Wednesday, December 7, 2016

OTI:three poems and note:11/7/16

Open To Interpretation

Lol
(Laughing out loud)

How to say,
Well,
It's like
Solo
Soloists
Duos
Duetists
Trios
Trysts...
Lol!
Beyond that,
It's a rock and roll band.
Always wanted to be
In a band
On a stage
Displayed,
Why not?
No need to be shy,
And melodies are easy to carry
For when you're carried away.

Next To Never

Next to never
Sat improbable:
Marriage impossible.

Penance

Morning came
And noon
And in the afternoon
The Southern Flight arrived
To find Hephaestus alone
Aboard Medea's Black Ship.
Ishmael and Black Dragon Beryl
Dropped off Petra
On Black Ship Liz
And then
Alighted aboard Black Ship Medea.
"Things are not what they seem."
Said Hephaestus.
"So I've heard."
Said Ishmael.
"My sympathies are with Medea. "
Said Hephaestus,
"Her future peril
I thought to accompany
And deter.
The harpoons were a mechanical error."
"So," Ishmael laughed,
"Another Nemo you would seem."
The Nautilus had come along side,
And Nemo joined
Ishmael and Hephaestus.
Too, Kannon arrived on
Black Dragon Pet.
"I am not of your ability,
Nemo." said Hephaestus.
"Your Nautilus a marvel beyond.
I thought to impress,
But my automaton scrub brushes
Made a mess."
"Just so," said Nemo
"The hazard of mechanical things."
"And your compensation, Hepahestus."
Added Kannon.
"Yes, from my lameness." said Hephaestus,
"On Olympus, my limp
Is always mocked.
If not with words
Then with looks."
"So is seeming cruel,
And creative." said Kannon.
"Would you prefer an even gait
If you could, Hephaestus?"
"That you can grant?"
Hephaestus asked.
"Easily."  Kannon said.
Petra arrived
On a borrowed Black Dragon,
And Pet ran to her
Across the Black Deck,
And Petra scratched Pet
Under her chin.
"My apologies, Queen Petra."
Said Hephaestus.
"Done is done."
Said Petra,
"For me,
A night swim,
For Pet and the Flight
It was grim."
"Captain Kannon," Hephaestus said
"In penance
I will remain lame."
"So you will!" said Pet,
Taking Hephaestus hands
In her mouth,
Crushing the fingers of both.

DolphinWords

Note: it's Pearl Harbor Day...USS New Jersey, BB-62, was nicknamed 'Black Dragon'...



Monday, December 5, 2016

OTI:one poem and notes:12/5/16

Open To Interpretation

Never Trust A Blue Blue Sky

The Black Sea was calm
Under a blue blue sky
And cold winds blew
But no ruffled waves
And the black sails slack
And the white sun shone
From the zenith
Down on the Black Ships.
Hephaestus dismounted
From his Great Eagle
And joined Jason,
Orpheus, Creon, and Glauce,
At the Black Ship Argo's bow.
"I can't hear, Hephaestus!"
Said Jason,
"These winds so loud,
I can't hear, I can't think.
What is happening, Hephaestus?
It was night,
And now a sudden,
High noon day!
And these winds, Hephaestus,
They howl into our ears
But nothing moves!
Hephaestus!  Why did your automatons
Throw the harpoons,
And hazard Petra and her Black Dragon?
No sooner they fell to the waves
Than that night
Became this wind screaming day!
What have you done,
Olympian Hephaestus?"
Hephaestus looked down
At the Black Deck,
Daring not to meet Jason's gaze,
And shrugged.
"Automatons are automatons,"
Hephaestus said,
"And mistook Petra for a threat.
You did steal her ship."
"Not so," Jason said
"It came of its own accord
When we left Harbor with Argo,
And Medea's Black Ship
Gifted to Glauce.
I can't think,
This wind...
Hephaestus, did your scrub brushes
Beguile the Black Ship Liz
To follow us?
Hephaestus? Speak!"
Hephaestus stood downcast
And silent.
The winds howled.
The Black Ships' Ravens and Gulls,
All aloft,
Swung wildly riding the winds.
"Jason..."
The Dodona plank was speaking from the prow...
"I can't hear a thing, Orpheus,"
Jason said,
"What is Athene saying?"
"I can hear," said Orpheus,
"But understanding is for you, Jason.
She says:
'What is yours
Is yours.
What isn't
Isn't.
What is ours
Is ours.
What is
Is.'
And the plank was quiet.
"Clear those damned scrub brushes
From the Black Decks!" commanded Jason.
The Argo's crew set about the task
And Hephaestus flew to Black Ship Liz,
And Glauce's  Black Ship gifted
By Medea,
And his automatons
Collected up the scrub brushes
And tossed them in the sea.
The Ravens and Gulls
Returned to the riggings
And the winds died down.
"Ah, I can think again,"
Said Jason,
"Be that as it may...
Glauce, as proof of my love for you,
You would have me slay Medea,
Revenge her cruelty to you
And your father, Creon?
Medea's cruelty
Was mine as well,
You were innocents.
Strangers in your land,
I thought Medea, our children,
Would find home,
Family, tribe,
Through my second marriage to you,
Glauce."
"My daughter's will is mine,"
Said Creon.
"Medea wrapped her in torment,
And I as well incidentally."
"That pain is passed,
Erased by Athene."
Said Jason.
"Yes, our skins are whole,
Said Creon,
"But still writhe my thoughts."
"Glauce, is it so with you?"
Said Jason.
"My father I obey.
I love you Jason." said Glauce.
"I love you Glauce." said Jason,
"Your father together we follow.
We sail on,
If sail on we can,
With the Black Ship Argo alone.
Leave the Black Ship Liz
And Glauce's Black Ship
Gifted by Medea
Behind
For the Southern Flight to find.
Surely they pursue,
They're minds writhing
With the loss of Petra
And Black Dragon Pet."
And it was night again,
The white sun a white moon
At the zenith over the Black Sea,
And the Black Ship Argo continued
Dark wind blown, black sails full.
Black Ship Liz
And Glauce's Black Ship
Gifted by Medea,
Adrift, left behind
For the Southern Flight to find.

DolphinWords

Notes: reference Euripide's play Medea...I just don't know what to do with the bunch on land...yet...reference BDT poem Lateral Lines...

:)

DavidDavid

Saturday, December 3, 2016

OTI:one poem and notes:12/3/16

Open To Interpretation

A Distant Song, A Distant Light

"I hear Petra singing!"
Back Dragon Pet said.
"Shhh...I see..." said Kannon,
"That tiny orange starlight
On the dark shore of Nevermore.
Wait, Pet, let Ishmael go."
And the Southern Flight waited too,
Hovering in the starry night.
Ishmael's Black Dragon, Beryl,
Alighted beside Petra's
Driftwood fire on the black sand beach,
And Ishmael ran to Petra
And held her in his arms.
"How?" Ishmael asked,
"Oh!" said Petra,
"Mermaids rescued me, Chief!"
And the Ebony Dolphins
Laughed in the phosphorescent waves.

DolphinWords

Note: reference Dolphin rescues...and earlier BDT poem Menu...

:)

DavidDavid



Monday, November 28, 2016

OTI:two poems and notes:11/28/16

Open To Interpretation

The Black Cape

She's come to wave
Her black cape again,
Ferdinand,
Right in front of your nose,
And you all dreamy
Sniffing a white rose.
Just as well,
Standing up straight
She's sure to put you down,
Your blood on her black cape.

DolphinWords

Notes: hmmph...reference the Disney cartoon character, Ferdinand the Bull...thought to revisit Ferdinand, and make something comic, but it came out gothic, as usual!...sigh...was going to work the word matador into it, the female tense, which is I gather, matadora, or torera, or toredora, the latter being made up by Georges Bizet for his opera Carmen as it was easier to rhyme, or some such...hmmph...and finding that turned up Conchita Cintron, the Golden Goddess, slayer of bulls, and not incidentally the mother of numerous children and breeder of rare pedigree dogs...750 bulls, it would seem the official records report...and somehow, Orson Welles had it that her accomplishment proved what men can do women can do as well...I doubt if that is why alone she was so widely popular...she was cute, and handled a sword, which is the staple of many a fantasy pictorial of fantasy heroines!...

quote

"Her record stands as a rebuke to every man of us who has ever maintained that a woman must lose something of her femininity if she seeks to compete with men." —Orson Welles.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Conchita_Cintr%C3%B3n

unquote

ah, well...thinking on the psychology of Ferdinand, and bull fighting, I thought to google: Freud bull fighting...one can put Freud beside anything and get...most anything!..ral...anyway, I find myself looking into a reflection of my own black mirror mirror notions...

quote

The meaning of bullfighting is open to interpretation (as long as the bull is strong and the bullfighter knows what he is doing). The spectator has flashes of intuition that come about from the sheer emotionality of the event. These small flashes open the door to seeing different meanings, to nuances, to another sensibility. Later, from intuition, we usually try to create theories. But the theory is never true. It is just a possibility that we verbalize, just one interpretation that expands our comprehension. There is no “one truth”. It’s more like a dream: we have small images and feelings, but as we try to articulate them, they become foggy or disappear. Bullfighting is an ephemeral art and its meaning is also fleeting. Theories attempt to rationalize it and hold on to a meaning, but the truth of it always escapes us.

http://www.thehemingwayproject.com/bullfighting-hemingway-and-history-from-a-spanish-perspective-an-interview-with-paco-pereda/

unquote

from an interview with Paco Pereda, who is...

quote

Paco Pereda was born in San Sebastían, Spain in 1958. He studied education and philosophy in university, with a focus on the philosophy of cultural anthropology. He carried out his field work in Morocco. He teaches at the University of the Basque Country in San Sebastían. Since 1992, he has been teaching Spanish history and culture to American college students who study abroad in Spain.

unquote

that statement could begin with, "The meaning of Greek tragedy..." and it would probably make better sense...insightful as it is, bullfighting is public torture, the crowd much the same that gathered around the guillotine, lynchings, and such...in most countries these gatherings have moved into dark theaters to watch on silver screens tortures in dramas and adventure tales...and Paco goes on to say...

quote

PP: I don’t have special faith in one theory or the other; they are just tools that can help us. What happens with the bulls is what happens with classical art: someone is always proposing a new argument or thesis. None ever stick, though. The meaning remains open to interpretation and speculation. Like the effect of a mirror, when we seek to explain bullfighting we are really explaining ourselves, how we think, how we feel.

and

The process of interpreting is an interesting one. We really have to dig out our own subconscious. As the American anthropologist C. Geertz said, we encounter a “dark clarity” or a “clear darkness”. If we over explain things, we kill intuition. When we put too much light on some truth we suddenly grasp, it ceases to be true. We need a dark obscurity to keep on feeding emotions, to keep the function of the theatrical alive in our lives.

from same site

unquote

hmmmph...I suppose at some point myself I'll stop belaboring the conceit of the color black!...

Black Sand

To stay warm, Petra sat close to her driftwood fire
On the black sand beach,
Her arms around her knees,
And sang to the Stars
And the Ebony Dolphins
Riding the phosphorescent waves.

DolphinWords

:)

DavidDavid

Saturday, November 26, 2016

OTI:three poems:11/26/16

Open To Interpretation

Standing Rock

So,
Another rescue
By way of explanation attempt
Failed
Lost in the Sargasso Sea
Like floating plastic packaging adrift
Along with the seaweed swirl
That becalms, traps
Ships and thoughts
Like beer can six pack
Plastic holding rings
Around Sea Turtle's neck.
Easy enough to understand,
Easy enough to rescue,
Easy enough to lose
In a drunken stupor sea,
Forgotten struggles in the lea.

Beauty and the Beast

In so wide an expansive
There's just you and I
In a storied stone tower.

Nailed

Tree wood
Nailed
Connected
Proof against
Shaking earth.
Who'd a thought
The house of sticks
Outlasts
The house of bricks?

DolphinWords

Friday, November 25, 2016

OTI:one poem:11/25/16

Open To Interpretation

Beneath The Ruffled Waves

Without Petra nearby
Pet, blind, couldn't see with Petra's eyes
And Pet rested disconsolate
Behind Ishi's village
At the entrance to her cave,
Her chin on the ground
In blindness black.
Petra had been nowhere to be found
After their sudden fall
To the wind ruffled black waves.
Ishi's family worked
Changing the dressings
On Pet's wounded dangling wing.
Petra's crew gathered around
And no one could sing
Blinded too by black sorrow.
"Ichi and Kannon still search
With the long slender craft."
Said Ishmael.
"What from the sky we couldn't find
Maybe from the surface of the sea
They will see.
Some devious thing
In those scrub brushes
Hephaestus made.
They cleaned
But confused
The Black Decks.
And unexpected,
Black Ship Liz
Joined the Argo
And Glauce's Black Ship
Gifted to her by Medea.
Orpheus now commands the Liz,
Jason the Argo,
Glauce's follows,
Creon commanding.
Set on revenge they are
In pursuit of Medea
And the Golden Fleece.
Medea and the Northern Reach
Are Unaware
Of the approaching Greeks
And their terror.
What do we have?" Ishmael continued,
"Ichi's craft
And Nemo's dented tube.
The Northern Flight has a Queen."
"And you have none?" asked Kannon
Emerging from the Conifer Forest
With Ichi and his crew in tow
Back from the search.
"This is too slow,"
Kannon said to Ishi
Still working on Pet's wing.
"Open your wing!"
Kannon said to Pet.
And Pet spread both wings wide.
"And by my eyes can you see?"
Asked Kannon
"Just so." said Pet.
"Then. let's go
And rouse your sleepy head
Dragon friends!
Meet us at the Harbor
Beneath Volcano Never,
There's Dragon's work to do!"
Said Kannon to the crews.
And leaped up to Petra's saddle
On Pet's neck
And off they flew.

DolphinWords

Wednesday, November 23, 2016

OTI:five poems, notes, two illustrations:11/23/16

Open To Interpretation

Maybe

Well,
Maybe this will work
In Irvine Park,
And else wares alike,
With Maya my dog,
Her leash around my wrist
While I poke at my iphone notepad
Writing the epic.
Sometime she nuzzles my hand to say
"Let's go!"
Pulling letters away from words,
Words away from the "epic".

An Epic

"An epic" said Poe, "laconic."
"Just so, it would it would seem."
Melville said.
"He has book one!" added Twain.
"Eleven more!" said Apollodorus.
"He has oaks of compare with Dodona." 
Said Homer.  "That park."
"And woodpeckers too to
Tap tap tap." said Cervantes.
"Yes, we'll all be tap tap tapped."  said Euripides. 
"And poked poked poked." said Poe.
"Would you prefer briefer conjurings?" asked Dante.
"Yes, it is always the thought
To just string him along..." said Melville.
"Just to be here." said Dante.
"My Dulcinea for that.!" said Cervantes
"Lenore." said Poe.
"Beatrice." said Dante.
"Enough," said Emily, "leave him be..."

A Sharp Turn

Petra guided Pet with her legs
To make Pet make a sharp turn.

Chorus

Oh, Maya has stolen the hot dog package!
His poking distracted!
And goes for his hand when he goes for the empty package!
And Maya growls!
This may not be so bad...
Enough...
Just so.

A Sudden Fall

Like wild dogs' reach,
The harpoons flung from the Black Ships
Ripped Pet's left wing,
And downward with Petra
Pet spun into the Black Sea.

DolphinWords

Notes: Maya, my dog, has outgrown her old dog carrier, and funds being short, and the summer heat, delayed getting a new one, and then I had notice of a used one for free, and a delay of that delivery (from my niece:), delayed things more.  But now I have it, and if fits perfect in Silver, my jeep, where I have taken out the passenger seat, and the back seat, and made a flat floor with some plywood and mats.  It's quite nice to have her beside me, and safe away from jumping on me while I drive.  And she can still look out and see the passing scenes.  First outing was to Irvine Park...curiously while there, we walked together a ways out into the riverbed, away from everyone...just the foothills in the distance...first time in a long time I've been even remotely out and about in 'wilderness'...and realized I have no compulsion anymore to go 'outside', or even dote on wilderness scenery...if there isn't human habitation about, of some sort, it's just too lonely!...this may be a passing curio...a few far flung journeys now with Maya, and I'll have back my adventuring!...anyway, I realized I can do something workaday like while walking her, namely write, poking at the notepad, as noted above...I like that, to be outside and about when writing...thought to do self similar thing with my watercolors, but way to problematic with Maya the wild thing beside...when people ask if they can come close, I tell them Maya is wild...maybe me too...the proof copy of my Creative Space Publishing book, The Black Deck Tales came...it's really neat...and not too many errors of spelling and such, I'm finding...in a day or two, I'll have those, those I can find, fixed, and I'll be able to post it live to amazon like Women Can Do No Wrong...not a single copy of that one has sold, which was expected, and likely BDT will follow suit...but, now, when I go to Orange County Poetry Club gatherings, I'll have a 'text' to read from...always wanted to have a chap book...and there's never been a vanity onus to poets making their own chap books, which now CSP facilitates...I'm okay with it anyway...whole blog now for years is just such...I don't know if I can add eleven more epic chapter books to BDT!...a passing notion...but the plot is thickening...and I think I've morphed the Dodona Homeridae into a Chorus which I'll indicate with the underlining when they are just together chatting...ral...things to keep in mind:

quote

  1. Praepositio: Opens by stating the theme or cause of the epic. This may take the form of a purpose (as in Milton, who proposed "to justify the ways of God to men"); of a question (as in the Iliad, which Homer initiates by asking a Muse to sing of Achilles' anger); or of a situation (as in the Song of Roland, with Charlemagne in Spain).
  2. Invocation: Writer invokes a Muse, one of the nine daughters of Zeus. The poet prays to the Muses to provide him with divine inspiration to tell the story of a great hero. (This convention is restricted to cultures influenced by European Classical culture. The Epic of Gilgamesh, for example, or the Bhagavata Purana do not contain this element.)
  3. In medias res: narrative opens "in the middle of things", with the hero at his lowest point. Usually flashbacks show earlier portions of the story.
  4. Enumeratio: Catalogues and genealogies are given. These long lists of objects, places, and people place the finite action of the epic within a broader, universal context. Often, the poet is also paying homage to the ancestors of audience members.
  5. Epithet: Heavy use of repetition or stock phrases: e.g., Homer's "rosy-fingered dawn" and "wine-dark sea".
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Epic_poetry

unquote

pics of front and back covers below...all black...of course...


:)

DavidDavid