[Writing 201, Poetry. DAY 4: Imperfect, Limerick, Enjambment–which is a technique they must have taught when I was skipping English class in high school.]
Who you calling imperfect?
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.
[Writing 201: Poetry, Day Three — Skin, Prose Poetry, Internal Rhyme]
rhythm and flow and here we go–gathering information and seeking inspiration
Wrinkles in Time
Once her skin was smooth and soft
inviting a lover’s touch…
Now her arms recall the delight of it all
as the feeling of warm fingers still lingers
erasing the wrinkles in time.
Today is the 20 year anniversary of the O.J. Simpson trial. The newscasters were talking about it on CNN. They were entertaining the question of OJ’s guilt or innocence, and interviewing each other and assorted “experts” on the subject.
So, you ask…what do you think? Did he kill his wife? Or not?
I have NO idea…no opinion. I wasn’t paying much attention at the time of the trial, although I was tuned in when the verdict was read. OJ was of course waiting breathlessly…after all, his future depended largely on the decision of the jury…the suspense was heavy and thick.
The foreman read the verdict: NOT GUILTY.
I can still see the look on Simpson’s face. What were his emotions? Shock, Relief, Surprise, Joy…the reactions of a man who had just gotten his life back.
Again, I have no idea if he was guilty or not guilty. But the lasting impression that came away from the TV screen with me to this day was not one of justice or court room drama, pay-back, retribution, come-uppance, justice…but something at once related and unrelated. The Simpson trial caused another major split in the American public…between those who think he was innocent all along, and those who assumed his guilt and lamented that the “s.o.b. got away with murder.”
The point is this. The issue here is not the basketball great’s culpability in the death of his wife, his guilt or innocence, the big question of if justice was served or was a gross miscarriage. The actual point is moot…the trial was held and a duly seated jury made a verdict, which the Judge upheld, and the case was closed.
What happened was that the entire procedure of the O.J. Simpson trial was what is called the Law of the Land, the exercise of the basic right of all Americans to be guaranteed a Trial by a Jury of his or her Peers. That jury heard the evidence and charges presented by the State, and by Simpson’s own attorneys–and made their decision.
The Jury acquitted O.J. Simpson of murder charges.
There has been outrage ever since. Debate of the validity of the charges, if OJ had been favored because of his race, the partiality of the jurors…and the argument that he received special legal advantages because he was a famous (and popular, considered a good role-model,) sports figure. )
None of that matters, really, because the fact remains that the Simpson trial was conducted by the Law of the Land…whatever we as individuals believe is immaterial, because the Jury verdict was reached according to the rules of the system.
The system exists as it is set up. We can’t have it both ways–either the Rule of Law as it pertains to the right to be presumed innocent until proven guilty prevails for all people–or it does not. So since the Jury said “Not Guilty,” the defendant was freed as acquitted. The only opinions that matter are those of the Jury.
[Writing201, Poetry. Today’s assignment involves the word GIFT, and Crostic, and Alliteration.]
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!”
[Poetry Writing201 , Day One.]
first Haiku by me
term is new to me in fact
here is my debut
DOES SIZE MATTER?
Hits of silver screen
images bigger than life
shrunk tiny on TV screen
Does anyone remember the comedian Flip Wilson, who was often on the telly back in the the 60s?
One of his monologues, included the lines:
He who has nothing shall have less, and that which he has shall be taken from him…and the people cheered: “yay King, yay King.”
The narrative continued, making fun of the fictious King speaking to his people.
I found that absolutely hilarious, back then, and still think of it as extremely appropo now.
My point is that no matter how ridiculous or self-serving the speeches of many politicians are–their followers cheer and echo the position stated.
No thinking required.
Not really…writing is my life, and it stays above everything else. So that means that if I am not actively engaged in writing/blogging/photographing/researching…but pursuing any other interests, time is spent on avoidance of the thing I want to do most.
What else is there?, you ask.
Well, there is gardening, which involves good intentions, wishful thinking, jungle-conditions, drought, over-watering, lack of energy, and weeds. I don’t really enjoy the labor parts of gardening any more, because my poor knees refuse to cooperate…once I’m down, getting back up is painful chore.
There is Beading, which is something I really enjoy. I love beads (boy, do I love beads…I never met a bead I didn’t like) but one of the joys of making lovely things from beads is playing with the beads: sorting them out by color and/or size, admiring the vast array of shapes and possibilities for projects. Related to manipulating the beads themselves, is reading books about beading…bookmarking specific examples of fabulous creations that are, 1. too difficult, 2. too time-consuming, 3. too expensive to make, or 4. on second or third look at the project–ugly.
Crocheting is another thing I like to do. Choosing yarn, buying yarn, combining colors, finding the right crochet hook…deciding which stitch to use for a certain project, ripping out mistakes… One of the main things I like about crocheting is that it is relatively compact, the project consists of only the yarn, crochet hook, and the scarf-in-progress, in a bag to hold the lot.
I say scarf because scarves are the only thing I make and actually complete. Oh yes, I make hats, but they are usually not any that anyone would wear. Once I was going to make a gorgeous full-length evening cape of dark blues and purple variegated yarn. Let’s just say that project fizzled out due to the enormity of it, intricate stitch, and the realization that I would never wear it because it would have looked dumb. Who wears evening capes to the grocery store?
Then there are my books. I am an online book dealer, and have a couple of thousand books listed and organized numerically (according to date sequence, so they can be found quickly.) Invariably the particular book that I have an order for is lost, misplaced, or hiding. Really I almost always locate the book in question fairly quickly, and get it out to the person who ordered it the same day.
To be fair, and accurate, I must say that my books operation is very close to Writing at the top of my list of things to do. For one thing it makes a small contribution to my over-all state of reality on the brink of poverty, and provides a certain satisfaction at the existence of this business that I have created and maintain single handedly. (Except for my son, who takes the packages to the mailbox, and my dear mail-lady, who whisks them away for their travels to far distant reaches of the book market in the United States.
Much more satisfying to me personally is my personal book collection. I have thousands of books of my own, noteably History classics, and books on virtually every country of Latin America. But I could easily digress here into book-heaven. Yesterday I went downstairs and retrieved my big binders containing every notebook (and exams) from every course I ever took. That includes my unpublished doctoral dissertation, which was what I was really looking for yesterday.
Talk about diversion…I spent two hours going over my notes from every class I took at the Community College twenty years ago–classes in United States History, World History, Sumerian History, World Civilizations… and I was much intrigued by this information.
So to make a long story shorter, all of the time I was fighting the cobwebs downstairs holding my bookshelves together…I had this nagging feeling I get from procrastination of the one thing that I really really want to do, which is to WRITE.
I have decided to publish some of my things that I wrote back in the day. However, one of the drawbacks is that although everything I wrote was done and printed out with my computer. I am afraid that the originals of these works of art are on discs and floppies that I may not be able to access. So…I may have to scan some paper copies into my computer, or YIKES, type/keyboard stuff in.
Thank goodness I am a luddite that still believes in paper…reams and reams of it…and never throw anything away. I won’t bore anyone here with my far-out views on the safety of preserving things on cyberspace. Not here, anyway. 🙂