The Book of the Irish Bulls – On Sale Now
A poem and an update
“Pastel” by yours truly
He said she was dressed in pastel
Like Florida evening sky.
Light blue, white, and pink.
“Her moments, my moments.”
Why, oh why?
So pretty it makes you wink.
Me think.
An update
Still trying to get back lo the new novella in earnest, but it can be difficult.
On Mondays
“Tell me why I don.t like Mondays?”
It is a repeated line from a post-punk song by a group headed by Bob Geldof in the 1980s. Geldof was known for trying to help starving Africans with revenue from the Live Aid concert.
I thought Geldof was good as the lead actor in Pink Floyd’s combination of music and movie “The Wall.” He plays a psychologically tortured pop singer on tour. I hear he slightly mutilated himself for the role.
Anyway Monday is the start of the work week for many. There’s a line from the comedy “Office Space” to the effect, “Someone’s got a case of the Mondays.” Ha.
On Mass and a brief poem
The pastor spoke today about the feast of the Epiphany which I think has to do with the recognition by three wise-men visitors to Christ’s birthplace of the importance of Jesus’s birth. James Joyce used the word epiphany for literary meaning. I am not an expert on this but think epiphany has to do with profound meaning. One grad school professor said don’t strive for profundity; let it come to you.
“Sky” by yours truly
A band of white sky just over distant foothills,
Then above a vast expanse
Of cloudless blue and a blinding sun.
It is the “dead of winter.”
“You’re not a plank, just a splinter!”
But fairly warm today.
Still wear a coat and cap.
Comment and a brief poem
“You know you can still get diabetes from zero-sugar Coke. The non-sugar additives in it…”
“Oh, this world is so cruel! Maybe I should go back to coffee.”
“Cloud” by yours truly
Still white clouds over a foothill.
Not moving and may never will
Like memory that won’t go
And may never will.
Four brief poems
“Names” by yours truly
At first you might not remember their names at all.
Then the last name comes back slowly.
Later comes the first.
Old friends, bitter ends.
Ill portends.
“Dream” by yours truly
Just dreamt I was married to Lauren Bacall.
That is all.
“Ghost” by yours truly
Ghost:
The one you want most.
They say you could be toast,
But please await the host.
“Careful” by yours truly.
” Be careful E—–.
The authorities are reading and listening to us.”
“Yes, as you may know more well, thus Spake George Orwell.”
His Dad had a saying about the Internet:
“There is nothing good on that.”
So he sat in his living room with a book, a reading lamp, and some booze.
Two poems and a quote
“Red” by yours truly
Red clouds over low horizon this morning.
Over foothills nearby, a bit surprising.
They remind me of the 1980s movie “Red Dawn”
That helped inspire my action fiction
“Invasions: A Novella of Military Conflict.”
World War Me.
“Puppy” by yours truly
My sister called first love
In adolescence “puppy love.”
A woman dated in my 30s
Said her Mom nick-named her Puppy.
She almost began crying while saying it.
A para-quote
I don’t have the exact quote now, but W.B. Yeats wrote something like rhetoric is debate with others and poetry is debate with yourself.
—
Just two brief joke/ poems. Maybe something else later
“Hippo” by yours truly
My nickname is Camp,
And I still have a hippo- Camp-us
Albeit worse for the wear,
Like Ionesco’s “Rhinoceroses.”
“Puns-a-Lot” by yours truly
,”King Arthur, beware of Sir Puns-a-lot.
He has designs on your wife.”
“I shall take your good counsel.”
On reserve
The opening scene of “King Lear” is about the king dividing up his kingdom near death among three daughters, and ironically the one who loves him most won’t say it directly. One professor said of the play’s start is it shows the vainest thing in life is to demand to know how much someone loves you.
A poem and some comments,
“Snow” by yours truly
Small pellets of snow,
No regrets.
They almost seem plasticky.
But don’t sit outside, you see,
Or your rear end will get wet.
Go back inside
With no regret.
Comments
“I know some if not all people are tired of people hearing me talk about police brutality, but here is something about the topic.
On Mass and a new brief poem
The pastor spoke today about prayer in various forms. I do not do enough of it formally but think other things like good songs and written poetry can be similar to prayer.
A poem
“Schools” by yours truly
White and grey sky today
Over the foothills
And below the wills.
Schools of birds fly by
Through the cold.
I feel so old.
What can be learned from these schools?
Perhaps to fly.