Monday, September 1, 2014

Above Water

This Melissa Polinar/Jeremy Passion song gave me goosebumps the first time I heard it. (I shared a Bluey Robinson/Jeremy Passion video a while back.)



Friday, August 29, 2014

The Fragrance of Goodness

We all write poems; it is simply that poets are the ones who write in words.
~John Fowles



Bubbles in the ice by Christian Guthier

Waiting
by Susan Kolodny

Waiting in the café for my son
who has been struggling up
from under the ice, trying to find
where it is thin enough to break,
but thick enough to crawl up onto

read the rest here

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Santalum freycinetianum by David Eickhoff

A poem by Siddhartha Gautama, also known as the Buddha:

The perfume of sandalwood,
the scent of rosebay and jasmine,
travel only as far as the wind.

But the fragrance of goodness
travels with us
through all the worlds.

Like garlands woven from a heap of flowers,
fashion your life
as a garland of beautiful deeds.

**********

You can find the Poetry Friday round-up at Check It Out.

Thursday, August 28, 2014

Like a Ton of Bricks

Today, our focus is the humble brick.

Institut d'Art et d'Archeologie
by Paul Bigot
photo by Art on the Fly

Vilnia | Church of St. Hanna
photo by Paval Hadzinski

High art in Indianapolis on Mass Ave.
photo by Steve Baker

Watts Chapel - Compton - Surrey
photo by Nick Garrod

Untitled
by Mara Smith
photo by Kevin Harber

Abbaye de Pomposa à Cidigoro
photo by kristobalite

Ensemble d'églises romanes Santo Stefano à Bologna
photo by kristobalite

Basilique Saint-Apollinaire-in-Classe à Ravenna
photo by kristobalite


Monday, August 25, 2014

A Gathering of Spirits

I can’t explain it. I couldn’t if I tried
How the only things we carry
Are the things we hold inside
~Carrie Newcomer


A song for Katherine R. this morning in the hopes that it will be a little comforting:


Friday, August 22, 2014

Swap Poems



The Summer Swap 2014 poets were very entertaining, thoughtful, clever givers, as you can see from the poems below. Thank you to Irene, Keri, and Robyn letting me share these!


Summer Poem Swap
by Irene Latham
for Tabatha

Poems flip-flop
across 13 states,
dive into the hands

                         of poets

who savor words
the way wind
relishes treetops.

Sometimes
the poems arrive
lemondrop-light;

other times
they belly-flop,
meaty as pork chops.

Each poem quenches
like a fat raindrop's
kerplop.

Why, oh why
does the swap
have to stop?

**************


Victoria Inner Harbour Panorama 2012 by Gord McKenna

VICTORIA, B.C., JULY 2014
by Keri Collins Lewis
for Tabatha Yeatts

Seagulls
screech high above
mercurial waters
as the ferry slips into place:
welcome.


**************

JABBERDOGGY *
by Robyn Hood Black

Twas breakfast, and the slimikin cur
Did tremefy the gray cat away:
All mowburnt was the bacon
All misqueme, the one who groaks
"Beware the scelidate, my son!
Epalpebrate, with kexy fur!
Beware the aquabib, and shun
the crebritous rogitator!"

* Or "Watch Out for the Small Dog Who Begs at the Table"
(thanks/apologies to Lewis Carroll and Tabatha's "Pets in the Kitchen" series)



Lucy, wondering whether she misquemed the cat

(Note from Tabatha: Maybe I should mention that one of the optional prompts was to use obsolete words in your poem? Linda shared my crazy obsolete word poems.)

Glossary:
slimikin - small and slender
tremefy - to cause to tremble
mowburnt - spoiled by becoming overheated
misqueme - to displease, to offend
groak - to silently watch someone while they are eating, hoping to be invited to join them
scelidate - having legs
epalpebrate - lacking eyebrows
kexy - dry, brittle, withered
aquabib - water-drinker
crebrity - frequency, period between two occurrences
rogitate - to ask frequently

**************

Irene is our Poetry Friday host today. Hope you are feeling better soon, Robyn!

Thursday, August 21, 2014

Cloaks, No Dagger

Good words do more than hard speeches, as the sunbeams, without any noise, will make the traveler cast off his cloak, which all the blustering winds could not do, but only make him bind it closer to him.
~Robert Leighton


Today we have cloaks and robes (and a coat).

Kurd Man
by Max Karl Tilke
National Museum of Georgia

Color lithograph depicting nineteenth century General Manuel Pavia y Lacy (1814-1896), Marquis of Novaliches, clad in the ceremonial robe and mantle of the Royal and Military Order of San Fernando, popularly known as Laureate of San Fernando Cruz

Inverness Coat, 1901
Men's Fashion Illustration from the Turn of the Century
Reprint by Dover Publications, 1990

Cloak
A cloak was the third item of dress in a man's ensemble at the end of the 16th century. It was worn with a doublet and trunk hose.

Count Mollien in Napoleonic court costume
by Robert Lefèvre

Sir Nicholas Vansittart
by Sir Thomas Lawrence

Ludwig II portrait
by Gabriel Schachinger

Koorkap kaproen

Previous clothing-related posts include men's accessories, DIY costumes, and beads.

Friday, August 15, 2014

Honey With Poems In It



Flüssiges Gold by Maja Dumat

Today's poem was written by Su Shi more than nine hundred years ago. The Mountain Songs Chinese poetry website explains that Su Shi was friends with a monk poet named Zhongshu: "Before becoming a monk, Zhongshu...had taken a wife. However, he found it impossible to stay at home, and one day his angry wife poisoned his meat. Zhongshu nearly died but cured himself by eating honey, which he continued to do for the rest of his life. Furthermore, doctors warned him that if he even touched meat again, the poison would reactivate and he would be dead. On hearing this, Zhongshu decided that he might as well become a monk." Su Shi wrote a number of poems for Zhongshu, including "Song of the Honey-eating Old Man from Anzhou."

Song of the Honey-eating Old Man from Anzhou
by Su Shi, 1036-1101

The old fellow of Anzhou has a mind as resolute as iron
But still manages to retain the tongue of a child.
He will not touch the five grains, but eats only honey:
Smiling, he points to the bees and calls them his "donors"!
The honey he eats contains a poetry men do not understand:
But the myriad flowers and grasses vie to transport it.
The old fellow sips and savors and then spits out poems,
Poems designed to entice the ill "children" of the world.
When the children taste his poems, it is like tasting honey,
And that honey is a cure for the hundred ills.
Just when they are madly rushing about grasping at straws,
Smiling, they read his poems and all their cares vanish!
Master Dongpo has always treated others with fairness
But still there are some who like him and some who don't!
Like a tea that some find bitter and other sweet,
And unlike honey, which tastes sweet to everyone.
So, Sir, I am sending you a round cake of Double Dragon tea:
Which, if held up to a mirror, will reflect the two dragons.
Though Wu during the sixth month is as hot as boiling water,
This old man's mind is as cool as the Double Dragon Well!

Translated by Beata Grant

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The Poetry Friday round-up is at My Juicy Little Universe.