Sunday, August 20, 2017

OTI:one poem:8/20/17

Open To Interpretation
Follow Your Rhymes
Sometimes sense on the run chasing us all
Chatting furry tailed fat grey squirrels
Rollicking around around before Fall
Sends us underground from Winter's snow whirls.

It should come as no surprise that we are
What we are perched atop our bones and skulls.
Fishermen pull strange fish from the sea tar,
All the same to the pier posts' waiting gulls.

What to do to distinguish me from them
But to bring you flowers with their sweet scents
I gathered from meadows the picas hem
And bring down swift hawks to their burrowed tents.

I'll not make fun in the roil with you,
Or doubt the sense of is and isn't true.

Saturday, August 19, 2017

OTI:one poem and notes:8/19/17

Open To Interpretation


I have a harem of lovely cashiers,
Possibly as many as too many,
And when our vast fast food heaven time nears,
Shyly as first loves we get all smiley

Exchanging over counters our delights
With ritual responsibility.
Done, we move on with our goodbyes' last sights--
To each our now owned possibility.

But wait!  Through the hot dog stand driving through
I overhear your name while turned away
And along with that wide smile from you
I now return to someone known each day.

Oh, in these random hell or heaven queues,
In some lines I find providential ewes.


Notes:...update: changed 'ewes' to 'clues'...and thought of "Oh, I, in these random hell heaven queues, In some lines find providential ewes' clues."...and providential had been preferential...and, updateupdate, changed clues back to ewes....hmmph...sometimes 'sense' is on the run!...MidnightMovies...rolled over to see..brb...movieLoganLucky2017 with British actor Daniel Craig a bit out of movie...I just saw Daniel in...brb...tvseriesArchangel2005 on amazon or amazon's hbo...he can carry a movie, kind of like a point guard can carry a basketball he was out of place in Logan...Archangel is a cautionary tale fit for today's news...and oddly I just saw a story that statues of Stalin are going up in Russia, and some Russian patriots are threatening the European nations now free of soviet rule to not take down statues commemorating Russian wonders what dwells under the guise of patriotism world wide...the scenes of Russia in Archangel are very cool...brb...and it was filmed in Russia......'Harem'...sometimes I just go where the rhymes take me!....oh, after seeing Logan Lucky, thought to go to old town GG for Mexican food dinner...should have, but diverted to the outdoor theater thereabout for SOC's production of Shakespeare's Henry IV Part 1...brb...yes, that was it...I left at intermission...bit cold, and I, being a bit deaf I guess, couldn't follow...I want to say Shakespeare writes poetry and the actors had no idea how to deliver poetry...but what do I know...but it was a semi pro performance...and with a lot of high school kids in supporting, a good thing...and they have no budget for stage or costumes...I'll study out Henry IV, which I tried to do in school, and that a long while back!...and go see it all the way through...



Friday, August 18, 2017

OTI:one poem and notes:8/18/17

Open To Interpretation

Bucket Of Coins

So, which way tonight from here to far there
With orange five gallon buckets full of coins
For snacks, and the White Truck's gasoline share?
You'll be lucky to gird that old truck's loins.

Maya, my pet, you'll sleep easy in back,
Us rumbling to morning at the North Coast;
We'll stretch our legs bounding over sea wrack.
Hmmph, in tow returning; that engine toast.

And with luck our chariot will make it
Just in time to see the Moon's overcome
The Sun's, or at least clouded day night lit.
To the eyes, newscasts' drab less bothersome.

Go! Back and forth between eighteen wheelers!
Or stay. Panning for coins is for seers.

Notes:...last night I had to un-stack the storage boxes in the garage to get to the five gallon buckets of coins...two....that I had saved from the Valley...from tips and loose change...I'd empty my pockets and toss the coins in the buckets and they just sort of accumulated over almost ten years!...and they've been an annoyance to haul around...too heavy to hardly I've just left them out of the way...and it was too daunting a thing to separate them, roll them, take them to a bank...or take them to the supermarket and use the coin machine...they charge like over ten percent! they've been sitting, and casting about where to get gas money for a trip to see the eclipse and maps says it is a fourteen hour drive one way to Salem, Oregon...I thought to just put the buckets in the back of the pick up truck, along with Maya my dog, and be on our way!...but thinking it through, the price of gas being what it is, it would be awkward to count out forty or fifty dollars in loose coins at each gas station stop...then again, I thought, and 'panned' out one hundred and twenty dollars last night from a portion of one bucket tossed into the wheelbarrow...wearing my headlamp, it was an odd pursuit on the front porch step after dark...left off...just left the buckets out front...not likely anyone would bother them...and today this afternoon, when the front of the house becomes shady, I rolled the wheelbarrow back in place, pulled up a folding chair, and began panning just struck me that I was like panning for gold...and it was a contemplation of Lincoln, Roosevelt, Jefferson, and Washington, with the news story worry beads my thoughts's a perspective we don't have, to touch each penny, each nickel, each dime, each quarter...and my roommates took an interest, one offered coin wraps, and the other just sat right down and helped no no, I said...I didn't want them taking time away from their own time...but H. insisted, and she tells me the story that her husband had a newspaper rack job in Vietnam for awhile, and she counted and separated coins with him all the time...go figure!...her help had it all done in no time...coins separated into paper bags...and waiting to be wrapped......the last line of 'Buckets' could be 'looking for stars is for astronomers'...likely too elliptical a reach to suggest stars and planets and moons are like coins, but what the heck, I'll just make the link here!...anyway, I'll set aside the windfall coin treasure, and in the Fall roll up to the North Coast in leisurely fashion!...I've had this little one day a week job for fifty dollars for the last nine months, and it will end end of August...and after Labor Day the crowds will be good time for a rollabout......oh, I'm sorta inventing my own Sonnet form fooling around as I have been...same as Shakespeare's, three quatrains, with envoy, abab, cdcd, efef, gg...iambic pentameter, sorta...the wrinkle I've added, is the first three lines of each quatrain are one view of a back and forth, then the fourth line of each, is response...and the envoy is 'forth'...and 'back'...'Buckets' and last post's 'Lesson' show this real distinctive as the 'forths' are in italics!, back back back, and forth, three times...then forth and back...ral!...



Wednesday, August 16, 2017

OTI:one poem and notes:8/16/17

Open To Interpretation


It's true enough, I patronize, you say,
And frankly tell me my bookish lectures
Before you seated make you want away.
What else would you expect from your fixtures?

I'm 'dull and boring' I'm left with holding,
Looking out over a long empty room,
Not accepting, this so undeserving.
You're a dolt with a tilt, a pan with broom.

You reach for me like some wounded lost thing
That you startled back into its burrow
Awaiting doom from your swift sharp sting.
Yes, you made concern her forehead furrow.

Fug head, you lost and haven't seen her since.
Not so, I see her again with each wince.


Notes:I...I dunno about that one...almost like a post up note on the refrigerator not to forget milk...and one shouldn't forget Alfred Lord Tennyson...I did...and confused him with Lord Byron, which I've always skipped over...and looking up Alfred I expected to see Byron, and no, Alfred wrote the Charge of the Light Brigade, which I memorized in grammar school, and where I likely acquired my knack for onomatopoeia, alliteration, and assonance, and all, along with Edgar Allen Poe!...some poets leave their 'voice' in your head...have thought to make a horror story about that!...the Poetry Foundation's take has a really glowing biography, and after going through it, wondering why Tennyson isn't mentioned much, re- read the Light Brigade, and some of the shorter poems, like Break Break Break, and one that looks to be needed to read by someone with a lisp...maybe that was deliberate!, and concluded Tennyson is forgotten because he's forgettable, like all the contest poets that write poems on some theme the contest directors propose...Tennyson did that when in college, and won, which kind of set him on his way...and it was a long and circuitous way...but he figuratively kept winning contests, and became very successful...he earned his I delved a bit deeper, and read some of the Idylls of the King, and came to the thought that Tennyson shouldn't be forgotten!...I know my Black Deck Tales need some kind of ornamentation, and the Idylls is a marvel of ornamentation!...I find myself reading it, and thinking, 'oh, there's this and that I have, but not that and this, oh, I'll borrow!'...brb...


Dagonet, the fool, whom Gawain in his mood
Had made mock-knight of Arthur's Table Round,
At Camelot, high above the yellowing woods,
Danced like a wither'd leaf before the hall.
And toward him from the hall, with harp in hand,
And from the crown thereof a carcanet
Of ruby swaying to and fro, the prize
Of Tristram in the jousts of yesterday,
Came Tristram, saying, "Why skip ye so, Sir Fool?"


there's much to read in Tennyson...a report when I come up for air!




Tuesday, August 15, 2017

OTI:one poem and notes:8/15/17

Open To Interpretation
Oh, to be as an antique sonneteer,
I mean distant far away Time behind
When men chased with stone tipped arrows and spear,
And only composed courting songs in their mind.

Not to discount the marvel of etching,
To send along in words not to forget
That read far away upon receiving
All Cupid's sweet missives without regret.

But to be close enough for a whisper
And from those unknown mysterious dells
Mnemosyne on Pegasus transfer
Our most delirious magical spells...

Now we transcribe to a distant mirror
Forgetful once fearless we made love near.


Notes: hmmph...I was just going over some medical commentary on hearing...nowadays one can crowd source any condition on the web...the 'mirror'...clearly we are all in better condition then when we were cave dwellers...or any rate, the thought came that that is how we now get our primary medical advise, by reading/hearing it off the web...we're a far cry from the days I saw the last of...the home visit by a doctor with his big traveling bag...intimacy of any sort has become a nose in a book, or lcd screen...I've thought maybe I'm going a bit tone deaf to notes in conversation...I find myself saying 'huh?' a lot, 'can you repeat that?'...I still pass hearing tests with flying's more like when someone is talking it is just too fast, like when learning a foreign language...and this I think because everyday folk don't pace and articulate their speaking like movie/media stars...this is really notable at poetry readings...I comprehend like maybe twenty percent of what I'm hearing...which isn't poems are fashioned in a way that make for multiple readings/hearings to comprehend...all through the rock and roll era I was more taken by the tunes than the lyrics...I couldn't make heads or tales of many of the lyrics...still the case, but now with the youtube songs with lyrics clips, I can understand, even rap!...well, off to OCPC reading to muse on this...a report when I return!, check back...update: rolled over to the Gypsy Den and read out Sonneteer and White Elephant...nibbled on some kind of stir fried vegies, and sipped one corona beer...and understood maybe ten percent of the words of the other readers!...but everyone was a tune, and those I hear 100 percent!



Monday, August 14, 2017

OTI:one poem and notes:8/14/17

Open To Interpretation
White Elephant

What will be...Will you be a Hindu next?
What was...Or were you a Hindu before?
What is...Maybe you have nothing for text.
What can be...I am nothing wanting more.

I must find something in common for us!
No one says it is likely we can be.
I'll try being outspoken garrulous,
"Do you want to be a Hindu with me?"

"We can reincarnate right now and here;
I can be your flying white elephant,
You fast asleep on this dream boat bier--"
So would have my evangelical cant.

Is it too much to ask of tomorrow
To offer only what I can borrow?

DolphinWords dog's name, Maya, came up in conversation...Maya is named after one of the dogs in movieEightBelowZero2006...and too, for Maya, the dream notion from some eastern religion...have never been sure...notion is 'life is but a dream', 'we are the stuff dreams are made upon', 'am I dreaming I'm seeing a butterfly, or is the butterfly dreaming of seeing me'...I think I have that wrong...brb...


Now I do not know whether I was then a man dreaming I was a butterfly, or whether I am now a butterfly, dreaming I am a man.


about, so, I searched 'Maya dream' and re-acquainted myself with Maya, the Hindu goddess...brb...


Who is depicted here? This relief scene from around 100 to 300 CE depicts the dream of Maya, the mother of the historical Buddha. Queen Maya is asleep in her palace under a full moon. An attendant stands guard outside. In her dream, a white elephant enters her side. This is a miraculous conception that results in the birth of the future Buddha.


hmmph...just caught myself...I conflated Buddhism with Hinduism with regard to Maya and the White Elephant...which is actually kind of cool!...anyway, I was curious if the term 'white elephant' came from this iconography...and it may have...a 'white elephant' is a gift given to someone in spite...the spite being that the gift's upkeep is beyond the resources of the recipient...and they're stuck with the expense...the term has drifted to mean any kind of bric a brac hanging around the house gathering dust...hence, white elephant sales where folk exchange their white elephants!...don't know but I have a house gathering dust, with the upkeep driving me to distraction! India, someone would literally give someone a white elephant, held sacred, and so requiring the devotion and up keep sacred things require...with Maya my dog, I may be off to see the eclipse...her rough house play with me is still problematic, but of late I've been giving her baths, and while once I have her all soaped up she's okay, when I first try to wet her down with the garden house hooked to the kitchen faucet, and so warm water, she goes nuts, and tries desperately to get away...I have her cornered in a little pen I've made next to the back porch between the porch, the house wall, and fence...these three side I can enclose with a little gate Hi helped me took me awhile to think of making this little pen...simple enough now that I see it, but I was really stuck how to give Maya baths, being how she's so strong, and rambunctious, and smart...she catches on right away, and if she doesn't want to do something, like getting in the jeep, she wont...and I'm after a few baths now, she's wise to what I'm about, and on seeing the garden hose in place, water flowing, she gives distance, and stubbornly wont come anywhere near the pen--she holds up inside the porch!...try as I might, baloney and hot dogs wont even lure her out...though after a long while, she caves to this...but noting her avoidance of the hose, a wonder came...and I bought a couple of those little water spray bottles for indoor now, when she begins to roughhouse, I have the spray bottle handy...and hardly a squirt is necessary, as after a few she's caught on, and coupled with saying 'No' maybe it will imprint, and she'll leave off all that fuss...I've heard of using like a commercial pepper spray for this trick, but the water works fine...just the thought of being squirted looks to be becoming a deterrent when I point the, so...maybe I can manage a long trip with just Maya and me!...and another idea came...I thought up to leave her at a boarding kennel...looked about for these, and most of them offer training too...I've been reluctant to hire a trainer, because of the expense, and I've never understood how paying a trainer to come to my house, or work one on one with Maya at like PetsMart, would accomplish anything I couldn't do is very labor/time intensive, and most I could see a trainer doing in an hour or so now and then would be demonstrating...anyway, thought is to board Maya for a few days in the Fall, and go to Tuolumme for a backpack excursion...I miss much!




Sunday, August 13, 2017

OTI:one poem and notes:8/13/17

Open To Interpretation

Spaced Stationed

They'll shrink your precious little gonads,
And your invaluable ovaries,
Those star sent radiation nomads
That blast away your dearest progenies.

Lost, your bones' calcium disposition;
They'll be much softer and it much harder
To want taking the upright position
Once down, heroic, just to fall over.

One would think the stars are just over there,
And they are when your skin feels the sun's heat,
Your eyes avoid the sun's baleful stare,
Or at night, telescoped, find starry seat.

It's one more hurdle that makes love curdle,
How the      to      up there shelled like a turtle.


Notes: ...I've been meaning to see movieChildrenOfMen2006...and about to post up Spaced Stationed, thought to watch it, as I recalled its theme of infertility...and too thought to see again movieTheHandmaidsTale1990, which I recalled was themed that way...there aren't very many movies with this theme...brb...looked, and maybe this is the only one so specifically about such...such being the tale of a baby being born after eighteen years of no babies being born world wide...and in another dystopian future world, though presently there are pockets just as dystopian!...really a good flic, and it did get some academy nominations...another time for the Handmaid's Tale, which looks to be more of a movieDivergent tale...both these tales are categorized as science fiction tales, which the Handmaid's Tale author vehemently's not about 'alien squids' she insists...and points out everything she wrote was pegged to actual historical cultures, past and present...Robert Heinlein had a category, wiki's take notes, 'speculative fiction'...but neither tale is all noted, one can look about and see pockets of the plots really occurring, what about the problem of infertility in space? far the studies are hit and miss, but it does seem to be the case that radiation beyond the protecting magnetic belts around earth will make men and women infertile...along with zero, science fiction will likely patch this with artificial gravity and artificial radiation shields, along with all the other patches, like faster than light travel...but these are real deal barriers just when our imaginations have peopled the cosmos traveling about in space ships and such...hindsight would seem to suggest the first thing to discover in exploring the stars is how to have kids beyond earth...they're starting to get around to that!...meanwhile, an ominous rumor that sperm counts in males are declining around the to Washington Post article, end of July recent, and much the same in all the major media, and all filled with advertisement and difficult to get at...overpopulation has for years been a bugaboo...not for Nature, Nature over populates every which way, having learned the hazards of marginal existences the hard way...which is one of the curios! can Nature, thought to be mindless, out think us with our minds?'s like Nature has handed us the baton, and said, 'Here, if you're so smart, see how far you get with it!'...the end scenes in Children of Men are really touching, as they overlay the travails of Joseph, Mary, and baby Jesus, along with the millions of tales in war torn pockets...



Saturday, August 12, 2017

OTI:one poem and notes:8/12/17

Open To Interpretation
Straight Up
So, un-invited, I should not imbibe?
Tell me, Destiny, your black deck intact,
Should I offer your name, the doormen bribe?
I have few sails left to display such tact.

Woebegone I look, my book under arm,
In this crowded room that your looks command.
My appearance you think my show's worst harm;
My pages of rhyme in lowly demand.

At my table in this book fair's fable,
I continue head down on some new bit,
While the commotions' motion wobble
Carries them past without a rhyme to fit.

Okay, I'll look straight up, my book in view,
For those herding by to see me with you.

Notes:...reading about Charles Tennyson--Turner, I felt some a poet he was overshadowed by his more famous brother, Alfred Tennyson, and Charles brought some of that on himself by writing sonnets almost exclusively!...and then just up and quitting for a stretch of years...brb...


Charles (Tennyson) Turner was the sonnettomaniac's sonnettomaniac, his huge output of sonnets—342 of them in the posthumous Collected Sonnets Old and New brought out by his nephew Hallam Tennyson (1880), all now gathered by F. B. and M. Pinion in The Collected Sonnets of Charles (Tennyson) Turner1


...that site is called Project Muse, and one must join by subscription...would like to read Charles' whole story...thinking on it made me imagine what it was like at gatherings with his brother...and that the seed for Straight Up, but after drafts it came out much different!...wish I could find his sonnets...look again...brb...oh, this site, link, opens to pdf on the computer...problematic on my iphone...probably need an app for phones...I don't understand has all his poems with extensive intro...I posted his sonnet about meteors two posts back...there were three Tennyson brother poets...brb...Frederick Tennyson...hmmph...most of these old time poets were in circles, and that's how garnering editors' attentions came about...likely it is still so...the intro to Charles' poems has a bit on how booksellers could make or break a book, and author, by simply having it on the shelves or not, displayed prominently or not...likely that is still so!...oh...MidnightMovies...watched another 'atomic blondish' series called Hunted...I think Laura Croft Tomb Raider brought these all on!...and rolled over to Regal this evening and saw movieTheDarkTower2017...this has to be from a comic book, though it has Stephan King's 'brand''s another dystopian Zombie Apocalypse tale, and King rolled out eight novels in this tale's series probably as fast as Gunslinger reloads his antique colt 45s...Matthew McConaughey as villain talks his victims down, a word or gesture  at a time...kinda like his car commercials! lounge chair neighbor was snoring, shoes off...content with having found a cool air conditioned place to nap, I suspect!...




Friday, August 11, 2017

OTI:one poem:8/11/17

Open To Interpretation


Here then a fortunate geography,
The sprawling shore line of my tiny Town
Fetches up against both Mountains and Sea--
Oh, Town's not tiny, I'm being a clown.

It can be said Town's a wondrous feat,
More than all the air and water and stone--
Oh here, follow my feckless fawn's conceit:
Town's much bigger than that other Dog's bone.

Here or there, one round Moon or distant Star,
Molten afire, cold as forgotten,
Are the same as nothing to my Town's Car
With us riding between Sea and Mountain.

Here we are beneath the tall pine tree's sway
Watching the wind blown sail boats on the bay.




Thursday, August 10, 2017

OTI:two poems and notes:8/10/17

Open To Interpretation

But if I were a fish, oh wait, I am,
That aside, where else would I go swimming
With you even though you are all for slam
ing into the sea an Osprey diving?

Now they know how Bears wander collar tracked
Waking up from their snowy winter sleep
Looking all over, as I might, love lacked,
Bedeviled by the Ravens laughing deep.

Where else, really, can we ever chance meet?
When I swim, you would fly, if I fly, then,
Likewise, so our ever opposite feat;
Our elements with no shared solution.

Oh, flying fish leap and come aboard when
A hungry Dolphin the bow wave within.

Black Screens
The Giants' airplanes criss crossed the blue sky,
The Giants' ships littered paths on the sea,
And while the Millennium passed by
Birds ground fell, fish surface floated, care free.

And on the continents from oxygen
Filled caves inhabitants visited the
Surface suit protected from their Toxin
To gardens of cactus pested by 'huh?'.

Who in the world did everyone follow,
Mindless of Nature's befores and afters?
Well, they seized their day, diseased tomorrow,
And looked back, alack, from among the stars.

And the painful thing, the good recorded,
The virtual for the black screens' gathered.


Notes: oh, my eyes weary, tomorrow I'll recount the syllables...spelling in Spanish is easier as each letter is articulated when spoken...English is a guess, spelling for the photographic memoried!...anyway, I found a web site that had a forum just for could post up, and there was encouragement to share comments, so long as they weren't 'ad hominem'...brb...'against rather than for' I guess...the site is inside a site that provides the forum format...before I'd found a similar site for clubs, namely author want a club, you want a forum?...use this easy template...or so it goes...but the advertising just kills such...and the posts at the sonnet forum were far between...wondering where just to find other 'sonneteers' the seed for Aboard...and at that site was a sonnet by Shelly, a fine rant, and that was the seed for Black Screens...I wont link the site...the adds made my iphone go nuts...but try it with the second thought, don't, it's a mess...brb...

"Missing the Meteors"
A hint of rain--a touch of lazy doubt--
Sent me to bedward on that prime of nights,
When the air met and burst the aerolites,
Making the men stare and the children shout:
Why did no beam from all that rout and rush
Of darting meteors, pierce my drowsed head?
Strike on the portals of my sleep? and flush
My spirit through mine eyelids, in the stead
Of that poor vapid dream? My soul was pained,
My very soul, to have slept while others woke,
While little children their delight outspoke,
And in their eyes' small chambers entertained
Far notions of the Kosmos! I mistook
The purpose of that night--it had not rained.

--Charles Tennyson-Turner
from Basic Sonnet Forms from from writers exchange board
author explains the volta, the turn from one idea to another contrasting one...apparently this is a rigid rule like rhyming and meter...then again...that meteor poem was in the mix for Black Screens...and Shelly's...brb...


England in 1819
By Percy Bysshe Shelley 
An old, mad, blind, despised, and dying King;
Princes, the dregs of their dull race, who flow
Through public scorn,—mud from a muddy spring;
Rulers who neither see nor feel nor know,
But leechlike to their fainting country cling
Till they drop, blind in blood, without a blow.
A people starved and stabbed in th' untilled field;
An army, whom liberticide and prey
Makes as a two-edged sword to all who wield;
Golden and sanguine laws which tempt and slay;
Religion Christless, Godless—a book sealed;
A senate, Time’s worst statute, unrepealed—
Are graves from which a glorious Phantom may
Burst, to illumine our tempestuous day.
a fine rant!...

Tuesday, August 8, 2017

OTI:one poem and notes:8/8/17

Open To Interpretation
Oh pity the angel assigned to me
Taken away from cloud splashed blue heaven
To flutter about this strip mall laundry
Looking for somehow someone to leaven.

The clothes drying, so some things must be done,
After waiting some I leave still with you
Wondering what's next for our earthly fun.
Surely I gave you pause to continue.

Oh, Youth knows only Beauty's friendship,
Knights in battle dress have swords and shields,
And I have constantly my Town's kinship;
Do angels prefer Elysian fields?

How many sparrows have you sadly found,
Fallen, helpless to leave this leaden ground?


Note: as it happens recently, four...a little personal memorial to my failed cat wounded sparrows' rescues...and the while I've been meaning to study out the 'fall of a sparrow' Bible tale for reference, and find it a reference to reference a dialog piece by Shakespeare's Hamlet...first Hamlet...this spoken just before the last scene...brb...


If your mind dislike any thing, obey it: I will
forestall their repair hither, and say you are not
Not a whit, we defy augury: there's a special
providence in the fall of a sparrow. If it be now,
'tis not to come; if it be not to come, it will be
now; if it be not now, yet it will come: the
readiness is all: since no man has aught of what he
leaves, what is't to leave betimes?


There must be a name for Hamlet's, and Shakespeare's circuitous thinking...brb...well, Hamlet with Horatio is like Jesus with his disciples...he speaks in do passages in the Bible...the fall of a sparrow is from Matthew 10:29...brb...


Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing? and one of them shall not fall on the ground without your Father.


The sense of that is God cares for everyone, and Hamlet takes that and plays with it...myself, I am unschooled in Elizabethan obtuseness...but apparently the contemporary audience could follow right along...and it may well be I shy away from church as I can't follow that either!...and here I am attempting my own obtuse sonnets...hmmph...oh...what this is came out of:...Spenser linked his sonnet sequence to the Book of Common Prayer, and I was searching to see what Shakespeare knew of Spenser, and found a blogger that thinks Shakespeare is linking his sonnets to the Book of Psalms...there are like 150 Psalms, and Shakespeare has 154 sonnets in his sequence...that  link is probably a reach, but looking about, a lot of scholars have found things from Psalms picked up in the Sonnets...a curio...another curio is the Psalms themselves...reading wiki's take, I was impressed how they resemble a Book of Common Prayer that has come apart over a long time and tumultuous I looked at, Psalm 90, has about it the same progression in thinking as a Petrarchan's often times noted sonnets and Psalms are related...and the Psalms were set to music, some of the notation still extant, but no one is sure what notes are represented...that's been lost...a suspicion is the Psalms are like the Vedas...


The Rig Veda resembles a hymnal more than a Bible. If pressed to compare the Rig Veda to Christian scripture, it would most closely parallel the Psalms,


There's a bunch of sites that come to that, as too I came to sites comparing Shakespeare's Sonnet 18 with Spenser's Sonnet 75, as I did in yesterday's post...somewhere I imagine a Psalm that resembles those too...brb...


 the correspondences run through Sonnet 75, which falls on April 7, the Sunday after Easter.


and that would be April 7, 1594...brb...oh, I got diverted by a fellow named Southwell, who came to one of those hanged drawn and quartered ends seen in the movies about Queen Elizabeth...he was a Catholic Jesuit, something not to be at the time in England...and he wrote up some things that are said to have influenced Shakespeare...couldn't find much on that...but looking at Hamlet's bit, I can kind of hear Southwell's lament!...he really went through hell...



Monday, August 7, 2017

OTI:one poem and notes:8/7/17

Open To Interpretation
Sometimes I have this migratory thing:
From overhead the Geese's procession,
Honking as the silent sun is setting,
Their ritual bids; now out of fashion.

What I would learn on their long slow winged flight,
To leave the ordered earth towns far below,
Pilgrimage to beyond horizons' sight;
Just pick up and leave off the whole damn show.

Oh, Dolphins could be our destination,
To nest by the seashore and watch their leaps
Beneath the sun that's forsworn Night's mission,
And learn something of Dolphins' ocean deeps.

When they have taught the Dolphins our lingo,
Will that be our staid rituals' bingo?

Notes:  so, so, I'm try to make that sonnet fit some new study...and having got that far with it, rolled over to have spaghetti and salad and soda...on the way, the sports talk show hosts are going on about a little league, girls!, team, that took a team selfie after a victory, challenging the next team with one finger raised...problem is it was the middle fingers, so, so, administration removed them from the world series tournament...and the talks show hosts go on and on, determining this a lesson Social Media Generation 2.0 needs to learn...they are the second generation to grow up with the  new thing, the first can be forgiven such indiscretions...well, well, I thought, and found a table in the back at the pizza front were three elderly ladies and an older gentleman...and I have big ears...eaves dropping in restaurants, on public transportation, here!, kind of a hobby!...and their talk, their patter, reminded me of something...and I realized, oh crap, they're all college professors/administrators...I have been away from that for a long time!...and they were going on about lessons for kids transiting from high school to college...Europe's options, our options....the evenness of their perfectly grammatically sentences, and calm quiet voices intoning patronizing counsels...well, the sports talk hosts were at least funny...but it's the same...the same everywhere...and I thought, 'bingo', 'Ritual' is spot on...leave it be...and there's in study was some of Spenser's sonnets, he did like eighty of them in a series...there addressed to his girl, and while most sonnet sequences...(they're all addressed to someone someone is in love with!)...end in failure, misery, and such, Spenser's ends with a successful courtship and marriage...go figure!...and while smiling at this, I took note at wiki's take, that Spenser's sonnets are linked to The Book Of Common Prayer...I had never heard of such, though, without knowing, sitting in church I experienced it...the book gives counsel on how to go about each day, providing for each day a lesson, a parable, a psalm, something...and Spenser stemmed off from each day in the Book by writing a sonnet about each day, themed to the Book's lesson each day...a fine conceit, I thought...and I took note of the Book, as Spenser lived in the period of the reign of Queen Elizabeth that I have been watching in Midnight Movies...movieseriesQueenElizabethI and movieQueenElizabeth...after Queen Mary dies, she was catholic, Queen Elizabeth, her sister, protestant, takes the throne, and re instates the Book Of Common Prayer as the new 'clip art book' of the new Church Of England...for this the Pope seeks to assassinate Elizabeth, and the King of Spain mounts the Spanish important are the differences between the ritual of the Catholics and upstart Protestants...all the religions have 'Books of Common Prayer''s where all the rituals come from, for birth, marriage, death, and all...what to say, what to wear, how to behave...they're the 'clip art books' I've been going on about...the Book of Common Prayer is in wide use, hardly changed, to this day...a curio is that Shakespeare borrowed from it...what didn't he!?...and back then it was the 'elephant in the room'...its every detail was fought over, to the death if need be...I left the pizza place thinking 'at least I'm not bound up with those college rituals anymore'...I wasn't very good at them...but I must pause and consider, that hereabout in the blog I am about just such...the sonnet form is highly ritualistic, and lent itself to the ritualistic thinking...obsessions!...of the nobility in the renaissance...rituals are still ever present...sports, politics, school!...most are so ingrained we hardly notice them...handshakes, standing for the national anthem...slight one and you'll get noticed...ask Trump, ask Pasternack!...watched Game of Thrones last night, and read a Washington Post review this went through the show like my old literature professors...pointing out themes and character developments...there's a scene where the fire breathing dragon is laying waste to a supply train of wagons, horses, soldiers, and the dragon is just beyond everyone's scope...only in legends had such been dreamed of...but there it was making useless swords and spears, armor and arrows...and a comment to the review author points out that warfare in the tale, like in our history, had been fought on its own terms for thousands of years, and was ritualistic...brb...


This is an episode about recognizing that someone or something is far more lethal than you think, and trying to adjust your worldview accordingly.

... ... ...

from comments:

The show is based primarily on medieval tactics, and it could be that fighting in the manner you described would not be the most "honorable" or "glorious" way to win a battle, and that was a thing back then. They had different standards when it came to battle, and the whole idea of two sides lining up and facing off head-to-head only recently came to an end in the 20th century. For ten thousand years, that's how battles were fought. It seems foolish now, but back then, valor, glory and honor were important to the warrior class, though many certainly lacked those qualities in other areas of their lives.  

--Shane D. Pringle


They used to sing back and forth at one another...anyway, I'm seeing a ritual now in every bush...the Book of Common Prayer at wiki's take is referred to as a 'script'...don't know but Hollywood's scriptwriters, and wannabes, are about the self same thing Elizabeth's were, making yet another Book...


As novelist P. D. James observed, "We can recognize the Prayer Book’s cadences in the works of Isaac Walton and John Bunyan, in the majestic phrases of John Milton, Sir Thomas Browne and Edward Gibbon. We can see its echo in the works of such very different writers as Daniel Defoe, Thackeray, the Brontës, Coleridge, T. S. Eliot and even Dorothy L. Sayers." (James 2011, p. 48) James herself used phrases from the Book of Common Prayer and made them into bestselling titles – Devices and Desires and The Children of Men – while Alfonso Cuarón's 2006 film Children of Men placed the phrase onto cinema marquees worldwide.


According to Cuarón, the title of P. D. James' book (The Children of Men) is a Catholic allegory derived from a passage of scripture in the Bible.[28] (Psalm 90 (89):3 of the KJV: "Thou turnest man to destruction; and sayest, Return, ye children of men.")



Amoretti LXXV: One Day I Wrote her Name
By Edmund Spenser 
One day I wrote her name upon the strand,
But came the waves and washed it away:
Again I wrote it with a second hand,
But came the tide, and made my pains his prey.
"Vain man," said she, "that dost in vain assay,
A mortal thing so to immortalize;
For I myself shall like to this decay,
And eke my name be wiped out likewise."
"Not so," (quod I) "let baser things devise
To die in dust, but you shall live by fame:
My verse your vertues rare shall eternize,
And in the heavens write your glorious name:
Where whenas death shall all the world subdue,
Our love shall live, and later life renew."

and Shakespeare's cover...


Sonnet 18: Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
By William Shakespeare 
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date;
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm'd;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st;
Nor shall death brag thou wander’st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st:
   So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
   So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.




Sunday, August 6, 2017

OTI:one poem and notes:8/6/17

Open To Interpretation

Oh leash to collar to waiting to soon sky:
My hand my dog my cat and robin red
Pulling an earthworm from its earthen lie.
Why their tugging should I hold back in dread?

My feet to day to night to night to day,
So planted I within sun moon earth spin,
What merit have I to argue their play,
I, grown every which way with your grin?

Everything beginning to endless
Wrought they have in a containment bound thought.
Flown loose away leaping running a guess
With luck I found you amidst all I sought.

If we must we must make things meet up high
Where dogs run cats leap birds with earthworms fly.




Friday, August 4, 2017

OTI:one poem and notes:8/4/17

Open To Interpretation
Oh, things I do and say are as common
As an everyday resting forgotten
Within the pool of an antique fountain;
My koi fish colors all but forsaken.

My wishes fade as coins uncollected,
These prayers of mine and yours unsuited
To fly up as birds; we are un-sainted,
Gathered as we are with the undaunted.

There's seldom a pause in their workaday,
No invitation to play comes our way
To sun ray a morning's overcast grey;
Not likely they hear our rhymes' neigh.

So, tell me cat wounded chirping for feed
In our common lay, what fare do we need?


Notes: ...while trying to rescue a cat stricken baby bird, the neighbors donated a bird cage...the bird's kind of 'kill them or feed them' once choosing to feed them, one is doomed to, then one night around midnight, I hear 'chirp chirp chirp' again and again, and go out to see, and two of the three cats have another cornered, a fledgling this time. and the cage was outside having been washed with the garden house, and it was simple...I put the sparrow in the cage and it is beginning to prosper with a taste for mealy, so, this morning I hear 'chirp chirp', and look to the sparrow, but its sitting quiet, and I say oh heck, and the same two cats are under the kitchen table with another fledgling...these poor things are leaving their nests only to be batted about by cats' now there's two in the convenient cage...and the chirping got into the poem!...I was diverted from writing sonnets at the was the only form I could grasp, and after writing like five, my poetry class instructor thought I had gone mad, and when I wrote something else in free verse, said, 'I thought you would never stop...'...perhaps he intuited that, having learned the old poets wrote sonnets in series, that I had had in mind not to stop until I'd written up a bunch!...I haven't forgotten that diversion, and now maybe I am back on that old track!...and now it is a track I can follow, insomuch that there is much on the web about sonnets...back at the outset, only library books were a source of study, unless one knew a sonneteer, and they were like I can study something out on the web that would take months tracking in the limited college library, which was paltry, for poetry, as all were back really know sonnets one would have to be a monomaniac back then, or enrolled in the most elite of colleges...mine was referred to as a 'teaching college', with an engineering bunch, the rest to the side, artists, athletes musicians, nearly know a college before you go, check the library to see if your interest is there...Palomar College in Escondido had rows and rows of art books...and just a two year community college...anyway, now on the web there are 'rows and rows' of commentary about sonnets, and the sonnets themselves...much fun this morning was googling 'famous sonnets'...earlier, 'ten best sonnets' commentary has it that the form itself, maybe more the Petracharn form than Shakespeare's, is related to the golden ratio, and brought to mind sacred geometry and a favorite book of mine, The Power of Limits, which Wordsworth put into a sonnet, one of his 500!...brb...


“Nuns Fret Not,” William Wordsworth (1807)
Nuns fret not at their convents’ narrow room;
And hermits are contented with their cells;
And students with their pensive citadels;
Maids at the wheel, the weaver at his loom,
Sit blithe and happy; bees that soar for bloom,
High as the highest Peak of Furness-fells,
Will murmur by the hour in foxglove bells:
In truth the prison, into which we doom
Ourselves, no prison is: and hence for me,
In sundry moods, ‘twas pastime to be bound
Within the Sonnet’s scanty plot of ground;
Pleased if some Souls (for such there needs must be)
Who have felt the weight of too much liberty,
should find brief solace there, as I have found. 
That site's title is: Chaos in Fourteen Lines by Annie Finch..brb...
The critic Paul Oppenheimer has observed that since the last two lines of a sonnet are often separated off from the rest in a couplet or an implied couplet that closes the poem, the proportions of the form are 6:8:12. And this proportion, in fact, represents the special mathematical ratio which the Greeks called the Golden Mean. 
A ratio found throughout nature, the Golden Mean is apparent in the proportions by which flower petals grow, twigs sprout from stems, and the shapes of snowflakes crystallize. It is also a ratio evident in the proportions of the human body.
same site...
I'm collecting formatting quoting, and kind of stuck!...The 'Chaos' in the title is likely a pun...on disorder in order, like fractal 'chaos theory'...sonnets are famous for puns...

another site is a treasure trove, and starts out with one of the earliest English sonnets, which is really good I think!, and a lead into much history...


Whoso list to hunt, I know where is an hind,
But as for me, hélas, I may no more.
The vain travail hath wearied me so sore,
I am of them that farthest cometh behind.
Yet may I by no means my wearied mind
Draw from the deer, but as she fleeth afore
Fainting I follow. I leave off therefore,
Since in a net I seek to hold the wind.
Who list her hunt, I put him out of doubt,
As well as I may spend his time in vain.
And graven with diamonds in letters plain
There is written, her fair neck round about:
Noli me tangere, for Caesar’s I am,
And wild for to hold, though I seem tame.

Sir Thomas Wyatt

Noli me tangere is Don't touch me


and one more from Wordsworth, which is a little guide for the history of sonnets...


Scorn not the Sonnet
Scorn not the Sonnet; Critic, you have frowned,
Mindless of its just honours; with this key
Shakespeare unlocked his heart; the melody
Of this small lute gave ease to Petrarch's wound;
A thousand times this pipe did Tasso sound;
With it Camöens soothed an exile's grief;
The Sonnet glittered a gay myrtle leaf
Amid the cypress with which Dante crowned
His visionary brow: a glow-worm lamp,
It cheered mild Spenser, called from Faery-land
To struggle through dark ways; and, when a damp
Fell round the path of Milton, in his hand
The Thing became a trumpet; whence he blew
Soul-animating strains—alas, too few!




Thursday, August 3, 2017

OTI:one poem and notes:8/3/17

Open To Interpretation

So, you have never been in the forest,
Forest Primeval, that was once my share?
Oh, I would that you would go meet its test.
I failed, maybe you will better fare.

This town is my home, I would never leave.
I know its streets and they know my wanders.
I need no challenge to what I perceive,
Nor am I about to seek your wonders.

What I once had is what you could now hold.
All I now know is all you once too knew.
All you reach is this? This is nothing bold.
So?  Just so I propose to know of you.

One can become lost on a city walk
Challenging rootedness with forest talk.

Wednesday, August 2, 2017

OTI:one poem and notes:8/2/17

Open To Interpretation
Wave Riders

I'm glad of it to see your skills displayed,
A wonder far beyond my own thunder,
These narrowed efforts I have shyly made.
So much wider a sky you glide over.

Beauty and Courage dancing up balanced,
While nearly submerged my thought my feeling
Appropriately clumsy, un-nuanced;
You mounted ride so smoothly galloping.

My craft stays shallow, with sluggish paddles
I endeavor to stay out of your way
Least we both flounder in these close battles;
I strive not ever to upturn your play.

Not to say that for some moments do I
So too rise up and bring ashore the sky.


Notes:...some thunder and rain this afternoon...ate watermelon on the front step and watched...MidnightMovies...movieKingsmanSecretService2014...another movie length music video...songs unfamiliar to me, and just as well, as the scenes they accompanied I'd like to shake loose from long as these films make the big bucks, the over the top depicted violence continues...and no point being repetitive repetitive pointing such out!...keep seeing previews of the new Kingsman, and thought to catch up...some of the scenes, like the slicing and dicing, and the fireworks exploding heads, are clearly inspired by the filters available to the digital the tvseriesElizabethI2005 the inspiration for horror is more old fashioned...the doings in Elizabethan dungeons and executions...which the animators have nothing on...oh, I made a random selection of Emily Dickinson--656...for someone who is said to have never seen the ocean...she knew the ocean!...some of 656 in Wave Riders...


I started Early – Took my Dog –
And visited the Sea –
The Mermaids in the Basement
Came out to look at me –

And Frigates – in the Upper Floor
Extended Hempen Hands
Presuming Me to be a Mouse –
Aground – opon the Sands –

But no Man moved Me – till the Tide
Went past my simple Shoe –
And past my Apron – and my Belt
And past my Boddice – too –

And made as He would eat me up –
As wholly as a Dew
Opon a Dandelion's Sleeve –
And then – I started – too –

And He – He followed – close behind –
I felt His Silver Heel
Opon my Ancle – Then My Shoes
Would overflow with Pearl –

Until We met the Solid Town –
No One He seemed to know –
And bowing – with a Mighty look –
At me – The Sea withdrew –
Emily Dickinson

Monday, July 31, 2017

OTI:one poem and notes:7/31/17

Open To Interpretation
Glass Ware

The still molten dragons said, "We're real!"
And flew to rest cooling upon glass shelves.
Frugal parents examine the deal--
Startle away their children's dreaming selves.

I thought, 'These things of glass too much aware!'
One with red horns and red wings flying near
With a ruby on a chain, says, "This share
With just that one you are holding most dear."

Inside their glass globes by their thatched homes' doors,
Villagers waving, hellos or warnings?
"These dragons that wait on these tiered glass floors
Will rise inviting your love lorn musings!"

In this crystal shop we shuffle with care,
Warning children not to break the glass ware.


Notes:  The Crystal Shop in the Park was where I did my first nightly stint in the workaday world...a summer position after high school...the task: buffing the floor with one of those easily wanton buffing machines...needless to say I was admonished not to crash into things...I must have appeared a klutz as next night I was put on fire hose duty, dragging them about as the nozzle holder washed down the walkways...failing at that, the next night I was put to polishing the brass poles on King Arthur's carousel...the morning of that night, I told my boss, 'I'm going to college, and I'd rather not'...and he thanked me for my forthrightness...a week or so later, a letter came saying I was accepted to work at the Pavilion, one of the, heck, I thought, that's what I wanted all along...I'd been hurried into the night job by someone who knew someone, and they had tried to help me out when I told them I'd applied at the Park...that graveyard isolation had given me pause...and leaving off had scotched the other opportunity...hmmph...but things worked out...later at the Park I was a happy clam driving forklifts and trucks...and later later, in the Valley working at Last Chance!, so yesterday I rolled over to the Park to look for a glass ball to use for crystal balls in the Magic Shop, which I find intellectually imposing...and none in the Crystal Shop that has shrunk down to a wisp of its former self...time was there was a pickle barrel there, and grab bag barrel, which we always grabbed from--inexpensive as they were...oh, and the glass artist with the torch is gone...and only a few glass critters on display yesterday...the dragons were really tiny, like half a thumb high...and it was Minnie by her thatched house waving inside a snow globe with no was too hot to walk about much, and having seen to my errand, I had tea and croissant in one of the Pavilions, and made my circuitous way back to the parking lot, and rolled over to Regal, and air conditioning to see's not a's a movie length music video...old songs from eighties mashed together...Major Tom, and 99 Luft Balloons, in German, being the favorites anyway...Charleze Feron in Wonder Woman grunge one review has it...typical cold war spy story with atypical music and doings...Charleze love interest, Sofia Boutella, an up and coming WW break dancer breaking bones and such, though not enough of Tom Cruise's in The Mummy...