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.

DolphinWords

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 restaurants...aw, 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, so yesterday I rolled over to the Park to look for a glass ball to use for photography...no 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 snow...it 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 movieAtomicBlond2017....wth...it's not a movie...it's a movie length music video...old songs from eighties mashed together...Major Tom, and 99 Luft Balloons, in German, being the standouts...my favorites anyway...Charleze Feron in Wonder Woman grunge mode...so 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...

:)

DavidDavid

Saturday, July 29, 2017

OTI:two poems and notes:7/29/17

Open To Interpretation

Crystal Balls

Oh, for these I need Elizabethans,
All of you to be as street wise groundlings,
William's unruly Globe's earthen floor fans,
A few of you candidates for hangings

From the balcony listening as dead
Moths in dusty cobwebs spider woven.
Attention!  Not some troll's sleep is needed
To catch understanding of their coven.

We will look into these clear crystal balls,
Things seemingly upside down suspended,
Spin gravity's profound before all falls
And our little round town all upended.

When on the stage all is bloody slaughter,
That crowd perforce finds rollicking laughter.

Nonsense
 
Even our worst nonsense has some sweet sense,
Our nothing our something, our not be, be,
Our tomorrow today, yesterday's fence.
Forgotten, remembered, we somehow see.

Interrogated unintelligence
To our arch enemies is always shown
Nary a loose word or unwary sentence.
To our dearest friends we are always known.

We browse between hard truth and easy lies,
Skittish as deer interrupted at play
When cockroaches they come creeping as spies.
They scurry away if we step their way.

When nothing is here, and nothing is there,
Truth stays filled empty with nothing to fear.

DolphinWords

Notes:..(update:'To out dearest'...to...'To our dearest'...didn't catch that for awhile in my mantra reviews...'our' was original, and the error cast an unfortunate inference...hmmph...a debate if I should work 'out' in, as in "To out dearest friends we are an unknown"...or something...or..."To our dearest friends we are an unknown."...lines are mercurial, protean!)...I..I could likely explain these if I understood them myself!...which is kind of what they're about...especially Nonsense...poems have this trait of being sensible and insensible at the same time!...even when we think we have their meaning, they can elude us!...I took note on seeing some crystal ball photos that those ball lenses might be something for the upcoming eclipse...maybe, I thought, one could sight on the upside down reflection in the ball with a camera, and not be concerned about the sun's brightness...and so make a steady clip of the whole thing...so I thought to roll over to the Park and get one at the Crystal Shop, or maybe the Magic Shop...but it's too hot to go anywhere...so browsed amazon, and found one that all the reviews rave about, and took note that these balls come with a warning...don't put them out under direct sunlight...they can act like a magnifying glass and start a fire!...hmmph...so much for my flight of fancy...which is still aloft...thought to use a round fish bowl...maybe I could darken the water...I was just gone on playing WoW, World of Warcraft, for awhile...hours and hours grinding out quests and such with my toons...not so gone as some...and it just came to me, that my internet browses and posts are the self same thing...hours and hours just gone...and it's hard to leave off, as one feels one will be left behind...and so doomed to go on!...I think the Globe had an 'earthen' floor...brb....

quote

The pit has a concrete surface,[15] as opposed to earthen-ground covered with strewn rush from the original theatre.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shakespeare%27s_Globe

unquote

and a curio, to me!, is that over all the Globe was a hexagon...see!...this is what happens playing WoW too...one is continually diverted..and what is a marvel, is the game makers, the wiki posters, must live and breath these things!...oh, while waiting at the Laundromat, a cockroach approached...thought to squash it, but just pushed my foot its way, and it ran back under the wall whence it came...and I went back to poking at my iphone notepad, thinking, that kind of fits...the Globe could hold three thousand people...making it about the size of a large high school gym!

:)

DavidDavid

Friday, July 28, 2017

OTI:one poem:7/28/17

Open To Interpretation

Prayer Beads

Oh, it's my duty, my mantra, you know,
Daily hour minute second prayers.
Everything us they so often show
Infusing us so many woes and cares.

You're okay?  Sure.  Sure?  I see your concern.
I've drifted off into my worry beads
These dreadlocks hanging from my brain I turn
These small voices pressing downwards their needs.

My dog has fleas.  There is a war overseas. 
Tomorrow has fees.  Are we forever...
Ouch!  My sensitive beads you laughing tease,
Smiling at my iterative fever.

Who can remember the prayer we nursed
Before in all these others we were versed?

DolphinWords

:)

DavidDavid

OTI:two poems and notes:7/28/17

Open To Interpretation
 
Dog

What?  Again too full the ferry has left?
Here again on the stranded shore to wait.
Come here, Cerberus, we are friends bereft,
Your master too busy to walk your fate;

Mine is elsewhere and nowhere to be found.
Sit!  I see your collars, somewhere your leash.
I'll walk the walk with this three headed hound,
And make these fallen leaves wind feared rustle, 'sheesh...'

You all have a coin? Most bring too many,
And leave them with me.  No, I do not know. 
Whatever is over there is mystery.
Tomorrow is always another show.

Between the wires in No Man's Land dread,
Dog and I walk by with not one thing said.



Deal
 
Even for Hephaestus,
The Automaton adventure had been too much.
Learning has a hangover.
And the dread Petra had felt
Now became manifest
As before Nemo again
The crews gathered to hear his newest request.
"The Hexagons and Pentagons
Are imperiled on their far away world."
Said Nemo.
"Pardon our hesitation,"
Said Petra,
"Nemo Of Science,
But from your last rescue,
We all returned Technologicals.
"So?"
Said Nemo with a shrug.
"So."
Said Petra,
"We are Biologicals."
"Your hands are still hands,"
Not Mechanicals."
Said Nemo.
Hephaestus looked at his hand
That Pet had crushed. 
He had made a prosthetic aid for it,
And tucked it behind him.
"Nemo,
Who Knows Everything,"
Said Petra,
Walking up to Nemo,
Face to face,
Her arms akimbo, 
"You can be forgotten!"
With that the crews
And their Black Dragons
Roared.
"To help the Pentagons and Hexagons,"
Said Nemo,
"Requires a BlackSpace Ship Captain.
And they are as finicky as Black Ships.
Only a Queen or a Princess will do."
Said Nemo.
"Petra, I need your interest,
Your curiosity;
Without your imagination
Black Ships don't sail,
Nor BlackSpace Ships."
"Sail where again?"
Said Petra,
"To another Technological tainted sea?"
Hephaestus approached
Black Dragon Pet beside Petra
And held out his hand.
"I forgot what this meant."
Said Hephaestus,
"What I fashioned for Greeks,
Greeks fashioned for themselves.
Remind me Pet,
Crush it again."
In a blink that was done
As Pet obliged.
And Hephaestus winced
With some regret.
"Truth is truth." Said Hephaestus.
"In short."
Said Petra,
And turned to Nemo, and said,
"Nemo Of So Many Trades,
We won't go."
"Not even to another star?"
Said Nemo
"What is there is there's
What is here is here's."
Said Petra.
Out in the Bay
The Island that is a
BlackSpace Ship
Began to stir.
"I promise,"
Said Nemo,
"No more Automatons,
No more Technologicals.
The Hexagons and Pentagons
Are Biologicals."
The Island That Is A Ship
Was phosphorescing,
Dark clouds gathering.
From the docked Black Ships
The Ravens and Gulls flew up
From the riggings into flocks.
Petra hopped up astride
Black Dragon Pet
And looked down at Nemo.
"Hold out your hand, 
Trader Of Worlds."
Said Petra.
Nemo thought long, hesitated,
Regarded Pet. 
Then held out his hand.
Petra reached down and shook it.
"Deal."
Said Petra,
And said to the Black Dragons,
"Dragons! 
Take us to that Island,
That BlackSpace Ship
Preparing to gallop."

DolphinWords

Notes: 'Dog'...reference the River Styx...the ferryboat and the ferryman...bit vague who the persona is in the poem...and grim I thought, and with no note to go with it, but I noted it in reference to the movieDunkirk2017 previews I keep seeing, so rolled over to Regal Dunkirk!...the Greek's conceit of the River Styx has an undertone, if one considers the space between squared off contestants...the battle zone...No Man's Land, the desolation between the opposing trenches, was in a way, a River Styx streaming from Belgium to Switzerland...each side seeking to cross...Dunkirk really dotes on the long wide beaches thereabout...I suppose it is a 'true to life' movie, but the sound track isn't, and so over the top loud, and Vangellis again from Blade Runner...each movement of a ship, or plane, or drowning solider, paired with a sound, usually sticcatto violins!...it's silly, skip it...go see Valerian...your welcome...'Deal'...straight ahead Black Deck Tales...maybe the end of Book 4...whole thing I have now like a too big glob of dough on the breadboard...need to work up things into their loafs...OCPC has found another venue...The Gypsy Den, where I went to hear the open mic guitarists...Tuesday seven to nine the time...oh, along with being lame, Hephaestus isn't very tall...and yes, a lift from Game of Thrones...ral...Dragon Queens are Dragon Queens, there, or here...

:)

DavidDavid

Tuesday, July 25, 2017

OTI:one poem and notes:7/25/17

Open To Interpretation

Hexagons

Does nothing have your curiosity?
Designs have their Grand Divine designer.
I'm a detective with a mystery:
I'm a puzzle without a puzzler.

For you, evidence of love I present.
I already have some, you always say.
And with that hint, I'm put on the hot scent,
And before you my gift verses array.

It's your perfume, you know, your pheromone
That I followed along to your glass doors.
Like a pack of hounds my gifts howl, sweet moan,
Always losing you upon these dark moors.

To the bees their hexagons always sweet,
Filled with golden proofs, their Queen's entreat.

DolphinWords

Notes: oh, an edit update: I hadn't had the syllables counted in some lines...fixed...and I thought the last two lines very weak, unrelated...until...

quote

Benzene, the simplest aromatic compound with hexagonal shape.

unquote

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hexagon

hmmph...benzene, very toxic, but safely encased in compounds, is the basis in many perfumes and pheromones...something to do with its six sidedness...and...

quote

I made a garland for her head,
       And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;
She looked at me as she did love,
       And made sweet moan
 
John Keats
 
 
unquote

MidnightMovie: "and it's another dystopian tale with Prometheus take"...from yesterday's note on movieWarForThePlanetOf The Apes2017...I keep seeing previews of movieBladeRunner20492017, and so thought I better watch movieBladeRunner20191982...hmmph...one would think that with sci fi authors meticulousness, they'd get the technological developments plausibly chronological...but what the heck, now everything is parallel universes or hologram decks or hallucinations, dreams, etc., so anything is plausible...but that is supposed to be the hallmark of 'hard' science fiction...see Hal Clement...anyway...I thought to watch the old Blade Runner so I wouldn't fall in the plot holes of the new Blade Runner!...and I can't recall seeing it before...are all these dystopian movies with Prometheus takes covers of Blade Runner!!??...back when this was made there were serial killers on the loose in the news, and the movies had that grunge...I think I have that word right...brb...yep, and together with film noir, there you have it...the music by Vangells a curio!...one is hopeful of movieChariotsOfFire1981 slowmo!...but the soundtrack backs the movie much as movieForbiddenPlanet1956's...I bought the collector's edition of that with Robi...it's still in the box unopened...that too, is a dystopian world...the Krell's worlds!...Mary Shelly, what have you wrought!...setting things far enough in the future for them to be plausible is such a simple thing...I mean, Star Wars is set in a another galaxy, far far away...what better way to avoid getting overrun by reality!...one of the most woefully plausible dystopian tales I ever came across was bookArmageddon 2419 A.D1928...at the time I read it I was studying out the Rainbow War Plans, and it looked to be full of self similar conjectures!...hmmph...Buck Roger's stuff...

quote

Writing a science fiction story is fun, not work. ...the fun...lies in treating the whole thing as a game.... [T]he rules must be quite simple. They are; for the reader of a science-fiction story, they consist of finding as many as possible of the author's statements or implications which conflict with the facts as science currently understands them. For the author, the rule is to make as few such slips as he possibly can... Certain exceptions are made [e.g., to allow travel faster than the speed of light], but fair play demands that all such matters be mentioned as early as possible in the story...

Hal Clement

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hal_Clement

unquote

:)

DavidDavid

Monday, July 24, 2017

OTI:one poem and notes:7/24/17

Open To Interpretation
 
Near Here

So, I look about to see the deejay
I hear, but the microphone is empty.
Hmmph, all those imprecations canned, I'd say.
'And what else?' I think dismayed. 'Oh, plenty!'

I relax, my feet up, with my popcorn,
And watch my movie, and my movie me.
And there right before me, where stars are born,
Everything is, or not to be, maybe.

Oh, deep sigh for things said and unsaid, said
Forwards and backwards and around around,
Un-recorded recorded: fate reworded.
Only maybe here, something sometimes found.

Come near, Destiny, I'll whisper my name:
Blue Sky. Don't tell. You, I, are just the same.

DolphinWords

Notes: well, I borrowed some of the spirit of the back and forth dialog between Valerian and Lauriline in movieValerianCityOfAThousandPlanets2017...not much, but enough to credit...rolled out this evening to Regal and saw movieWarForThePlanetOfTheApes2017...I saw a few of the first in this saga, but I missed some, so was falling in plot holes...and it's another dystopian tale with Prometheus take...audience was small, and cheered on the apes!...what does that portend?...took note yesterday of CNN news reporting on the operational lazer cannon deployed on a ship in the Persian Gulf...cannon is the wrong word for it...it doesn't make any noise, you can't see the beam, the target instantaneously heats up from the photons...I gather it's been around awhile, so something everyone is noting is the announcement...what does that portend?...in the opening of movie Valerian, it has a critiically acclaimed vignette...with song Major Tom playing, the first one...they could have used STG's!...space capsule passengers after a docking in space meet one another and shake hands, three on a side...first, Americans and Russians, then the Chinese are added, then from many countries on Earth as they develop and send up astronauts to meet and greet too...the handshakes always the central motif...then the aliens begin arriving from far away worlds, three at time, and the handshaking becomes problematic!...it's very well done...in fact, all the vignettes in the film are well done, but they go by so quick, one misses their import...and there is a counterpart import if one pictures the history of weapon technology...first are fists, then we pick up stones, then sticks, clubs, spears, adding stone projectile points, then bronze weapons, iron weapons, and gunpowder weapons, and nuclear weapons...at each juncture, there must have been a sigh of dismay, as at each juncture the weapons became more deadly...lazer weapons have been a part of science fiction story telling for so long, that everyone is kind of blauze, I think, over the news that now they really do exist...I myself was much stricken on seeing how it worked...my over zealous imagination being such...I wont elaborate on what I think this thing can do...oh, but I did make a poem draft...tried to work it into a sonnet, but it was resisting!...and I think I'll just leave it in it's rough draft form...apologies to CNN and Wolf Blitzer!...

Wolf On The Cannon

draft 1
Ah now there is a cannon
That neither smokes nor booms
Some invisible shell explodes
Or not hot  or not somewhat like the mixing valves on your shower.
Most likely much too hot, otherwise
Why bother.
And you'll not know from which direction it came this tidy photon stream that un-tames your skins set afire in wild fire hosing
And how cool comported the targeting observers like serene apocalyptic avenging angels
As close to you as now or as far away as tomorrow or yesterday
Just so you won't know the time
Zone of your Judgement Day.
You may only loose a tooth
Or an eye, but most likely
You and yours will all away
In a blink un-perceived.

In truth this canon is nothing new
And where's the storied fun in instant oblivion?
 
 
draft2
Wolf On The Cannon

now there is a cannon that neither smokes
nor booms.  An Invisibly hot tinned fork now looms.

And you'll not know from which direction it came this tidy photon stream that untames your skins set aflame in wild fire hosing
And how cool comported the targeting observers like serene apocalyptic avenging angels
As close to you as now or as far away as tomorrow or yesterday
Just so you won't know the time
Zone from whence came your judgement day.
You may only loose a tooth
Or an eye, but most likely
You and yours will all away
In a blink un perceived.

In truth, nothing new, this quiet cannon
where's the story in instant oblivion?

I can retreat from this, reporting all this,
Which is only to say I don't know what this is
What this is is,
Soon we will all live like doomed to fry ants
Pick up your burdens,
Salute one another's passings
sisters and brethren

I can retreat from reporting all this,
Which is to say I don't know what this is
Except say it will end humanity's bliss,
As soon we will all live ruled by this new whiz.

ral...reviewing I'm tempted to work it up...what I could do with 'blitz' blitzer'!...
:)

DavidDavid

Sunday, July 23, 2017

OTI:one poem and notes:7/23/17(2nd)

Open To Interpretation
 
City Of A Thousand Sub Plots

So, dearest, run, hold on to me near, close,
And will pull through this similitude's dreams
Just as arm in arm with Jesus we rose
To sing hymns louder than terrible screams.

So, Destiny, a virtuous life won
I seek, and dispatch these common fel brothers,
And offer love to you, my dearest one,
My sweetest, instead of all those others.

Blue Sky, hero of the silvery screen,
Goes on and on to critics' amazements.
Millions are spent, the gate receipts too lean,
A sorrow worse than spurned lovers' laments.

Meanwhile, we'll casually frequently date,
Beset by ranting creatures harboring hate.

DolphinWords

Notes: (update: fell to fel...hmmph...couldn't reference 'fel' so couldn't use it...it's not in the dictionary...a term from WoW, World of Warcraft, for evil green stuff that gets into characters and makes them so...used 'fell' as it worked, sorta...now fel, which works, sorta)...maybe some tongue in cheek self parody!...it came to mind that movieValerianCityOfAThousandPlanets2017 is a 'pilgrims' progress'...I was watching a youTube review and the reviewer noted that there were too many sub plots too loosely joined together...and I took excpetion!...no, I thought, each subplot is an allegory!....the Market in another dimension is Vanity Fair...the two-eyes-on-stalks emperor about to sushi snack on Laureline's brain, with a squeeze of lemon, is Gluttony...is the film a cover, a mash up with John Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress?...I likely only read a bit of Bunyan in our literature class's anthology text, but I've seen so many stories derived from it that I likely know it all very well!...and it its self is likely derived from earlier works, notably bookTheGoldenAssbyApuleius...I've tried not to allegorize my own things...but it kind of just happens...consider the opening dream episode of the movie, and this:

The Pilgrim's Progress from this World to that which is to come
Delivered under the similitudes of a dream wherein is discovered his setting out, his dangerous journey, his safe arrival at the desired country.

quote from title page of John Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress...

just below that on the page is reference to Hosea 12:10,

" I have also spoken by the prophets, and I have multiplied visions, and used similitudes, by the ministry of the prophets."

hmmph...Kahlil Gibran's book The Prophet has been in the mix, and it too I find is an allegorical Pilgrim's Progress ...and Salma Hayek transformed it into an animated movie, movieTheProphet2014, for 12 million, and it took in just one million...but Gibran's book started modestly, as did Bunyan's, but both went on to be among the top in popularity, both still in print...so, Critics be damned, I found movie Valerian delightful!

:)

DavidDavid

 

OTI:one poem and notes:7/23/17

Open To Interpretation
 
Turtle Island
 
A stationary spinning desert place,
A turtled island with a single palm;
Musical waves carry the dolphins' grace,
Swimming by to the Star's, the Moon's, slow psalm.

Our ears can mend from raucous loud sounds lashed
Though they will ring constant awhile after
From cymbals and drumming that sang banged crashed
Our undersides with upended laughter.

Our tiny flappers print the morning sand,
Always maybe the seagulls' darts find us,
Interrupt our scrambling rush to wet land,
A startle some moment with panicked fuss.

Is there so much to know we fold legs in,
Never to explore, adventure again?

DolphinWords

Notes: one can play cat's cradle by ones self, I recall reading...brb...watched a youTube..."cat's cradle solo"....so yes....and this afternoon it got into my head to think of each quatrain stanza as a cat's cradle design...begin with a 'loop of string', a conceit, and with the iambic pentameter, and the rhyme, give it a design...then on to the next, improvising another new design that somehow reinterprets the first...or something...jazz musicians do this when one player improvises a riff with their instrument, then another with theirs, and so on...and that works!...imagining things like string interlaced from one hand's fingers to another's helped!...it makes a game of things...and meter and rhymed poetry is, famously, thought to be game like...

quote

Writing free verse is like playing tennis with the net down.--Robert Frost

unquote

reference Turtle Island...Gary Snyder has 'covers' of the term...too...reference movieRocky1976...we've all had pet turtle habitats...too, reference movieValerianAndTheCityOfAThousandPlanets2017!...I rolled over to AMC this evening to see it...much fun!...and much lifted from movieAvatar2009...a continued lifted cat's cradle design!...with lifts from Alice in Wonderland too to be sure!...

quote

For today to have a future,
You must make peace with the past.--the tall thin alien in Valerian

unquote

hmmph...bit envious of that aphorism!...oh, I thought of one today...

If by my example, you do, or don't do,
Then everything I do
Must be in regards of you.

and that fits the movie!...consider Bubble and the playlist...maybe should be regard...leave off the 's'...or find a synonym!

:)

DavidDavid





 

Saturday, July 22, 2017

OTI:one poem and notes:7/22/17

Open To Interpretation
 
Cat's Cradle

Words become rounded and worn seashell lore,
Mollusk abandoned, spun end on end
In the wave stirred migrating sandy shore
Surf scalloped beaches' aggregated  blend.

Sparrow's aphoristic tweets fall to the
Philosophers' metaphorical mill,
Their bothering legalistic briefs a
Storied grist for hungry gullets to fill.

And Love's sweet nothings' eternal refrain,
Beneath the moon, the stars, a palm tree's sway,
Upends this revolving world's daily gain,
Sings to two handed mimes who once were clay.

Collected labeled pristine seashells rest
In closed dark drawers with the sparrow's nest.

DolphinWords

Notes: there are a lot of Emily Dickinson sites...a lot...and I happened on one that listed the 'ten best poems'...brb...

quote

Emily Dickinson did not leave any poetics or treatise to explain her life’s work, so we can come to her poetry with minds and hearts open, and unearth whatever it is we need to find.

https://www.publishersweekly.com/pw/by-topic/industry-news/tip-sheet/article/67591-the-10-best-emily-dickinson-poems.html

unquote

hmmph...in other words, she left no notes...and her poems in essays are often referred to as 'aphoristic'...not knowing what aphoristic is, I looked it up...oh, I have been all this over a week ago...and an aphoristic quote Kahil Gibran has is like one of mine, in so many words...not that I knew mine was an aphorism!...brb...

quote

"Today is now
Borrowed from yesterday
To be lent tomorrow."==The Talking Plank
http://treeinthedoorvideo.blogspot.com/2017/06/otitwo-poems-and-notesl62717.html

unquote

quote

Yesterday is but today's memory,
and tomorrow is today's dream.-- Khalil Gibran
Read more at: https://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/k/khalilgibr163761.html

unquote

and I found the famous aphorism about the fall of a sparrow, after I wrote up an aphorism that went...I can't recall!...it got lost in editing the above, as I made the above poem from a handful of aphorisms I made, the title was one (since changed--see below)..."I could be a Hindu in a moment"...oh, I should have saved them...anyway, the Hindu one came about because the aphorism look up led to the aphorisms in history, notably the ones from India...they took things to the extreme...the Vedas...this I didn't know, the Vedas are apparently aphorisms with commentary...the commentary being called...brb...

quote

Bhashya (Sanskrit: भाष्य) is a "commentary" or "exposition" of any primary or secondary text in ancient or medieval Indian literature.[1] Common in Sanskrit literature, Bhasya is also found in other Indian languages. Bhashya are found in various fields, ranging from the Upanishads to the Sutras of Hindu schools of philosophy, from ancient medicine to music.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bhashya

unquote

and the aphorisms are called:

quote

Sutra (IAST: sūtra सूत्र) is a Sanskrit word that means "string" or "thread".[1] In Indian literary traditions, it also refers to an aphorism or a collection of aphorisms in the form of a manual or, more broadly, a condensed manual or text.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sutra

unquote

incidentally, there is something between sutra and bashya...

quote

Shloka (meaning "song", from the root śru, "hear"[1]) is a category of verse line developed from the Vedic Anustubh poetic meter. It is the basis for Indian epic verse, and may be considered the Indian verse form par excellence, occurring, as it does, far more frequently than any other meter in classical Sanskrit poetry.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shloka

unquote

in other words: a sonnet's envoy, the last two lines, is an aphorism, a sutra; the sonnet as a whole is a poem, a shloka; and the realm of the scholars, the bashya...I'm not sure how far back this all dates, but it looks like 400BC, with suspicions it all goes back to before the Ice Age...iambic pentameter is the English verse form 'par excellence' ...this, this arrangement, is common all over the world...the memorized oral tradition of the Veda's maybe the most notable...it has been passed down orally, memorized forwards and backwards!, with the same meticulous care the Jewish Torah is carefully hand transcribed one edition to the next...brb...

quote

The real core texts of the religion that exist today are the hymns known as qawls; they have also been orally transmitted during most of their history, but are now being collected with the assent of the community, effectively transforming Yazidism into a scriptural religion.[78] The qawls are full of cryptic allusions and usually need to be accompanied by čirōks or 'stories' that explain their context.[

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yazidis

unquote

It's of interest I think that the word 'sutra' relates to weaving terms...threads and needles...the whole tradition to warp and weft/woof...if one thinks of a sonnet represented in fabric, one can see the sutra/sutures, the stitches, da dum da dum da dum da dum da dum...at the lines end is a rhyme which turns things back after a fashion...maybe...like warp and woof...oh it's certain...writing didn't begin on paper or papyrus or animal skins...it was on fabric...on/in clothes...along with illustrated vignettes...now all lost like the Greek's encaustic paintings...and lost like the meanings of the Inca's fabrics...the number counting Quipo knots hint that stories in words could be recorded too...brb...

quote

The Rosary (pronunciation: /ˈrəʊz(ə)ri/, Latin: rosarium, in the sense of "crown of roses" or "garland of roses"[1]), usually in the form of the Dominican Rosary,[2][3] is a form of prayer used especially in the Catholic Church named for the string of knots or beads used to count the component prayers.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rosary

unquote

Buddhist prayer beads or malas (Sanskrit: mālā "garland"[1]) are a traditional tool used to count the number of times a mantra is recited, breaths while meditating, counting prostrations, or the repetitions of a buddha's name. They are similar to other forms of prayer beads used in various world religions and therefore the term "Buddhist rosary" also appears.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Buddhist_prayer_beads

unquote

Quipus, also known as khipus or talking knots,[1] were recording devices historically used in a number of cultures and particularly in the region of Andean South America.[2] Similar systems were used by the ancient Chinese and native Hawaiians

Quipos

Chinese knotting

Rugs

Oldest Carpet
quote

Cat's cradle is a series of string figures created between two (or more) people as a game. The name of the entire game, the specific figures, their order, and the names of the figures vary. Versions of this game have been found in indigenous cultures throughout the world—from the polar regions to the Equatorial zones.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cat%27s_cradle

unquote

hmmph...happening on cat's cradle, I just made a major edit!...previous title was "I could be a Hindu in a moment"...and changed "Sings to two mime statues..." to " Sings to two handed mimes..."..."Before ice age"...BIA...I have in mind a Before Ice Age clip art book...or 'kit'...some additions: Cat's Cradles are in it...Ochre Crayons are in it...related to the crayons is the air brush like cave artistries...pigments blown through a hollow reed or some such, or I gather, just pigments blown from one's mouth to make those handprint stencils...comes to mind I've seen like handprints on Native American horses, and teepees..

quote

The red handprint stands for death of an enemy or stained hands from war; used by many different tribes.

http://horsesoftheearth.wikifoundry.com/page/Indain+Horse+Markings

unquote

a remarkable thing is that when the Europeans arrived in North America they arrived in the midst of Stone Age cultures with 'kits', 'clip art books', pre-dating the last Ice Age...they continue...in Australia they continue..

quote

Many researchers have suggested the oldest paintings include depictions of long extinct animals but we can never be absolutely sure of this. Used pieces of ochre, “crayons”, are found in the lowest levels and throughout excavated rock shelter floor deposits in Australia.

http://theconversation.com/40-000-year-old-rock-art-found-in-indonesia-32674

unquote

I thought that charming as I had just used the words 'ochre' and 'crayon' in poem Salem


... ... ...
"Rosy fingered Dawn takes up her crayons"
...
"Red ochre filled reeds we trumpeted through
Until our handprint flared outlines found you."
 
:)
 
DavidDavid
 


















 

Thursday, July 20, 2017

OTI:one poem and notes:7/20/17

Open To Interpretation
 
Wealth

Here they come and I my sleepiness feign.
Conjoined they are I hear forever near.
My door cannot comport their worldly reign.
What wealth they have!  I have nothing to fear.

Forever's a long time with one rhyme scheme,
I know, I have my own each time I pass
Through these nightly glass doors to your regime.
Some nights, I, admitting remiss, send this:

A flirtatious hint to you: "Take my hand
And descend with me my rhymes' loosened steps,
And sit with me along the sea's long strand,
Share lunch, least we be thought fasting adepts."

I have you you have I, our selves' plenty
With this wild blue sea's endless bounty.

DolphinWords

Notes: not the first time I've gone off on salesmen at the door...I ignore them, I abhor them...terrible rude I think to invade one's privacy with trade...and yet, here I'm about maybe something not much different...I try to soften the knock knock knock...no ads here, no eye twisting meme slogans there...'here' being the blog, 'there' being the link on facebook...actually, most time that link doesn't link, or links so briefly, that I'm in the clear...but for those who do find here, my apologies for the trading!...anyway, a normal day without a thing, until they knocked while I was studying out Emily Dickenson's poem 22...having learnt that Shakespeare's sonnets can be web conjured by just googling 'sonnet (pick a number 1-....brb...154)',  I thought to conjure 'Emily Dickenson poem 22'...and that works!...I think Emily has like...brb...1775, 1789, it varies, poems...wiki has the first lines listed, so one could too text search...the Bible of course has this...and along with the texts are the exegesis...which I find problematic...too much the preacher reading out, lowering the text, and going on and on..."Papa don't preach!"--Madonnna...but when things are too culturally distant, drifted away as languages change, or just too damned James Joyce like, I look for help...apparently, poem 22 is about the constraints of 19th century woman hood, which are the same stretching back to Adam, and still persist in most of the world...arranged marriages, narrow limitations...a male dominated culture...so, there I was with poem 22, and the Lord's own at the door, and I just went off, on and on!...it didn't all happen quite like that, but in essence...in truth I do traders a favor by not answering the door...a courtesy I'm likely given my own self often...I'm just going to say no, anyway, too!...

"I gave myself to him"

I gave myself to Him—
And took Himself, for Pay,
The solemn contract of a Life
Was ratified, this way—

The Wealth might disappoint—
Myself a poorer prove
Than this great Purchaser suspect,
The Daily Own—of Love

Depreciate the Vision—
But till the Merchant buy—
Still Fable—in the Isles of Spice—
The subtle Cargoes—lie—

At least—'tis Mutual—Risk—
Some—found it—Mutual Gain—
Sweet Debt of Life—Each Night to owe—
Insolvent—every Noon—

Emily Dickenson

https://hubpages.com/literature/Emily-Dickinsons-Poetry

That web page includes the dashes, and other idiosyncrasies...since I have such my own self, I understand them...when they are included!...fie on those who grammatically delete them!...here's the beginning draft of Wealth...

draft
They come upon my door and I feign my sleepiness
Conjoined they are I hear forever near
That's a long time to walk with one rhyme

Scheme I know I have my own
Each night I wander through
Your black glass doors
Some nights this, I admit remiss,
A flirtatious hint to take my hand
And walk my paths step by step,
My rhymes to rhymes loose steps.

Oh even while you say no and no
I continue another cast
Different from the last
Your no lass to be hooked fast
So we have this ever patient fast
And I bring some lunch to
Share with you upon this creek's long bench
We're always hungry, isn't it a funny something?
And can always share this repast
Rather than some dour nothing.

Sea has fish, sky has birds
In all their variety
I have you you have I
And lowly love's society.

Wealth


:)

DavidDavid
 

Wednesday, July 19, 2017

OTI:one poem and notes:7/19/20

Open To Interpretation
 
Zombie Apocalypse

We need not go too far to see our fates.
Show me their weapons across the moats
And I can tell you their purposed hates:
Their two hands that carry can close our throats.

Over one follows one leads then follows
Climbing up long lines with double faced hooks.
This faerie castle inside its hollows
Can only defend with fantasy books.

Arrives the double bipolar terror,
Brains eyes ears arms hands shambling gripped madness,
As one with one we hold one another,
Await what those heartless can only guess.

Two by two can never make truly true
As one loving one with one times you.
 
DolphinWords

Notes: there's some puns, there's a trick...reference 'truly true' back in poem Blue Sky...that just dropped in and made this work!...reference 'bipolar' if I could...my even temper is often remarked on...oh, I go off, and on and on...but nothing like the truly depressed...in the Valley, I had at least four roommates I recollect that regaled from the very first night about their depressions...one has no notion of humanity until one is trapped with roommates...and seeing wiki's bipolar take, I wonder if that is all war is...combatants so totally depressed that they mutually agree to suicide...the unlucky ones being the survivors, who often self suicide anyway...the zombie phenomena in movies is a manifestation of collective bipolar depression...put that in your search engine and google it!...the early draft of this is very different...and it was from a refrain dream of the bipolar ghosts that bully my sleep...my house is haunted...and those with such know who these ghosts are!...it's only eleven thirty, and I was up early and about...so almost today a normal day!...on call in radio a caller called in and regaled the talk hosts with a synopsis of Game of Thrones...the whole series!...it was hilarious, as the talk show hosts were incredulous, having never seen the show...'but it's 'deep', the caller said, 'it makes one think'...'bout bedpans and rape?' they laughed...just so...

draft
I have never had to go far
To encounter our challenge
Show me each weapon
And I can tell you its purpose.
It's not like I make them
Or seen their pride first hand.

And its not their outward appearance
I know
Rather their shapeshifter disguises
A hair brush a tooth brush a brush for mustaches
Presented, Kim would tell the same.

Just so they have their golden threads
To things we commonly know
And just so we can cut them away with A scissors close by.

One cracked tall mirrors sharp edges
Handheld carried carefully outside to lean in the ivy trash hedges.
 
:)
 
DavidDavid

Tuesday, July 18, 2017

OTI:one poem and notes:7/18/17

Open To Interpretation
 
Know
 
So I'm a cat that chases the feather,
Or some labyrinth confounded mouse.
A dog looks for un-thrown bones forever,
A gullible claims love for Big Foot's blouse.

I know that, and I know you know that, too,
I know that you know that I know you know
We show we don't know what between me and you
Do know what we know we show we don't show.

Oh, I'm not sure you're sure you're sure you're sure
Where we are where we were we are where
I'm sure you're sure I'm not sure you're sure you're
Where we are sure we are not sure we're there!

Give me a daisy, I'll pluck its petals,
End these know don't know show no show nettles!
 
DolphinWords
 
Notes: well, today was yesterday again...slept 'till 4pm...was up to 4am finishing the episodes of The White Queen...tale followed very closely the account at wiki's War of the Roses take...and The White Queen stayed true to seeing through the eyes of the girls the travails of Kingships...Game of Thrones does this too...the women have the best parts!...during the night in my sleep interruptions, I'll consider a dream, check my email, facebook, and the news...review my posts, and if a line of a poem occurs to me, I must write it right then...so the iphone notepad saves me...I can do all this in a sleep blurry moment...then curl up...so the gestation of a poem can be very spread out...it's a very odd routine!...not recommended!...here one draft...don't know but all free verse poems are drafts for rhyme metered poems!

draft
So I'm a cat that chases the feather
Or some labyrinth confounded mouse
A dog looking for an unthrown bone
A gullable in love with Big Foot.

I know that, and I know you know that.
I know that you know that I know that you know that I know...
we show we don't know
As though nothing happened
Ever you know we show as though
Something happened we show as though...

Oh, I'm not sure your sure.
And your sure your sure
I'm not sure and not sure
Your sure I'm sure...

Give me a daisy and I'll pluck its petals
Then we'll know we know we don't know we know we know...
Show we don't show we show
We do we don't we do...
 
:)
 
DavidDavid


 

Monday, July 17, 2017

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

Open To Interpretation
 
Merry Go Round

On this circling stampede the riders see
Our someone common, someone lovely, pair.
Entranced in songs beneath a coral sea
On galloping seahorse saddles we fare.

In the caverns myriad impressions;
Ribbon celebrated penned goats and sheep;
The trafficking crowded head bent questions,
"What glory has he to win her, or keep?"

Is it so important how they rate us
So long as songs beneath the prancing wave's
Rhythms danced to by bobbing seahorses'
Racing mermen pursuing their mermaids?

We'll win no prize and accept no rings
Beyond the reach of common living things.

DolphinWords

Notes: this is not healthy...awake 'till 4am...sleep, off and on, until 1pm...fiddle with notions making a sonnet until the time is noted...7pm...oh...need to eat and clean....and afterwards back to post...more to do...I fell out of bed after one wake up from a dream...took the ball in a park football pickup game, and tried to kick the kick off, everyone watching...and I caught just the end of the ball, and it went like ten yards...but my leg swing swung me out of bed!...and that may be where this conceit began for Merry Go Round...a few million poems have likely been done around Merry Go Rounds, and at the end of this I remembered brass rings...more commoness!...nonetheless, I hung on, and below the iterations, the first at the scroll bottom...it's not done, but like painting, one has to leave off before everything gets overworked. as this is!...just realized that sonnet envoys are like the highlights in a portrait's eyes...always the last touch to give life to things!...and it's very much like painting making a poem with rhyme and meter...one is always struggling to stay connected to what one is trying to represent!

quote

A brass ring is a small grabbable ring that a dispenser presents to a carousel rider during the course of a ride. Usually there are a large number of iron rings and one brass one, or just a few. It takes some dexterity to grab a ring from the dispenser as the carousel rotates. The iron rings can be tossed at a target as an amusement. Typically, getting the brass ring gets the rider some sort of prize when presented to the operator. The prize often is a free repeat ride. The phrase to grab the brass ring is derived from this device.

unquote

 
12
Merry Go Round

On this circling stampede the riders see
Our someone common, someone lovely, pair,
Entranced in songs beneath a coral sea
On galloping seahorse ponies we share.

In the caverns myriad impressions,
Ribbon celebrated penned goats and sheep,
The trafficking crowded head turned questions,
"What glory has he to win her, or keep?"

Is it so important how they rate us
So long as songs beneath the prancing waves
Are heard, danced to by bobbing seahorses'
Common mermen, and uncommon mermaids?

We'll win no prize, and expect no ring
Beyond our reach, or an uncommon thing.
11
On our circling stampede us riders see
a somewhat common somewhat lovely pair
Entranced in songs beneath a coral sea
On galloping seahorse ponies we share.

In the caverns myriad impressions
Ribbon celebrated
Penned goats and sheep.
The trafficking crowd
Head turned questions
"What glory has he
To hold her, or keep?"
On our circling stampede us riders see
a somewhat common somewhat lovely pair
Entranced in songs beneath a coral sea
On galloping seahorse ponies we share.

In the caverns myriad impressions
Ribbon celebrated penned goats and sheep.
The trafficking crowd, head turned, questions,
"What glory has he to hold her, or keep?"

It's not so important how they rate us
10
Merry Go Round

On this circling stampede the riders see
Our someone common, someone lovely, pair,
Entranced in songs beneath a coral sea
On galloping seahorse ponies we share.

In the caverns myriad impressions,
Ribbon celebrated penned goats and sheep.
The trafficking crowd, head turned, questions,
"What glory has he to hold her, or keep?"

Is it so important how they rate us
So long as songs beneath the prancing waves
Are danced to by bobbing seahorses'
Common mermen, and uncommon mermaids?

We'll win no prize, and so expect no less,
And smile, spun round, at what they  do bless.
 
So long as songs beneath the prancing waves
Are danced to by bobbing seahorses'
Common mermen, and uncommon mermaids.

We'll win no prize, and so expect no less,
And smile, spun round, at what they  do bless.
 
It's not so important how they rate us
So long as songs beneath
The prancing waves
Are danced to by galloping seahorses'
Common mermen, and uncommon mermaids.

We'll win no prize, and so expect no less,
And smile as children made dizzy and blessed.
7
On our circling stampede us riders see
a somewhat common somewhat lovely pair
Entranced in songs beneath a coral sea
On galloping seahorse ponies we share.

In the caverns myriad impressions
Ribbon celebrated
Penned goats and sheep.
The trafficking crowd
Head turned questions
"What glory has he
To hold her, or keep?"

It's not important how they rate us
long as what cheers beneath
loud murmuring waves
Is heard by the silent sea horses







We'll win no prize
And expect no less
And smile as children
Made dizzy and blessed.
6
On their circling stampede the riders see
Someone common someone rare
A song beneath a coral sea
On Galloping horses pierced we share


A moment for just you and I
By the surrounding gathered
Just to see.

Stationed exhibits
In all the barn caverns
Ribbons celebrate
Paintings and crafts
Goats and sheep
The trafficking crowd
Head turn glances,
Myriad impressions
What glory has he
To make her his she.

In truth it's not that important
What we have made
Or how we are made
So long as what they make us
Their loud murmuring surf
Is lost to the silent horses
Merry songs.

We'll win no prize
And expect no less
And smile as children
Made dizzy and blessed.
5
On their circling stampede the riders see
a somewhat common somewhat lovely pair
Entranced  to songs beneath a coral sea
On galloping seahorse ponies we share.


A moment for just you and I
By the surrounding gathered
Just to see.

Stationed exhibits
In all the barn caverns
Ribbons celebrate
Paintings and crafts
Goats and sheep
The trafficking crowd
Head turn glances,
Myriad impressions
What glory has he
To make her his she.

In truth it's not that important
What we have made
Or how we are made
So long as what they make us
Their loud murmuring surf
Is lost to the silent horses
Merry songs.

We'll win no prize
And expect no less
And smile as children
Made dizzy and blessed.
3
Someone common someone rare
The riders ware
On their circling stampede see
The Galloping horses pierced we share
The merry go round
We share
Galloping poles pierced
Impossible horses
A circling dance floor cleared
A moment for just you and I
By the surrounding gathered
Just to see.

Stationed exhibits
In all the barn caverns
Ribbons celebrate
Paintings and crafts
Goats and sheep
The trafficking crowd
Head turn glances,
Myriad impressions
What glory has he
To make her his she.

In truth it's not that important
What we have made
Or how we are made
So long as what they make us
Their loud murmuring surf
Is lost to the silent horses
Merry songs.

We'll win no prize
And expect no less
And smile as children
Made dizzy and blessed.
2
Someone common
Someone rare
The walking crowd
Made ware
Seeing
The merry go round
We share
Galloping poles pierced
Impossible horses
A circling dance floor cleared
A moment for just you and I
By the surrounding gathered
Just to see.

Stationed exhibits
In all the barn caverns
Ribbons celebrate
Paintings and crafts
Goats and sheep
The trafficking crowd
Head turn glances,
Myriad impressions
What glory has he
To make her his she.

In truth it's not that important
What we have made
Or how we are made
So long as what they make us
Their loud murmuring surf
Is lost to the silent horses
Merry songs.

We'll win no prize
And expect no less
And smile as children
Made dizzy and blessed.
1
 Someone common
Someone rare
The walking crowd
Made ware
Seeing where
The merry go round
We share
Galloping poles
Impossible horses
A circling dance floor cleared
A moment for just you and I
By the surrounding gathered
Just to see.

Stationed exhibits
In all the barn caverns
Paintings and crafts
Goats and sheep
We bend to see
The trafficking crowd
Head turn glances,
Thinks
What glory has he
To make her his she.

In truth it's not that important
What we have made
Or how we are made
So long as what they made us
Their loud murmuring surf
Is base to the horses
Merrygoround songs.

We'll win no prize
And expect no less
And smile as children
Made dizzy and blessed.

:)

DavidDavid