reading a rupi kaur poem is
probably the most heart-breaking
"thing" in the morning -
on the play store bestseller list:
because afterwards
a sylvia plath poem:
somehow isn't -
somehow she managed
to pluck at a geisha garden
and has become all porcelain all
crystalline ivory & frailty...
but that's not about my reading
habits in the morning...
it's more... more about...
how "we" could get away with
writing all our onomatopoeias in
katakana:
unless of course
there's the "problem" of C, L, U, Q / CK...
that's hooves on cobweb streets
trotting...
nonetheless:
i give you
マンナ ダンナ
(manna danna)
i guess: imitation
games of a madonna
in a brothel -
which is not a brothel...
and everyone's favourite
Berlusconi's take on
castanets & maracas i.e.
ぼんご ボンゴ
otherwise a narrative in three parts:
a. my grandfather died
b. i stopped drinking
c1. and i started walking marathons
c2. from 118kg
down to 106.5kg
circa 2 months...
otherwise a further narrative of:
not because i'll gladly go into
the necropolis with a bouquet
of fake carnations / chamomiles...
although "in manus tuas" i could
sit crow esque pensive,
hunched: a shadow for a globe of
atlas (etc.)
and prod that fickle
creature that's memory in vain...
thereby making love
sound like a breaking
of an accordion...
or i could like i already have
"play a game" of ここ / そこ
ソコ / ココオ
no necropolis...
just the remains of a forest...
bedfords park...
a healthy stick for the purpose
of knocking on trees...
an dry-white skull-yellow-morbid
obelisk - i.e. a dead tree...
homage - three times:
thunck-plonk-pluckpug
no echo...
thung-plong-plugpuck...
a minute of silence...
evidently...
in searching of meaning:
beyond in havering county park
horses grazing -
"once upon a time"
they'd be work horses on the till
of the land...
now sometimes saddled...
not even bothered to gallop...
while we're still...
under the tyranny of
the thumb...
or thereby some "relief"...
perhaps just walking through
east london toward st. paul's
seeing so many pilgrims (i.e.
that's what i'd call lunatics)
talking to pigeons
at stratford in
the morning...
one might do what i do
teasing augury -
notably because of the crows,
notably because of swallows;
at least for the former -
when hades stirs -
and a yawn breaks
rank from the pits of crunch &
harrowing tooth domino...
there's me procrastinating
before the altar of a name, date(s)
but no epitaph...
or there's me making said
pilgrimage to a dead tree obelisk
with a healthy stick in hand...
knocking three times...
perhaps to let the forest know
i'm there, i.e. "here"...
alas... exasperation is not:
a need for "haiku"... it's also not
some snobbery when...
you're actually not given much to
"work" with e.g. -cemetery
better a fascination with
japanese text...
e.g. 緑 (green)
ミドリ
/ hiragana is probably a misnomer
みどり
/ why wouldn't green be in kanji?
but how midori:
either squiggly or squint-
-ting
squin'
T'ing
is not in either katana / hiragana
set up the following primer, braille:
⠛⠗⠑⠑⠝
⠍⠊
⠙⠕
⠗⠊ (hangeul esque)
is probably the only latin equivalent
i'd ever make a comparison with;
p.s. ⠝ braille's N
ל - a hebrew L"ament"...
at least it's more than a bothersome
post-colonial rhyming sleaze & scheme
or a wannabe haiku /
writing toward hiatus;
or a fucking ron padgett prose poem
about drinking coffee...
for that matter: any poem about
drinking coffee;
sober twats
morning gits, insufferable loved up 'toons.
-
Author:
conradconrad (
Offline) - Published: December 30th, 2020 06:27
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 36
Offline)
Comments4
Have a Happy New Year. Feed the birds.
happy new year to you too.
Really interesting poem. Looks like MyPoeticSide supports kana, and in one instance, kanji. I've managed to post short text in pointed Hebrew, Farsi, and Russian, and seen someone else post in Devanāgarí (probably Hindi). Looks like it's got Unicode fully enabled.
Looks like you had some trouble getting it to justify the kana lines correctly.
Had to look up who Rupi Kaur is. I know a couple of people on Facebook who are getting their poems read that way.
You belong to a distinct minority on MyPoeticSide who know what a poem is.
How do I contact an administrator? I want to do a revision of the bio on one of the individual poets' pages, Aaron Southwick, who just happens to be my great-grandfather. Most of this page's material is cribbed from a bio I posted on the Web about 15 years ago.
i've found that most sites do support kana: the problem comes with kanji / hanja... russian is supported as much as greek - and any "problems" with hebrew is only a right to left ctrl c/p nuisance... fiddly but nonetheless easily overcome: good luck writing a hebrew vowel. - i have absolutely no idea how you would get in contact with an admin. as an experiment: 人 (ヒト) man - hito, 木 (キ) tree - ki, 火 (ヒ) fire - hi... well, not much of an experiment...
Keat's wrote to Fanny Brawne: 'if I had had time'...
as I - write to you: 'if I had had, even an iota of your seemingly endless pool of knowledge and unquestionable intellect'...
still, we play the hands we're dealt, I'll read dear Sylvia and 'get along' with those scribbled imitations of 'empathy rhymes',
you dine with those poetic Olympiads of Milton and Gertrude etc.
mercifully: room enough for us all at the foot of their pantheon table...
Happy New Year dear Poet (unless you don't like being wished 'Happy' anything that is, in which case: simply, stay safe)
thanks for sharing!
is this how i'll begin to cower, malnutrition myself & perform other grander ploys of discomfort when i might hear a compliment? i can only hope this comes from a 1on1 / 1to1 sort of scenario - given that no one is readily available to ditto you with support... i find any sort of celebration that i'm not part the antonym of whatever heidegger's dasein was supposed to mean... it's 13 minutes past 11pm it's 47 minutes to midnight come 2nd of january and i've just found... slowdive: slowdive (2017 full album)... happy... let's just stay curiously pseudo-vegan and quasi-sort-of-of-everything-else-in-between-and-besides-us... i'll aim at finding curiosity and contentment... i'll leave the holy grail of happiness to be bound to a sparrow's song: praise the wintry cold... all that and none of it too literally... never too literally.... never with a verb suffix to everything; hence my suggestion of what i'm listening to.
as 1on1, as my truth allows or more pertinently: as that Truth you permit yourself to trust-(in) - however tepidly,
I too like to keep it simple, merely playing QWERTY thought's to match my intuitive beats, never deigning to venture near language's haughty ideal's of heidegger-'esque' vehemence,
''Tell me how you read and I'll tell you who you are.' he stated so forcefully, (perhaps he forgot those fated to read phonetically - one letter at a time, from his vaunted visage of imperialised hypocrisy) but I digress too easily, maybe ADHD...
well dear 'all-knowing' great mind's: I - read for myself, to learn how to hear my own thoughts clearly and trust in my mantra of acceptance: 'that this Ephemeral life we've been gifted, however unfair or miniscule it may seem: is Enough for me and so it shall remain, because I Choose it to be and that - to me, is Freedom's veracity - distilled, within our limitation's of accessible transparency',
sadly, being literal - too often, is deemed as all-things 'cringe' and real in this warped 'abstract worshipping' (mindset) Time's we exist in, so I apologise if I read too much into mere words
(forgive me for desecrating your comment section with my opinionated self-importance, please feel free to ignore or delete - I'll understand completely)
I copy-and-pasted pointed Hebrew (Hebrew with vowels) successfully when I posted "Hosea".
what's THETA and PHI... OMICRON and OMEGA... ETA and EPSILON... i'm not willing to ask... if i'm asking... don't suppose i'm inclined to have to have to have to have to to have had to have had too... supposed tow... my best... spaghetti esque gesture...
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