Friday, January 25, 2013
Haiku Friday: Poetry about Poets!
As Renee has reminded me, today is the birthday of Scottish poet Robert Burns, sometimes called the "Ploughman Poet," since he honed his language skills while tending the family farm. His best known poem is probably "A Red, Red Rose:"
O my Luve's like a red, red rose
That’s newly sprung in June;
O my Luve's like the melodie
That’s sweetly play'd in tune.
As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in luve am I:
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a’ the seas gang dry:
Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi’ the sun:
I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands o’ life shall run.
And fare thee well, my only Luve
And fare thee well, a while!
And I will come again, my Luve,
Tho’ it were ten thousand mile.
So, my friends, let's haiku about our favorite poets, be they Shakespeare or Bob Dylan.
Here is mine:
Inauguration;
Kennedy listens, leans in,
To hear Robert Frost.
Now it is your turn! Make your haiku about 5 syllables/7 syllables/5 syllables, and the most corpulent poem gets a bio here on Monday!
Comments:
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Thorin, baritone:
Longing for a homeland lost,
Tolkien's poem in prose.
(Richard Armitage
could sing me a lullaby
any night he likes!)
Longing for a homeland lost,
Tolkien's poem in prose.
(Richard Armitage
could sing me a lullaby
any night he likes!)
Candy is dandy
but liquor is quicker said
a poet named Nash
also said women
would rather be right than be reasonable. I
applaud anyone
who is famous for sharing
my thoughts exactly
but liquor is quicker said
a poet named Nash
also said women
would rather be right than be reasonable. I
applaud anyone
who is famous for sharing
my thoughts exactly
# posted by 
: 2:55 PM
: 2:55 PM
Tae Robin who lo'ed Nature so,
And ladies far surpassin'
For just a touch o'yer bonny lips
I'll ignore the ither lasses.
Och,Professor! I cannae write a haiku t'day.
And ladies far surpassin'
For just a touch o'yer bonny lips
I'll ignore the ither lasses.
Och,Professor! I cannae write a haiku t'day.
# posted by : 5:06 PM
: 5:06 PM
Small priest limned language
Crimson Glory,Hallelus
Him,Jesus,Lord.
Of English poet,Gerard Manley Hopkins.
Crimson Glory,Hallelus
Him,Jesus,Lord.
Of English poet,Gerard Manley Hopkins.
In the greenhouse he
Spied Geranium leaves,hands
Like hearts held aloft.
Or things small,wriggling
They held his eye.His dad
Waltzed him in kitchens.
University
Showed him other breathtaking
Creatures.Legs of She.OOOOOOOOOOh.
He woke to sleep and
Took his waking slow.Felt his
Fate.Drowned.In the Sound.
Of American poet:Theodore Roethke.
Spied Geranium leaves,hands
Like hearts held aloft.
Or things small,wriggling
They held his eye.His dad
Waltzed him in kitchens.
University
Showed him other breathtaking
Creatures.Legs of She.OOOOOOOOOOh.
He woke to sleep and
Took his waking slow.Felt his
Fate.Drowned.In the Sound.
Of American poet:Theodore Roethke.
In simple white she
Stood witness to life and death
Bobbolinks sang psalms
She kept herself away
From the fray of our clamor...
To say it sly-soft.
Emily,"what the
Hell are you saying?" I cry.
She winged runs ahead.
So,I must read and
Read again and keep my tired
Eyes keen for mystics.
Of Emily Dickinson.
Stood witness to life and death
Bobbolinks sang psalms
She kept herself away
From the fray of our clamor...
To say it sly-soft.
Emily,"what the
Hell are you saying?" I cry.
She winged runs ahead.
So,I must read and
Read again and keep my tired
Eyes keen for mystics.
Of Emily Dickinson.
yours, mark, reminded me of RFK's public eulogy of MLK:
MLK is gone.
Misquoted Aeschylus, but
wisdom through God's (awful)grace.
the entire poem itself is one of my favorites, even as misquoted by RFK.
MLK is gone.
Misquoted Aeschylus, but
wisdom through God's (awful)grace.
the entire poem itself is one of my favorites, even as misquoted by RFK.
# posted by : 10:25 PM
: 10:25 PM
Robert Service
Now,there's a galoot--
Cold poetry,you Cowboys...
Tough Miners,man's men
Huskies,hunger,sleds
No girlie pursuits,but rough
Work in the wild.
You recite his stuff
Your hidehair stands up,wolf's Lone voice in the wind.
Now,there's a galoot--
Cold poetry,you Cowboys...
Tough Miners,man's men
Huskies,hunger,sleds
No girlie pursuits,but rough
Work in the wild.
You recite his stuff
Your hidehair stands up,wolf's Lone voice in the wind.
# posted by : 3:32 PM
: 3:32 PM
Syvia Plath
Listen,Geoffrey--
You wimp.Think you got
It rough? Sylvia's dad wuz
A Nazi. Cry Baby!
And she married the
SS of Critics.So she
Baked her head.Dammit!
Just seemed easier
Than dealing with that English
Snobjerk.Now she rests.
But I remember
About "A Black Rook in Rain"
Which so described God...!
Made me want to call
Her out of the oven.WAIT!!
Sylvie,I Love You.
Listen,Geoffrey--
You wimp.Think you got
It rough? Sylvia's dad wuz
A Nazi. Cry Baby!
And she married the
SS of Critics.So she
Baked her head.Dammit!
Just seemed easier
Than dealing with that English
Snobjerk.Now she rests.
But I remember
About "A Black Rook in Rain"
Which so described God...!
Made me want to call
Her out of the oven.WAIT!!
Sylvie,I Love You.
# posted by : 3:48 PM
: 3:48 PM
WALT WHITMAN
America.the
Words gushed from him and flowed
like
Holy water.Freed verse.
America.the
Words gushed from him and flowed
like
Holy water.Freed verse.
# posted by : 9:58 AM
: 9:58 AM
Medievalist--I challenge you to pen a haiku in Spanish and/or English about Neruda's love poems.In love with Neruda,and wish I could read him in Spanish.Afterall,Spanish is the "loving tongue."
Her body lush orchid
In your hands,you swam
Down a blood wine river
Broke thru an otter
Her hair furred your arm,burning:
Talisman of faith,fate.
For a time she was
Your shadow self,catacomb
Arisen,painted your longing.
You were always seeking,
Never finding,always lost,
You strangled her desire.
So what was left then?
Vanilla blossoms swinging in trees
The fragrance of her leaving.
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In your hands,you swam
Down a blood wine river
Broke thru an otter
Her hair furred your arm,burning:
Talisman of faith,fate.
For a time she was
Your shadow self,catacomb
Arisen,painted your longing.
You were always seeking,
Never finding,always lost,
You strangled her desire.
So what was left then?
Vanilla blossoms swinging in trees
The fragrance of her leaving.
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