Sunday, February 08, 2004
A no-Pebble Beach Limerick
A no-Pebble Beach Limerick
The beach was all sand not a pebble The golfing was just for the able My clubs bore the scars Of 19th hole bars And my aim was as fluent as Babel. - - - Honestly so inspired by the famous AT&T Pebble Beach Classic -that I would attibute it to my pen in wondrous consonance of mind with many golfers. (Though no one seemed anxious to answer the challenge of a starting verse.) |
Saturday, February 07, 2004
Mixed Verse II
MIXED VERSE IISalutaris HostiaBells in air and spreading skirts; Running round veranda; Hostia chokes out weeds and dirt; And weeding gard뭤ers cost ya! Looks nice against the lattice though. Salutaris Hostia * * * Hija Y La GrabadoraMi hija es una juegadora Pues vendo esa grabadora Porque ella juega la Copa De Mundo Y ella no gagna el segundo Si de ver la juega d'una hija Necessitas Televisa Pues yo voy la juega ahora Y graba la con grabadora! * * * De Hablar EspanolComo alguna apprenda de hablar; Es esta arreta que dura de borrar; Porque hablanta una lingue fundamente; No es facil couramente! * * * MORRELSWhile in the woods the other day Faire maiden beckoned me her way Excuse me miss, I do need this I'll not be here a'morrow. Sir goods I got, and I gots lots I'll leave you of your sorrel. But dear Miss, and don't insist I care more for your Morrels. Sir, Morrels I got and scruples too But till they're here, these ceps'll do? * * * |
Friday, February 06, 2004
Poetry Notation
Poems titled "Branded", "Bunkhouse Pondering" & "Competing" were composed Ferruary 6 2004. Touched by NPR's news item about the Cowboy poetry Festival http://www.npr.org/features/feature.php?wfId=1647559 Notes: Calves are rarely branded today with a hot iron on ranches - they are plastic tagged now . clipped onto an ear. "Bunkhouses' one guesses can be lonely & boring; and that poem "Bunkhouse Pandering" paints the image with a thought of a nearby bordello. In Nevada - they are legal, licensed & sometimes now called ranches. Competing references 'PBR' - the sport of professional bull riding. My 'time' on the bull may be hghly imaginative & generous All poetry on this site -composed by this blogger-SMC 02/06/04. |
Competing
Poets and Cowboys and Cowboys as Poets are heading for a mid-wintering in Elko Nevada for the 20th Cowboy Poetry Festival - news item prompted by today's NPR Morning Edtion. Link above for tickets & events. A poetic thought for the occasion CompetingWearing the same pants, the dungarees Belt slipped the last time. Brahma over a ton - grey and free. Ring on the circuit was the same. Hat was optional but dressed me 8 was my aim but 6?, Barely saw my face and back Curling a glove held rope Cutting in my fingers firmly Spare hand waved and climbed. See? Six for me - eight would not be. Not the cinched rope, just nearly My distraction the bull knew. Yee Yaw, off though a sault in air we Shared in sparkling dust and , we Heard the horn "That's All" - me That Brahma couldn't keep me A bull riding - PBR - me Sat the dirt too quietly. Editor's note: corrected 01/25/07 to make the time realistic, from 18 & 20 to 8 & 6 |
Branded & BunkKouse Ponders
BrandedWhite face weiner mooing Past smell of flesh and hair burning Ropes hung loose standing by Pens of steel gates manure Yells and hoof stomping Coralled Click Click Bar Coded Branded no more. - - - - Bunkhouse PonderingThe town was thirteen miles And his bunkhouse gave him piles. Lazy Heart's Ranch at a new moon Welcomed strangers starting noon Her sirens weren't to blame The line-up was the same. Not one new Lilly or Jill Joined that madam's hill Atop the rise, away a day A guest could make a stay For the look, and drink inside It's free to in and costs to ride. But that's miles to go, to seek For a line-up same's last week. |
Thursday, February 05, 2004
Sonnet To the Perennial Rule of Love
Love like ardor, moods that grow This verse favors one I know Kiss n’er me but that may be Time may hae her at my knee Nay she stand against my toes Poem shall win her, if not prose. For love gifts from, no one knows To presume is to suppose That one might be cupid bent To refrain keeps one, one’s gent! After all t'is more to gain By the courtings, waitings, pain. Some may savor the disfavor. But the choice’s Lady’s ... plain! ! |
Sonnet to Palladio
From the pane aglow Shown the maiden’s hair Round her face so fair Curls touched indigo. Could Palladio Understand the stare That the women bear Since that time ago Found Rome in Forum Need of glass and stone Makes homes decorum Forming fort its own T'is public larum Privacy’s a throne. |
Tuesday, February 03, 2004
The Sublime Leader
Sadness that we had Rarely heard the voice After his own choice Seeking his style Averting public eye Lest his rythym rile Their constant call, Why? Once he'd found an aim Lessening himself Shirking most acclaim Writing for the shelf As a leader would, From within the whole Journal for the rood. A tribute written on the occasion of the death of JFK Jr.
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Leader to equal He strove to compel A life he knew ere White skin made life fair A time stirred nation As nation moved law No race made station No palor deemed flaw. He savored not sword But taught that by word A man ended hate By process of State. Through city he trod. Man's equal through GOD.
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Monday, February 02, 2004
Sonnet to the Return of Love
Softly, sadly, sleeping love After making troth anon Will the centuries clamor? Can the fortunes cast fate so As to ripen, laden trove? Such that love makes envious, sun; Stutter songster, fool stammer; Brittle bouyant bough; to go A-full once more in hamlets' Discovery of that bliss swoon; Sweet, yet brighter than comet's Sparky tail; to jealous moon? While heaven in earthly mull Alleves ... bring Cupid's past to full. |
Sonnet aux Arts et Un Moment d'Amour
Souvenez le Corot, le une De Forêt de Fontainebeleau? Avec le faun et pipes de Pan? La femme en plein chevaux de brun Visage cherchant, trouvant quel qu'un? Et aussi la dame d'or de Klimt; Brocade d'argent, pave diamant? Des peintures de Klee, comme vitrine? Des dames de Schiele, crayon plein? L'embrace en marbre de Rodin? Son passion et très beau jardin? Tous des arts expriment l'amour; Reste avec mois un autre jour. Sculpteurs, peinteurs ont mode de taux De moi, aurais l'amour comme faut. |
Sonnet to Mujer Latina
Can the Latins spell belleza Like the English poets beauty? Should a woman CaribbeaÑa Make English no, si, espanol? Que America Latina? Via al norte del borde? And meet there, anglo hermana To compare, there, identity? Es asunta romantica? Or is it just the latin sol? Es e la egal familia? Or is it more d'amor y fe? That the manera de mujer Attracts no more than lady fair? |
Sonnet to the Tropical Beauty
A moon new shone her tropic mood Where she joined her love of rood By love of seaborne custom worn She chose her man by Triton's horn No face more fair to stay her eye Her tapi sarong, ginger lei Did take her brother by the nigh In rush of palm leaf to lanai Balm breeze renewed her mauka side. A love and passion old to eye No maid of sun brown, amber hair E'er loved less true by native tare. And gave her soul all a melee Smiling nightward to her Pelee |
Poetry Credits
Credits for SCOTTMCON Poetry
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The BARD is Reborne
Anniversary! ...This day borne Soeth by luck; few w'd scorne: Words of parson; books he'd hewn; History, poetry, prose, he'd learn. In love and strength, by moral too; Players'd read and rule whereso. E'vr ear and pence threw stage Romance; new wit! A poet's age! Whilst jesters, kings, and maidens faire Greet the gathered heads on air. In the round, and meadow greene Joints for fair seat; ales pale keen; Words which met the ear in rhyme! Envied birdsong, spoke to time. What name was wrought - n'er rent by sword? Whilst players spoke his gilded word? T'wasn't life returned the Lord; T'was the living of the Bard! Nae ..don't shirke; nor hasten way But Salud! ... Will Shakespeare's borne this day! Previously published by this poet at GeoCities & Lycos-Tripod and other websites. |