900 Followers…Welcome Little Literature

https://wordpress.com/read/blogs/149381873

I’ve been looking for my #900 Follower.    The honors go to  littleliteraturekc.    I don’t know anything else about this person except that they write great poetry!     Have a peek, its like popcorn reading this collection,—ya can’t stop at just one.

 

 

 

 

Why is it called Latin America? (re-blog with new title)

Q 1 —Why do we hear so little about countries in Central and South America?

Q 2 — Do citizens of all Latin American nations speak Spanish?

Q 3 — What was the Treaty of Tordesillas?

 

See the source image

 

 

  Q. Why do we hear so little about Latin American countries?  

For one thing, we Americans tend to get our news from a relative few sources, including local television as the most personal news…about our neighborhood, the city, county and state.     Local news bring us details about local sports teams, schools with leaky roofs, who is being arrested or has excelled in something.

The other major news source is cable news like CNN, MSNBC, FOX.  These news networks follow major events around the world—almost always from a standpoint of the United States involvement with the current “newsworthy nation.”    Friends or foes get the news coverage in order of their relative importance to Washington.

Mexico and Canada tend to get the most news coverage, being our immediate neighbors to the north and south.     Other nations, notably Venezuela, which usually has an adversary position with the United States—as one of the chief “bad boys” that are not on the favorites list.    Cuba held that position as thorn-in-the-side for more than half a century, and was rewarded with punative embargoes that tried to crush the island’s fortunes.

Why is it called Latin America?    Because it was dubbed with that name at various times in History, including by Napoleon and Jose Martí (a Cuban writer) and others for various conversational purposes.    The collection of nations included in the designation Latin America were originally settled by the European countries speaking Latin-based (Romance) languages: Spain, England, Portugal, France.       Some of the islands in the Caribbean were originally romance-language speakers after colonialization, although others speak Dutch or English..

The Spanish settled all of the South American continent except Brazil, which was and is Portuguese speaking.

The Treaty of Tordesillas, signed at Tordesillas on June 7, 1494, and authenticated at Setúbal, Portugal, divided the newly discovered lands outside Europe between Portugal and the Crown of Castile, along a meridian 370 leagues west of the Cape Verde islands, off the west coast of Africa.    Following is an excellent Wikipedia.org article about the Treaty of Tordesillas and its lasting influence on the division of the world between the Spanish and Portuguese.   https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Treaty_of_Tordesillas

Here is an excellent site that I found while researching the above material.  http://www.dosmanosnederland.com/en/index.php    The succinct  but thorough History of Latin America  contained here is highly recommended for the casual interest in the region, and provides a good review and timeline.

when the Muse keeps quiet

Here’s a re-run of a blogging commentary I published here on Sometimes a while back….

SOMETIMES

One of the things I love about blogging is the great bloggers…all kinds of people, all over the world, young and old (is that politically correct?) and all political and religious persuasions.   I like that.   How boring life would be if we never got out of our particular little niche.     I DO care about all my … uh…blogging acquaintances…and their opinions and points of view…even the ones that don’t think like I do.   That’s OK, feel free to say what ya want and I’ll deal with it.    My best friends usually don’t agree with me on everything…some don’t agree on anything…

Blogging is fun because there aren’t many rules, and when it isn’t fun there is always the unfollow button.

This post is supposed to be about My Muse.    She stays out of the way, mostly, and pops out with a brainstorm of an idea, or nags me to comment…

View original post 538 more words

New Title…update on post about assonance poems…examples from poets like Edgar Allen Poe (re-blogged from yourdictionary.com )

http://examples.yourdictionary.com/examples-of-assonance-poems.html

 

Yesterday’s post reminded me of how much I enjoyed the poetry classes I and about a thousand other bloggers participated in last year.   The classes were so popular they had to shut enrollment down…I think.    The moderators presented us with some really obscure, to me anyway, terms and forms of poetry.    I dimly remember poetry classes in school back in the dark ages, the days of my lightheadedness and depth of my soul combined to write really bad poems about lust and love and despair at ever experiencing either.

Having re-read my favorite nonsense poem about the anteater and the eel, my contribution to the assignment for the day, which was Assonance.    Reading the poem again I realized that I had no clue as to exactly what assonance was, so I googled it.  The link that came up is just marvelous…and made me SO jealous of the famous zealots that wrote and wrote their hearts out back in their day.

One word of guidance…poetry that rhymes and/or possesses a metric cadence just cries out to be read out loud, line by line, not mumbled silently and skimmed for meaning.

I belabor the obvious here, again, and state that I am not a poet.    I respect poetry, I do, and although I understand the agony of who are dead serious about writing and rhyming.   For me the main rule is that any piece of writing, poetry or novel, song or joke…needs to have meaning.

A bit of toe-tapping helps get in the mood.    Jumping rope always sets the pace too…   “Dan and Susie sittin’ in a tree, k.i.s.s.i.n.g….”    sorry, I wasn’t well enough coordinated to jump rope effectively.

http://examples.yourdictionary.com/examples-of-assonance-poems.html

[This is a good article, and fun to read…even for those who don’t give a fig about what assonance means.]

Stranger than Fiction: again

This is one of my personal favorite assignments from writing class last year…in response to rules that the work be a limerick and contain certain other attributes of writing poetry.    I had great fun writing it—

THE DONALD’S MARCH TO INFAMY

There once was a boy named Donald
Who wanted to be rich, and grow up to be President
ha ha! said the people as he started to
stump
but he knew what he was doing and had all the cards he needed to
trump,
and win the game
opponents screamed like angry cat matrons
and picked on his hair and his noisy patrons
but Donald just said they should “lump it!”

“You haven’t a chance, you’re not one of us,” they wailed
“is that so?” said Donald as he placed a standing order for tea and crumpets
to serve to his fans to keep them from starving on the campaign trail
His crowd of the faithful grew and grew
’til they filled the land
so they bought him a very big trumpet.

© Sometimes, 2015

New Leaf…stay tuned

OK.     Enough time has been wasted on the agonizing and agonistic misadventures of the United States Government (or lack thereof.)    I do hope to live long enough to ingrain some of the History of the World Under Trump into my DNA.   Right, I’m not even sure that is possible, about the DNA that is, but the truth is that until about twenty years ago I was not even aware of such a thing.       Science was never my bag,  although my interests and obsessions lie as much with clouds and rocks, bugs and sea creatures, as any one.

A basic interest in Geneology is in fact part of my basic make-up, due largely if not mainly to my Dad’s Mom, my Grandmother Lillian Turney Piper.    The font of knowledge or awareness of our family origins was argueably Lillian’s mother, Ann Avann Turney, of Tenterton, England.      OK, enough with the name-dropping.

We lived with the aforementioned forebears until I was three, so direct influence of Great Grandma Ann was by osmosis, so to speak.   She no doubt talked with me a lot about family affairs.  She also kept personal diaries after the age of about 80, when she was forced to curtail her former active social life and retreat to her home.   There she wrote her faithful diary entries…and discussed life and the world with visitors and family.    She read daily newspapers and other periodicals, and often wrote and received personal letters.

Visitors included members of social clubs, and church membership.   GG Ann was into all sorts of world activities, and wrote poetry.   Yes…a poet.   There was no WordPress then, of course, no computers or email.   The telephone was tied to the wall with a cord, and used only in turn with other people on the line (of course they listened in) so one just stated their business and got off the phone.    No texting…no cell phones.

GG Ann was keenly interested, and involved to whatever possible extent, in the WCTU: The Women’s Christian Temperance Union.   Their target—Alcohol.     I wish that here would follow exciting tales about women in long dresses and big fancy hats smashing bars and bottles with axes.   Or at least, rolling pins.     I have no details about GG Ann’s adventures with the WCTU, although there are extant examples of her original poetry and quotations clipped from newspapers.

To get back to my new pursuit…as I said earlier, my preoccupation with the United States government (or lack thereof,) only grows by the hour, and has no practical application to my personal blog.    My associates, followers, correspondents, critics…mostly are on the same political page wherever they are in our world.   Common sense and questionable judgement urges me to stay out of the comment sections of various venues, on the premise that everyone has an opinion and anything I say they will ignore, take offense, or call me names…which hurts my feelings.    Preaching to the choir has no direct result except winks and thumbs-ups…and arguing with the posters, trolls or not, is counterproductive and only makes me mad.

This morning a blogger pal reposted an article from a newspaper that mentions the Koch Brothers and hitherto emphasized family (group?) The Mercers.   I know who the Koch Brothers are…friends of Trump, I think…but the Mercers?   Hmmm, I have decided to find out who these people are, what they are up to, and—if they are related to ME.     GG Ann’s grandmother was a Mary Mercer… so that’s my new preoccupation.   (stay tuned)

 

 

STATS…my favorite posting prompt

(this post has been amended twice er, three times in the past five minutes.)

I LOVE to look at STATS of my various sites.     They are always wonderful…in the sense of being “full of wonder” at the mysterious statistics.

Today my notice came about a great spike in hourly views and visitors to my alternate site,              A State of Mind, which I admit is sorely neglected.

Anyway, my number of VIEWS has spiked to 52 views an hour — remarkable in view of the stat that my normal count of views is   O  — ZERO.   Of course his information peaked my interest and curiosity.

It seems that the 52 Views were … well, viewed … by 2 — TWO individuals.   One in Canada, the other in Australia.

Welcome to both!

Apparently one viewer looked at up to 52 of my past posts.

…. and guess who holds the record for having looked at (viewed) my posts?

Ha!    Gradmama2011.    Yes, that’s ME.

I love Stats… 🙂

The Neighborhood Dance, or Taming the Wild Assonants

Writing 201, Poetry–Day 7: Neighborhood, Ballad, Assonance

(This rhythym sort of works to the tune of “Sweet Betsy from Pike.”
or even “Beverly Hillbilly song.”)

Neighborhood Dance

A natty Anteater’s Aunt wanted a chance to meet an
Easy-going Eel sufficient in charms, the
Idea she had was to learn how to dance, but
Only one catch–the Eel had no arms.  So
Unity of moves was hard to enhance
until the Risqué Raccoon suggested:
“Why not freelance?”

©Sometimes,2015

The perfect gift for a child (renamed)

[Writing201, Poetry.   Today’s assignment involves the word GIFT, and Crostic, and Alliteration.]    (Originally published on Sometimes in 2015 under title A Perfect Past Present for Poetry Class)

        A Perfect Past Present

Better a book, than a boat or a bear

Or my childhood dream would be dashed

Only such a gift would

Keep me a happy child.

I would never have wanted clothing

Neither undies nor socks…in a box

A doll or a hat or even a unicorn of bisque would have been taking a terrible risk

of dashing my special specific dream of a gift

But–alas!  There was only one lonely gift left…and that in a box!

OXYDOL SOAP said the  boisterous box, causing my young heart to sink

X-actly!   I  cheered as I peered inside, and shouted — “MY BOOK IN A BOX!”

©Sometimes, 2015