Ode to a Comma

As one like you can surely tell,
a poet uses new and old words quite well

Tho' this is not about the poet that is me
'Tis a tribute to a little mark-you'll see

Of course reading certain words can make magic
Or their arrangement can prove to be quite tragic

Placed in such precarious ways
deciphering both what and how it says

since this symbolic form of communication
is not simply a mere matter of translation

Language is omnisciently living
Poetry is an expression of giving

Words in their proper form and place
Dependent on others, used in a certain case

But the power of a quiet comma-
(O The sheer drama!)

It's an Order, telling you to wait-
hanging below the surface, like dangling bait

(If you may wonder why can't we use more than one
in a row, it's the sound of panting after a run
that is how that's done
and to read that would be fun
for both nary and no one)

Admit it, even a serial comma sounds a bit scary
it has me shaking in my Oxfords' a fright wary

'Tis all this blatant punctuation abuse
(O all the overt dis-obeyance and misuse!)

Yet, let us never forget
we owe the comma a great debt

For the comma controls and catches and releases your breath
It's diligent appearance delays the death

of a single, stretched and solitary sentence
that goes on and on with a vacuous vengeance.



I came across this article "Going, Going, And Gone?" by Linda Holmes on NPR after writing this poem-actually, while posting it, and found it to be thoroughly a very entertaining read! Witty, refreshingly honest and literally, no, poetically well written.  

Image By Historic American Engineering Record, Tim Whitely "Trolling illustration"[Public domain or Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Parades in March

The sun rises

as the rain 

falls

harder

breaking the dawn

with angry gray

For-

To:

day

Image By Jon Sullivan [Public domain] "Palm trees in the morning", via Wikimedia Commons. 

Eyeless in Gaza PII: The Peaces of the Pi per Aldous Huxley

The following is a passage cited from the novel "Eyeless in Gaza", by Aldous Huxley (p.471,72) which I have also (see PI) converted into a poem for its natural prosaic eloquence on immaterial matters such as attempting to describe "peace".

United in peace.
In peace,
he repeated,
in peace, in Peace.
In the depth of every mind,
Peace
The same space for all,
continuous between
mind and mind
At the surface,
the separate waves,
the whirlpools, the spray;
but below them
the continuous and undifferentiated expanse of the sea,
becoming calmer
as it
deepens,
till at last there is an absolute stillness...

Dark peace
in the depths.

A dark peace
that is the same for all who can
descend
to
it.

Peace, that by a strange paradox
is the substance and source of the storm at the surface.

Born of peace,
the waves yet destroy peace; destroy it,
but are necessary;
for without the storm
on the surface
there would be no existence,
no knowledge of goodness,
no effort to allay the leaping frenzy of evil,
no rediscovery of the underlying calm,
no realization that
the substance of the frenzy,
is the same as
the substance of Peace.
Frenzy of evil and separation.
In Peace there is Unity.
Unity with other lives.
Unity with all Being.

Freedom from Truth.
The truth of unity.

Peace in the profound subaqueous night,
Peace in this silence,
this still emptiness
where there is no more time,
where there are no more images,
no more words...


Image of painting by Marcus Larson (1825-1864) "Stormy Sea" (1857) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Eyeless in Gaza PI: The Theoretical Unity of Aldous Huxley

"8th Root of Unity"

Image By MarekSchmidt (Own work) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

The following is a passage cited from the novel "Eyeless in Gaza", by Aldous Huxley (p.467,68) which I have converted into a poem for its elegance in deciphering the properties, proportions, perspective(s) on the concept of Unity (as a whole/hole). 

The unity of life.

Unity demonstrated even in the destruction of one life by another.

Life and all being are one.

Otherwise

No living thing could derive sustenance

from another 

Or from the unliving substances 

around it.

One

(even in destruction),

One

(in spite of separation).

Each organism is unique.

Unique and yet

United

with all other organisms

in the sameness of its ultimate parts;

Unique above

a substratum of mental identity.

Identity and Interchangeableness

of Love, Trust, Courage.

Fearless affection 

restores the lunatic to sanity,

transforms the hostile savage into a friend,

tames the wild animal.

The mental pattern of Love 

can be transferred from one mind to another

and still

retain its virtue...

And not only Love,

but Hate as well:

not only Trust, but suspicion;

not only kindness, generosity and Courage,

but also

malevolence and greed and fear.

Reality of unity,

but equal reality of division-

greater reality, indeed,

of division.

The Cat and the Cow: The Lion and the Bull

The power of prediction
no longer resides
in mystical lands

The art of contradiction
where truth often hides
with red hands

One guess is good
a stab in the dark
betting it all on black
the sun will be back
                                tomorrow

Then there are facts
seasons in tidy groups
Again with the loitering Indians
                                  of Summer

We map the lines
plot blocks of time
to build with, tiny day squares
                                  not one cloud cares

What month is it now
Does the sky show us how
Where to get where we
                                  should be by now

A stampede of March storms in
lions guard the gate
unable to keep the thunder and rain
                                   high and away

Moody March cedes to the Sun
with a Spring in her step
Leo moves over after having his
                                    pray fun

Bleating lambs in cowardly shear
flocked in wool coats
Bah-hing about the verdant green grass
                                     over there

Aprils cup is too full
Slushing, spilling about into stream
slurping the porous sky

Is there a pattern
Do you see one
Is it almost summer

Even the water moves
the matador toward Taurus
trapped in the ring, circle, cycle
                                          of seasonal bull.

                           

Feature image by By Desptop (Own work), Macedonian Lion [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Leave a light on

Haiku III
Enlightenment glows
brightest in dimly lit rooms
refracting in-sight.














Pruszkowski "Falling Star" via Wikimedia Commons

Fishin' Ain't Catchin'

Here's a silly story 'bout
somethin' I gone did quite a while ago
that was un poco-No!
Mucho loco!
I tried to try on another state
as though it were up to me
deciding my fate
You see, sometimes I feel restless
like I'm always late

Taking only what I could fit
I rode the black steed
like that Don Quixote that many read
I was headed for Texas
on a trail for new exes
So cliche,
to put it that way
but I was looking for my soul mate

Holy Longhorns that state is so BIG!
and those hairdos ain't no wig
either way
it was plain as day
I ain't from around those parts
of achy breaky hearts
but I shore did get the hang
of trying on some Southern twang
an essential part of wearing the state

A church on every street
BBQ's and malls, all to escape the heat
But I have a thing for a handsome horse
I stayed on golf course
started a divorce
and let life take its course
and there were lots of miniature deer
running rampant like my timid fear
caught in the headlights of fate

My feet hurt after not too long
Only eight months, enough to see the seasons
and gather my reasons
affecting my gate
those boots don't fit me
And from my own slang
anyone could plainly see
This little Jane Doe
needed to get to walkin' and go
on living it couldn't wait

There's loyalty in love
not a necessity but is necessarily
better, letting the butterfly be
Every place
like a profile has a certain face
as happens to be my case
without wearing a mask
life lived honestly is an arduous task
just like heat and hate

Fondly I think and remiss
about the temporary bliss
of being someone else
seeking desperately
a cowboy in boots with a sweet southern drawl
a sprawling ranch estate, a man that calls me "doll"
Dressing up is fun at any age
leaving the comfort of your cage
Fixin' to find
a fish in a lake
hookin' myself as the bait
but I got no more patience to wait
I'm done dallying in this state
I was running late
on catching up with my fate
dwelling in my hometown state.


Image of painting by By Stanley L. Wood (1866-1928) (http://www.wild-west-art.org/Texas-Cowboy.html) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.