She is a Cuban poet who wrote on philosophical and social topics, but also of love and passion. You can read about her and see some examples of her work at the link above.
'Our challenge is to write a new poem or prose poem in response to Carilda's words."
My response is to the last one presented at the link. No politics or war in this one; only the . . .
~~::~~
FORBIDDEN FRUIT
when the tip of my tongue moistens
the tip of your sweet breast
i think of naked coquette eve
and how she enticed the serpent
it was the fruit she pleaded
its syrup cloying sticky on her chin
and adam could no more resist than gravity’s apple
plummeting headlong into boggy mother earth
that is how i fell into you crazy love-crazy
turbid salacious over-ripe and bursting with seeds
UPDATE 2/11/15 for The Imaginary Garden Tuesday Platform [a day late]
Since it's all about the stage and the applause, I'll take this opportunity to blow my own horn - literally.
~~::~~
Carpe Diem theme originally from Nov 7, 2012.
My grandson Nate is a smart, healthy boy. He'll be 12 1/2 on Valentine's day.
But he got off to a rough start. He was born with transposition of the great arteries - his pulmonary artery and aorta were hooked up in reverse. So instead of a complete circulatory system, he had two closed loops. Fortunately, this condition was observed in an ultrasound. So he was born at Mott's Children's Hospital at the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor, where fixing these things is a matter of routine.
When he was born, he turned blue immediately. But the neo-natal cardiac team was on high alert and quickly performed a radical procedure that stabilized him until the open-heart surgery could be performed a week later.
It was a success, and everything turned out well. Which is pretty remarkable since they opened him up like a clam, and the great arteries in a newborn have about the same diameter as a pencil lead.
So I wrote this song for him. A blues of course. A minor blues for a little guy. The barely audible bass riff at the beginning and end is supposed to represent a heart beat. There is other symbolism in the song's construction, some of which was unconscious. Trombone solo by me.
Heteromost presents a scenario where we are put in a position to ask an allegedly unlikely wise savant, "What is the universal truth."
Our task is to fabricate his answer.
Certainly, this can not be given in any straightforward manner. It must be as enigmatic as an ancient prophecy whose meaning can only be teased out with deep and inspired thought.
Such a task is beyond me, of course. But why let a detail like that get in the way?
Analyze
the haiku, try to tell the story behind the haiku ... let the given
haiku come to life ... see it in front of your eyes ... feel it with all
your senses ... be part of the haiku ... maybe it helps to read the
haiku aloud more than twice ... try to come in touch with the haiku.
Share your thoughts, your analysis with us all ... and try to
write/compose a new haiku with the story you analyzed from the haiku.
I could make this very personal.
Instead, though, I'll talk about a scene from the movie Crazy, Stupid, Love. [You can see my review of it here] Emily Watson [Julianne Moore] is driving slowly down a residential street with her husband Cal [Steve Carell] in the passenger seat, when she confesses to him that she is having an affair with David Lindhagen [Kevin Bacon], and now wants a divorce. Cal's response is to open the car door and spill out into the street.
The rest of the convoluted plot weaves a web of relationships and proto-relationships involving Cal and Emily's family members. One of the major sub-plots is Cal's attempt to find relief through an extended series of brief and meaningless affairs.
Through it all, though, he never gets over his love for Emily - at least not within the scope of the movie's time line. Her feelings are not so clear. So - though love isn't necessarily forever - it could be. Then again, maybe not.
Kristjaan tells us: Basho once said "now you know the rules forget them immediately and write
from your heart". That's what we are going to do in this new feature
... writing straight from the heart ... without the classical rules ...
just one theme "romance".
[...] "We are all
beggars at the gate of the temple, and each one of us receives his share of the
bounty of the King when he enters the temple, and when he goes out. But we are
all jealous of one another, which is another way of belittling the King". [...]
The warp and woof of my life has been a product of random events - some of them highly improbable.
Here's one example. Many years ago, things took a very bad turn at my job. A new management team had come in and for some reason they needed a scapegoat. My head was on the chopping block. I was in despair. After many years of working in the glass industry, I had developed a narrow skill set, centered around automotive glass applications. Where could I find another job?
That very Sunday in the paper was a job add from one of the major car companies, and the qualifications read like my resume. I couldn't believe what I was reading. Well - after some further adventure - I got the job and went on to a career that was far more successful and rewarding than I would have ever had at the glass company. No planning - it was just exactly the right thing at exactly the right time.
a snag in the plan when tapestry unravels find a new thread
I see now that with my preamble I have written another haibun.
That wasn't planned either.
And I'm struck that a random accident lead to this prompt.
Today, a haiku/senryu distilled from a poem I wrote several years ago, and posted on my other blog in 2009. Rereading it today brought tears to my eyes.
~~::~~
The date stamp on the file for this poem is August, 2000, so I suppose
that's when I wrote it. It is the narrative of a real incident, just as
it happened. My wife and I were driving around one day, rather
aimlessly, and went into a park. There was a lake, and we took our
shoes off, and waded along the shore line. It wasn't crowded, but there
were quite a few people there, in the water, and along the beach.
I am not a religious person, but this was a deeply moving event. Here is how it happened.
SAVING TIME
Such a simple thing, to lift a child. Hands grasp her sides, a second pair of ribs Beneath plump arms, and swing her high: Inconsequential weight on angel's wings.
Farther down the beach a gathering: Mexican Pentecostal Church of God All clad in white and black, their Sunday best, With angel voices raised in Spanish hymns.
That little girl, no taller than my knee Has not yet mastered walking on dry land. In childish guile she flees her family's eyes Makes her way to water's edge, and in.
Senor Juan Baptiste strides chest-deep Into the lake. The others, arms raised high, Invoke God's power as he grasps behind the neck, Supports each penitent beneath the waves.
When no one else was looking at this girl I saw her falter, fall, then float face down. Two splashing steps, hands on her ribs, I raise her out and draw her to my chest.
We could have driven past this lake today, Or lazed another minute on the shore, Or turned our wading walk the other way, Instead, I found myself above this child.
Juan Baptiste mouths a Spanish prayer, Lifts his new-found brother from the lake, As I lift and hold this child close to me, Saved, as by the very hand of God.
~~::~~
what strange twist of fate brought me to the lake that day to save a small child
