Posts tagged ‘writing’

April 21, 2013

a luddite in the 21st century

by jhon baker

I have a subject in mind

but that isn’t what this poem is about.

 

Judas Iscariot, and I’ve been writing him

for months

but that isn’t what this poem is about.

 

drinking coffee and listening to the symphony

with projects that need attention all around.

at one time I thought I would stand while writing

to allow the body to sway into part of the meter.

but now I just sit here and type.

BANG BANG BANG

on the keyboard of a typewriter

a luddite in the 21st century

attracted buy the trappings of Steve Jobs innovations

but preferring to still use my old IBM

but that isn’t what this poem is about.

 

I’m trying to reach Judas Iscariot through song

to no avail, through prayer

but I don’t believe.

a hard poem to write and little is known

so I make it up and type on

BANG BANG BANG

really striking the keys though it makes no difference

to the imprint on the paper

but that isn’t what this poem is about.

 

later today I will rewrite this poem into my iMac

computer that’s sitting twenty feet away

and wonder why I didn’t write it there in the first place

but I know I know I know

and I will sit here again tomorrow and do the same thing

with coffee, symphony music and projects all around

that need attention that they will not receive.

but that isn’t what this poem is about.

 

what is this poem about?

I don’t know.

February 12, 2013

Sylvia – parts 1 and 2

by jhon baker

Sylvia part 1

I listen to your voice,
late November,

reliving a moment long
worn away by time’s
passing
and memory.

did you mean to see it out,
taste of poison
fruits? or come
back.
all questions lingering
and a scar,
a very real scar,
traces round our heart,

I’ll show you if you come to see.
no charge,
no heart beats like ours

out of the ash, we sift
and sift, but find
no more

no phoenix burning
the midnight air.

 

Suicide – Sylvia part two

February, 11 2013
you are gone today
fifty years gone
left,
without a word
after
a lifetime of words
each neatly arranged
each carefully reviewed
a life meticulously considered
but
you no longer suffer
and
your pain ended

I wonder what your last words were
who they were to
a goodbye and kissing your children
perhaps
a goodbye and that is all

how are we to mourn
each passing hour
is a passing day
and this just another
poem
about your death
which you couldn’t write
anymore

you staggered
and saw it out
confessional until the last
asleep
on a pillow
the sun rising to meet its
worshiper.

 

– Hoc Scripsi

December 26, 2012

post holiday lego building

by jhon baker

Listening to The Black Keys and sitting with my son while he builds his Lego Teenage Mutant Turtle sets, earlier I built one of my own Lego sets. Big Ben. As an adult there is still the ever burning love for Lego.

The main concern after holidays is where to put all the new stuff – in my case it isn’t hard as I got clothes I needed, a few seasons of my favorite television show and a lot of books – but for the boy, more toys means a need to clear out space and think about donating things he has aged out of.

There is really nothing I have to say here. I am mostly out of the depression that lasted beyond my ability to handle – four months of complete darkness preceded by decent creative impulses and followed by a stiff climb out and a slight return to forms of creativity. I have started several poems and am thinking my way though the basic outline of a novel/memoir with embellishments and the ability to deny anything – This story is based on realish events and the people have altered names and are realish representations of the folks that they are modeled after – liberties will be taken where I do not want to relive certain things and where the truth is too strange to be believed. Nothing will be cranked up beyond reality because reality itself is often itself unbelievable. If I write it as fiction I can always deny that the hero of the tome is myself and as I’ve often said of poetry…

– never confuse the narrator of the poem with its author –

sound advice.

I think John Berryman said it first or best – I know it wasn’t my brain to come up with it and once I had heard the valuable teaching I was free then to really create. Some constraints are good and some work against you like good friends who never want us to become successful.

I was going to put a poem here but I think I’ll post twice instead.  – Jhon

July 3, 2012

redacted dreaming

by jhon baker

So if I don’t write something here soon the blog might wither and die like so many flowers and friendships.

Today I couldn’t bring myself from the cozy of bedroom into the heat of the day until noon… I’ve redacted the part about my dreaming of…. and lets just say it was worth staying in bed for.

I’ve been working on poetry and while nothing has really come of it yet – I am still working on it. There are two long poems which elude me and a shorter one which is simply not progressing the way it ought.

So I am sitting outside, away from my typewriter, sweating and drinking hot coffee – smoking cigarettes and waiting for the squirrels to be entertaining. Natures clown troupe #2243.

the plane overhead does not know I am trying to listen to Allen Ginsberg

but I am cursing it anyway

Too hot to ride my motorcycle today and nowhere to ride to. It isn’t Texas hot but mid-west hot and no rain in the forecast.

Too hot to sit outside (where I am) and contemplate the meaning of withering flowers.

This is golden fleeced loveliness.

April 19, 2012

post

by jhon baker

to post or not to post – that is the question. Or rather the question is energy and ideas – an abundance of those and I’d be posting like I use to.

My nephew is going through his own ennui with posting and it reminded me that I haven’t had an original post in some time. So I thought I would post nothing today just so the three of you know that I am breathing.

I’ve had a few conversations on the subject of Haiku poetry and its form lately. Those of us in the know and out of school tend toward avoiding the 5-7-5 American grade school requirement but adhere to the guide of what each line ought to represent.

first line – kigo – the seasonal reference – very important

second line – the moment as it is

third line – the satori or ah ha moment.

 

This is freeing and simultaneously restricting as one should always avoid the obvious…

mid spring

writing a haiku

and it is bad

 

– but rather –

 

cherry blossoms

decayed and floating

whose illusion?

 

it isn’t much better but you get the idea.

On poetry and Haiku – it isn’t well hidden that I regard the vast majority of poetry to be total crap that should have never graced the page it was written on but maybe less well known is that I hate 99% of Haiku. Yes, I am an opinionated bastard. I should add that I believe that everyone who wants to write poetry ought to but not share it with the world until they’ve been doing it long enough to know that most of it is crap – I call this taste. Haiku is different, a little. You should wait to share it with others until you have written 10,000 of them. I’ve written well over that but have only ever shared about 20 – and those I question.

Art is for the creator when done and kept private – art is done for the creator only in the act of creation, when we wear the laurel wreath. After it is no longer the creators and has been co-opted by the masses. If you know what you have done is good then you know it wasn’t done by you anyway. The mistakes are all ours, everything else belongs to someone else.

I am not religious but an atheist. So this may confuse the three of you reading this. I’m just not egotistical enough to think the good lines are mine alone.

 

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