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So...Does this guy know everything (for Ang)

T

twelveoone

ground zero
Joined
Mar 13, 2004
Posts
5,882
I was bored going though the WickedEve poems (whom I miss) and took a side trip to
byjthserra©
who has more poems than... well that doesn't matter...most of them are pretty good found one for you Ang.

Vachel Lindsay (sonnet)

Vachel Lindsay
(1879-1931)

Naive, I fell, a captive to your verse:
There lost within the native tribal beat
The rolling power of your poem immersed
Me in your singeing, boiling broth replete.

Vachel, how could I know what you had faced?
The strange and heavy burden you had borne?
The bitter light and darkness you embraced
Abandoned you, to leave your spirit worn.

So as "The Congo's echoed rhythms failed
The distant jungle's drums fell quickly dim.
While from your napkin Harlem's Langston sailed
When Lincoln walked you mourned the night with him:

As midnight called you saw the nation's dead
But failing light, you chose your dark instead
 
for you VR

Winter Moon (Sedoka)

byjthserra©

Winter Moon (Sedoka)

Winter moon
its voiceless echo
whitens the cold sky

a woman
her frozen whispers
numb my fingertips

Check out the comments. I never heard of this form, so I looked it up, he's right. Nobody uses it much, so it is not set it stone.
 
twelveoone said:
I was bored going though the WickedEve poems (whom I miss) and took a side trip to
byjthserra©
who has more poems than... well that doesn't matter...most of them are pretty good found one for you Ang.

Vachel Lindsay (sonnet)

Vachel Lindsay
(1879-1931)

Naive, I fell, a captive to your verse:
There lost within the native tribal beat
The rolling power of your poem immersed
Me in your singeing, boiling broth replete.

Vachel, how could I know what you had faced?
The strange and heavy burden you had borne?
The bitter light and darkness you embraced
Abandoned you, to leave your spirit worn.

So as "The Congo's echoed rhythms failed
The distant jungle's drums fell quickly dim.
While from your napkin Harlem's Langston sailed
When Lincoln walked you mourned the night with him:

As midnight called you saw the nation's dead
But failing light, you chose your dark instead
Click to expand...

Well now you see that I'm not the only one to use the term. Me, jthserra, Joseph Conrad and a whole bunch of jazz folk.

It's a wonderful sonnet, but then jthserra is always a pleasure to read.

:rose:

PS Oh! I've just remembered that I have another poem that references Congo Square.

Night Tripper
byAngeline©

Doctor John croons gris gris
in urban bourbon growls,
and gumbo yaya yowls.
He knows Mama Roo,
queen of the little red wagon.
He conjures her, calls her
from old St. Louis 1
till she rises past the crypts
in steamy air that creeps
to grip you in her
foggy bones.

Some old haints came
Nawlins way, riding west
on smoke of burning candles,
riding west on Papa Legba
into coffee-scented Congo Square.

Ghosts beat rhythm
into dust forever
making mojo there.

The gift of blues
comes wrapped in tears
birthed in pain the ache
where art and magic mix
in New World griot voices,
in ancient tales reclaimed.

Buddy, Bunk, Bechet,
Oliver and Louie, too.
You know what I mean,
specka bean?

Such a long and raucous night.
The beads, the feathers,
oh heat, oh crawdaddy spirit
offering.

:)
 
Angeline said:
Well now you see that I'm not the only one to use the term. Me, jthserra, Joseph Conrad and a whole bunch of jazz folk.

It's a wonderful sonnet, but then jthserra is always a pleasure to read.

:rose:

PS Oh! I've just remembered that I have another poem that references Congo Square.

Night Tripper
byAngeline©

Doctor John croons gris gris
in urban bourbon growls,
and gumbo yaya yowls.
He knows Mama Roo,
queen of the little red wagon.
He conjures her, calls her
from old St. Louis 1
till she rises past the crypts
in steamy air that creeps
to grip you in her
foggy bones.

Some old haints came
Nawlins way, riding west
on smoke of burning candles,
riding west on Papa Legba
into coffee-scented Congo Square.

Ghosts beat rhythm
into dust forever
making mojo there.

The gift of blues
comes wrapped in tears
birthed in pain the ache
where art and magic mix
in New World griot voices,
in ancient tales reclaimed.

Buddy, Bunk, Bechet,
Oliver and Louie, too.
You know what I mean,
specka bean?

Such a long and raucous night.
The beads, the feathers,
oh heat, oh crawdaddy spirit
offering.

:)
Click to expand...

I think your's has more of the beat. Cracked me up when I found it. You know he has a kill bill pantuom?
 
for you UYS

A Clay without Man (triolet)
A Clay without Man (triolet)
byjthserra©

Pressed to form, a clay without man
choreographed in strange ballet:
from Your fingers it all began,
pressed to form, a clay without man.
In the stained pulse of earth You ran
faceless, voiceless to yesterday,
pressed to form, a clay without man
choreographed in strange ballet.

Alright I'm not commenting, even the great...well maybe..
I guess he ran through the whole god damn book of forms, and went looking for others.
 
twelveoone said:
I think your's has more of the beat. Cracked me up when I found it. You know he has a kill bill pantuom?
Click to expand...

I did not know that but it doesn't surprise me. One of my jazz favorites, the late great drummer for the Count Basie band, Papa Jo Jones, had a thing he'd say about certain drummers who are very talented: something along the lines of "if a fly landed on a piece of paper he'd play it." Jthserra is sort of the equivalent of that with poetry, imo. The guy can take on any subject, any form and do it justice.
 
Angeline said:
I did not know that but it doesn't surprise me. One of my jazz favorites, the late great drummer for the Count Basie band, Papa Jo Jones, had a thing he'd say about certain drummers who are very talented: something along the lines of "if a fly landed on a piece of paper he'd play it." Jthserra is sort of the equivalent of that with poetry, imo. The guy can take on any subject, any form and do it justice.
Click to expand...
Well, I always despised the American haiku, he comes closest to the Japanese. And really the triolet wasn't bad.
You should check out his A poem, that may have been a Bad Idea. I don't think he moved on to B.:rose::rose::rose:
gotta go.
 
twelveoone said:
Well, I always despised the American haiku, he comes closest to the Japanese. And really the triolet wasn't bad.
You should check out his A poem, that may have been a Bad Idea. I don't think he moved on to B.:rose::rose::rose:
gotta go.
Click to expand...

I will.

Sweet dreams, my friend. :rose:
 
twelveoone said:
Winter Moon (Sedoka)

byjthserra©

Winter Moon (Sedoka)

Winter moon
its voiceless echo
whitens the cold sky

a woman
her frozen whispers
numb my fingertips

Check out the comments. I never heard of this form, so I looked it up, he's right. Nobody uses it much, so it is not set it stone.
Click to expand...

I love this poem. I had heard of the form but not much. I have been trying to master each Japanese form in turn. I'll put this one on my list. I found this article on Sedoka if anyone is interested and I agree with the writer about the form. This individual's take seems consistent with Japanese ideas on these matters.

If you like this poem Twelve, you should investigate some traditional Japanese tanka. I think you'd love them. I love haiku as a form but I spend more time with English language haiku because to write the form well, you kind of need to get your ear in and translations don't cut it. Same with the tanka. As I have said before, I believe English haiku and Japanese haiku to be two separate animals, tanka however has so much in common with English language poetry, that if you read the two side by side, they are much more similar.
 
I should point out too that for these poems to approach the same as their Japanese counterparts, the syllable count should actually be 3-5-5 3-5-5; this accounts for the difference between English syllables and the sound units Japanese writers count.
 
ah, some wonderful poetry from this person. the few of their's i have come across always always 'spoke'. thanks for posting these and the links, guys.
 
twelveoone said:
A Clay without Man (triolet)
A Clay without Man (triolet)
byjthserra©

Pressed to form, a clay without man
choreographed in strange ballet:
from Your fingers it all began,
pressed to form, a clay without man.
In the stained pulse of earth You ran
faceless, voiceless to yesterday,
pressed to form, a clay without man
choreographed in strange ballet.

Alright I'm not commenting, even the great...well maybe..
I guess he ran through the whole god damn book of forms, and went looking for others.
Click to expand...


How nice of you to think of me thank you so much, bits of my life are at an all time low at the moment, so I've tended to stay away from here in case I bit somebody's head off and regretted it later
 
UnderYourSpell said:
How nice of you to think of me thank you so much, bits of my life are at an all time low at the moment, so I've tended to stay away from here in case I bit somebody's head off and regretted it later
Click to expand...
we need more of that...

but I am sorry to hear about your life being low.
 
UnderYourSpell said:
Not quite lol more like THIS or maybe even THAT
Click to expand...

And I

Live at thee Table

are you sure?

Alright, I liked this better than that, they both got fivrs. That looked a little too prosy. Which is why I decided I would improve it with the help of Joe Strummer. Who also confirmed that you never did play with the Clash, but thinks ypu were in XTC, is that true?
 
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