Poetry Challenge: Colbert, Pinsky and 14th century Japan?

[annaswirls]

Inspired by THIS thread, the hilarious video which includes the shameless self promotion of post-poet laureat Robert Pinsky to take his poem to #1 in America


Pinsky states that his poem Samurai Song was inspired by a reading he heard of a 14th century Japanese form that follows the pattern...

when I this, I that
when I this, I that




Challenge:
Write your own "Song" in your own voice, but following the theme of

when I this I that.....

here is Pinsky's for a bit of inspiration. I bet somewhere online you can hear him read it.

~AS


Samurai Song
by Robert Pinsky

When I had no roof I made
Audacity my roof. When I had
No supper my eyes dined.

When I had no eyes I listened.
When I had no ears I thought.
When I had no thought I waited.

When I had no father I made
Care my father. When I had
No mother I embraced order.

When I had no friend I made
Quiet my friend. When I had no
Enemy I opposed my body.

When I had no temple I made
My voice my temple. I have
No priest, my tongue is my choir.

When I have no means fortune
Is my means. When I have
Nothing, death will be my fortune.

Need is my tactic, detachment
Is my strategy. When I had
No lover I courted my sleep.

 

[annaswirls]

*after hearing him, I mis-remembered-- thought he said he had copied the form of a Persian poet, I imagined myself going out to find the Persian poet he copied telling him about the nice reception after the poetry reading with all of the middle aged ladies in dresses and shy coed poets, red punch and the lemon confections and lines of people waiting to get Pinsky's autograph.

When I sing for my supper, You skip to*dessert

When I heard how you copied the Persian poet,
I copied you. When I copied you
I developed a slow leak
in my passenger’s side.
We coasted along the rumble strip
selling autographs and lemon confections.

When I used the last of the ink and sugar
I melted the sand into sun spark prisms
that led us to our pot of gold.
When I bought back my voice
off the last barrow in a Persian market

I sang out Of Jewels and Horses!
For God, Mammon and Country!
And the poet-merchant replied
When I this, I that.
When I this, I that

and I told him a three time poet laureate
from the New World wanted to say hello,
thanks for the Samuari’s Song,
lemon bars, carbonated fruit punch, tea.

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

I had to follow the tangled threads back to the Colbert Report. Now I'm exhausted. Interesting challenge Ms Swirls.

 

[Liar]

When I search for misplaced keys

When I search for misplaced keys
stuck in lint land under a bulging
wallet (reciepts and business cards,
but not a single coin) in too tight
a pocket, I hear my pulse step up
to the edge and knock on temples
for no reason. When I spit curses
at my hand for trembling and at my
wavering voice, I hear a proverbial
cancer gnaw chunks of my identity.

But erect and alert I project the
monilith of a man, a Stonehedge
ethos for your pistis to anchor.

When I take ten steps, and ten
back again and again to triple check
a bolt locked door, when I laugh
at all the wrong places, when
my feet welds themself to asphalt
while I sceam at myself to recall
where I am, where I was going...

you'll see black shade reflections,
bleach white confidence bled into
nonchalant pose, and this cell
phone conversation script charade
to keep any pity gaze at bay.

 

[FifthFlower]

Eating

Just when I saw you eating food,
I saw your skin. It was as weak
As what you ate. It tasted good,
And at some end we all are meek.

 

[darkerdreamer]

When I went hungry, I stole my bread.
When I filled my emptiness with the loaf,
I felt no remorse.

When I was full enough to think,
I tried to regret my actions, and I failed.

 

[fcdc]

This just popped up, took about 20min to write. I have no idea whether it's good or bad, and I hope the Biblical allusions aren't too forced. I'm iffy on the title too. It's going on morning here, so don't expect quality, but:

-----

'An Autumn Dream'

When I woke, I saw you sleeping,
underneath the apple tree.
Autumn harvest brought a reaping,
knowledge spread afar and free.

When I slept, I dreamed of weeping,
all the sobs of bad crop years.
Cider pressed, its apple sweepings
scattered on the floor with tears.

When I dreamed, I saw the Garden,
knowledge-tree cut at the root.
Apples lay, alone and hardened;
reason lay asleep and mute.

When I woke, I asked your pardon;
picking apples from the grove,
we then picnicked in the warm glen,
rich as kings with fall's ripe trove.

-----

Suggestions are welcomed, as is a better title. The wording and meter are strict, so not easily fixed, but if anyone has any ideas, fire away!