Open To Interpretation
Hawks
Oh, they expect us to live on thin air,
And no joy provide,
Only toil and study, hope denied.
Rather tend the nested fledglings, I,
And fly
Enraptured
In your clouds, storms, blue sky.
The Garden Paths
Oh, the garden paths are well tended
Mile after mile after mile,
But no flowers seed on cement and steel and glass.
Spiders and Wasps
Ivy overgrows my cedar roof,
Spiders and wasps under
The eaves find nooks.
Astronauts' Tears
We don't belong here
And now,
Because of here
We don't belong there.
Rhymes
Rhymes I find
If not
Arm in Arm
In the booth
Arm in arm
Sharing menus.
Syllables
Not enough syllables,
Ornament!
Jacaranda purpleicity,
How's that?
This and That
Between this and that,
This being them,
That being the other them.
Sharing
Well,
Before we shoulder the packs
We need to divide up the mutual loads.
I have a few dilemmas,
Oh!, more than a few,
But I can take on more.
Let's go over yours.
The Black Ship
Oh
Keats imagined your black ship
Then fled overboard
For dry land...
Too scary.
DolphinWords
Notes: I've never resorted to a rhyming dictionary, but wth, and looked for something to go with 'provide', and found 'denied'...and in school, I never resorted to Cliffs/Sparks notes...too easy...but I need help nowabout trying to make sense of old poems for a readership, albeit tiny!...when it was just me, wth...anyway, I've been going over Keats' Odes...there's a grouping of five...the first two, Indolence and Melancholy, are like he's trying to get his feet under him to do the others...I sometimes think this is what Shakespeare was doing with his sonnets, which I've been looking at too...the notes, I mean, on the web...notations are important I guess...scholars make entire careers out of them...after awhile I find they all look alike, and something's missing...anyway, Ode to Melancholy has a deleted Stanza...no telling why Keats didn't use it, it wasn't even with his papers, but rather in correspondence papers with friends...it's kind of cool...and from it The Black Ship above...
quote
Though you should build a bark of dead men's bones,
And rear a phantom gibbet for a mast,
Stitch creeds together for a sail, with groans
To fill it out, blood-stained and aghast;
Although your rudder be a dragon's tail
Long sever'd, yet still hard with agony,
Your cordage large uprootings from the skull
Of bald Medusa, certes you would fail
To find the Melancholy — whether she
Dreameth in any isle of Lethe dull.
Keats (from Cliff notes)
Oh, Person of Interest is back!..."can you see me?"
:)
DavidDavid
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment