4 responses

  1. I like this one :) it is elusive and musical. The syntax gives it a different composition (or brushstrokes? I was never good in art class) than most haiku– the pattern of set it up and knock it down. Anyway, congrats on finishing your book last month! That is an amazing way to start the year. Oh yeah, I got a cool anthology for Christmas, and I found a poem that I wanted to show you:

    Cunning and art he did not lack
    But aye her whistle would fetch him back.

    Oh, I shall go into the hare
    With sorrow and sighing and mickle care,
    And I shall go into the Devil’s name
    Aye, till I be fetchèd hame.
    – Hare, take heed of a bitch greyhound
    Will harry thee all these fells around,
    For here come I in Our Lady’s name
    All but for to fetch thee hame.

    Cunning and art he did not lack
    But aye her whistle would fetch him back.

    Yet, I shall go into a trout
    With sorrow and sighing and mickle doubt,
    And show thee many a crooked game
    Ere that I be fetchèd hame.
    – Trout, take heed of an otter lank
    Will harry the close from bank to bank,
    For here comes I in Our Lady’s name
    All but for to fetch thee hame.

    Cunning and art he did not lack
    But aye her whistle would fetch him back.

    Yet I shall go into a bee
    With a mickle horror and dread of thee
    And flit to hive in the Devil’s name
    Ere that I be fetchèd hame.
    – Bee, take heed of a swallow hen
    Will harry thee close, both butt and ben,
    For here come I in Our Lady’s Name
    All but for to fetch thee hame.

    Cunning and art he did not lack
    But aye her whistle would fetch him back.

    Yet I shall go into a mouse
    And haste me unto the miller’s house,
    There in his corn to have good game
    Ere that I be fetchèd hame.
    – Mouse, take heed of a white tib-cat
    That never was baulked of mouse or rat,
    For I’ll crack thy bones in Our Lady’s name:
    Thus shalt thou be fetchèd hame.

    Cunning and art he did not lack
    But aye her whistle would fetch him back.

    Robert Graves
    (restoration from seventeenth century fragmentary witch chants)

    I think it’s a ton of fun. Also I read one that reminded me of cliff:

    After His Death

    It turned out
    that the bombs he had thrown
    raised buildings:

    that the acid he sprayed
    had painfully opened
    the eyes of the blind.

    Fishermen hauled
    prizewinning fish
    from the water he had polluted.

    We sat with astonishment
    enjoying the shade
    of the vicious words he had planted.

    The government decreed that
    on the anniversary of his birth
    the people should observe
    two minutes pandemonium.

    Norman MacCaig

    Best wishes :)

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    • Thanks again for your kind words. I love both the poems you’ve offered me. The first for its magical realism and because I like anything with the Devil in it, and the second I like because it’s clever and original. So much poetry is dull as the paper it’s written on. Send more. :)

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  2. I liked this haiku too—a real gem in my opinion. And, Rillie, thanks. I’m flattered to be compared to Norman MacCaig. Never have I seen the plain statement with more rich allusiveness. All I remember about Graves, though, is Good-Bye to All That.

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  3. I was in a “Sailing to Byzantium” mood tonight and wrote this. It’s been my intent for some time to surpass it. Getting there? Thanks.

    A Boomer Responds to Some Angry Young ‘Woke’ Folk

    Poetry did nothing to
    Keep my gentle face
    From mouldering to
    The sharper view
    Of Pound’s at St. Elizabeths—
    To see the young remark
    My role: “Geezer, nothing else.
    Out of our way! You paltry crank
    With one foot in the grave!
    What can you do to make the world
    A place we can progress—and
    Growing old ourselves be first
    To finally get it right?
    Speak! before your grave
    To us, your day is growing short!
    Speak! before your grave at dusk
    Your fusty crumb of truth!
    Speak! as history buries you–
    This your final chance!”

    “Well, my young, this may surprise:
    You’ve quoted me exact
    What to the old I said myself
    Declaiming count by count.
    But eternals what they are
    A half a century later
    I stand before my grave
    Like them,
    In humble resignation

    Like

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