I have decided that I need to get back to my poetry writing, which I dearly love but for some reason I have veered away from it, and it seems as though I am looking at enter these challenges as a stranger timidly seeking acceptance into the group. Really? Back to the drawing board, or more specifically: back to the blank page awaiting a poem.
I never heard of Ekphrastic poetry, but I like it. It just means describing a photo or art work in words, aside from the image. Often a picture has deep meaning which may have little or nothing to do with the actual visual picture. This is true of the photo by Annette Rochelle Aban, which features a collection of starfish and sea shells. The first notion that came to my mind was of a collection accented or contained within a border that is simply a string of beads. The meaning (for me) was one of a collection of personal treasures which remains private to me and unknown to anyone else. Those treasures of course may be actual things acquired sometime in life, or memories that have nothing to do with the sea or any things of the sea.
Here is my contribution, in the form of a Haiku. Although I am especially fond of free verse, Haiku is my go-to form when I want to poetize (is that a word?) a thought or a vision in a succinct and intuitive form.
my treasures abound
safely forever obscure
secured in my heart
[I am posting this poem which I wrote in 2015 as one of a series of I will call: Favorite Posts.]
The Venerable Bede
The Venerable Bede had a lot to read
in order to write the order and the
history of the medieval world.
He considered the matter of churches and cathedrals
and determined to add something new
in order to broaden the catalogues.
The Venerable Bede went out to the towns and the
countryside chatting with merchants and lords
searching for secular facts and bits of lore…
and made it known he was looking for more.
He went with his scribes, and trusty mules to carry the scrolls,
and collected History–words of men and their exploits.
The Venerable Bede explored the world
beyond the monastery walls.
He asked about roads and river boats
and the manners of insects and stars.
He sat with the old folks and shared a pint,
inquiring about all things, and morays, and techniques
and facts that were new…to him.
He wrote about travel and voyages, of builders and sailors,
of farmers…and of men who plyed the trades.
The Venerable Bede always took heed
of secular motive and deed.
He recognized the worth in History,
no matter how mundane.
But through it all, the main thing he learned…perhaps…
was the Source of it All remained with God
and he told his admirers who praised his work,
or detractors who disapproved:
God is the Author–only the scribe was the Venerable Bede.
The favorite old song:
“Bewitched, Bothered, & Bewildered”
perfect for my Psyche
I am enjoying writing and posting weekly responses to word challenges proposed by EUGI’S CAUSERIE. Here is the URL so my readers can add your own contributions. Every week there is a new word. https://amanpan.com/2020/10/22/sharing-responses-to-eugis-weekly-prompt-ghostly-kittys-verses-the-bag-lady-anotherkatewilson-tinytotspoetry-z-z-poetry-joseph-r-mason/
Surreal patterns dance
propelled by ghostly
shadows on the wind
( © Sometimes, 2020)
My return to blogging has been slow, but I do want to participate in various writing challenges and post on my site. This is my first entry I hope it isn’t too late.
Crystal: Clear and gleam
portals reflect inner lights
near… from far away
Once there was a man who died
and no one knew what to do—
or even who would decide.
and wrung their hands, and cried—
“What a shame! Such a wasted life!”
and embarked on self-righteous lectures.
“Well I,” said God, with a nod
“… have no doubts—for it is I who decide—
and I say he shall ever sit by My side.”
“Where he remains for eternity
is not subject to debate and
Here is another of my early poems from back in the day (Oct. 2015 in this case…
The Moon, far away as it is bright
dims the brighter light of the stars
My eye sight follows the path of that light
passing the light-years between
Knowing full well the facts of the Moonlight
reflecting the light of the Sun,
it nevertheless leads me to imagine
that the Moon makes its own light from within.
Even if Galileo himself, who charted the Sun,
were to explain with patience and tact
I still would ignore him and blissfully say:
“Please don’t confuse me with facts.”
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
but he knew what he was doing and had all the cards he needed to
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
ONE resolution: this year SOMETIMES (THE BLOG) will return to the my Top, #1, Main Pursuit…..every day.
Last year, 2017, was not my best year for writing and working on my blog. Current events interfered with my goal, which was to put writing with a capital W at the top of my “things to do list.” Oh sure, my postings were more or less regular, but heavy on the Re-blogs borrowed from other bloggers.
Also, over the year 2017 I posted a lot of my own posts from past years, and many photos gleaned from my hobby of photography, dear to my heart and fairly popular with followers. The pursuit of bright flowers and trees, and the odd-ball occasional photo that inspired and illustrated the blog entries. And Poetry…a newfound love thanks to WordPress courses which brought quite a number of acquaintances and blog-friends in trading our poetic masterpieces. It was in these groups that I found the joys of writing Haiku, and other fancy poetic forms, and my favorite– “free-form” poetry.
So I pledge to follow my true love of writing into the Y2018. Instead of whining and thinking up reasons why I can’t write, I will just DO it. Just sit down and write. Also, I spend a lot of time writing in notebooks….and on envelopes, scraps of newspaper, any handy source for writing on.
I’m already a day late with the “every day” pledge. My post featuring Marilyn Monroe and Ella Fitzgerald…singing “Tropical Heatwave” should go a ways to redeem my lagging sagging New Year Resolutions.
So… see ya all on the blogosphere. How’s that for “trite?” 🙂
It’s been awhile since I published one of my Wordle attempts. MindLoveMiseryMenagerie regularly presents these Word-puzzles, in which a list of words is provided, to be crafted into a poem or other form of writing. This Wordle is #157. (*see word list below.)
The Art of Flirting
We have reached a stalemate…you and I
in our playhouse of make-believe,
avoiding muse-thieves in cahoots vis-à-vis
in competition for cleverness … a turn of a phrase.
I bite my tongue in affected semaphorism
… a flicker of eyelashes with a knowing smile,
a hint of a shared secret, imaginary interlude
“remember the willows…?” a tentative glance…
To know or not to know becomes the quest
we wonder: are we on the same page?
Do we deserve to solve the paradox
of saying nothing…while expressing it all?
*Word list: bite, smooth, open, deserve, paradox, semaphorism, stalemate, tension, playhouse, Neptune, thieves. (I was unable to work in two of the words: Neptune and tension, but did manage to incorporate the prerequisite ten words—including Semaphorism — a conversational hint of something personal to say; a half-told anecdote; one of those comments we slip into an otherwise unconnected conversation, such as an aside which has no apparent meaning other than between two specific people; a private joke.