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Monthly Archives: October 2019

2019 1014 overgrown

No poem today, Friends, but a few “making of” notes. The prompt is Overgrown, and it made me think of a big baby, and then a baby impossibly big, and then the worst parenting chore made even worse. So I found royalty-free stock images of a seated, diapered baby and a forklift. (A crane would be more useful but less visually feasible.) Drew everything with a ultra-fine tipped pen that was running out of ink. Scanned and realized the midtones needed to be darkened to the fullest extent of the law, but that would destroy the pleasing midgray of the sketchbook surround, so I made a copy of the image and darkened it in MS Office 2010, then went to Paint and manually fixed up the lettering some and then copied the page area only, then while still in Paint opened the original and pasted the page interior, which effectively erased the wishy-washy original drawing but preserved the gentle background.

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Simple truth: tobacco destroys healthiness.

If you smoke, you have my sympathy. It is harder to kick the smoking habit than the heroin habit, hands down. But please try. It is a fine gift for your lovers, family, friends, and YOURSELF to stop.

There’s all kinds of help out there, too. You’ll be amazed what shows up when you do a search on “help with quitting.”

Love and good luck, my friend. And if you’re thinking “I will when I’m ready,” news flash: You are ready NOW.

20191012_195933The word “Privet” appears quite early on in the Harry Potter books, and since it was used for the name of a street, I for one never learned exactly what it meant. I looked it up recently and am freshly impressed by Rowling’s delicious slyness:

priv·et
/ˈprivit/
noun
  1. a shrub of the olive family, with small white heavily scented flowers and poisonous black berries.

It seems like that is a perfect name for a street for the Dirsleys to be living on.

My triple acrostic is “Saving Privet Dragon.” The odd net of the words to the poem are a silly attempt at that salvation. Sillier still was an earlier idea, which I’m sure has been done before, of dressing a dragon in a kimono for “Kimono Dragon.”

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The double acrostic for this one  is a single word, PHOEBE. Though Pho and EBE are standalones–Pho is a Vietnamese food, and EBE is Extraterrestrial Biological Entity–let’s ignore the halves and let them be Phoebe. And within this most minimal poem, snow nay be found.

Phoebe

Poet songstress was set free

Heaven knows her F.O.B

O the afterhaps we’ll see

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In my youth a playground had Monkey Bars, a Slide, and a Merry-Go-Round at minimum. When I started the 4th grade they added a painted length of sewer pipe that was nor fixed to the ground but could be rolled if kids pushed. Not long thereafter the playground makers anchored them. To the ground. I wonder if it was because a kid was crushed.

Miss & A Swing

Many a lad & lass/Is on a playground now/Soaring and not.  I/So miss the action/& the aerobatic feeling.

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One fateful day in the mid-1970s I had the extraordinary privilege of being in the same room with both Ansel Adams and Georgia O’Keeffe. They were in Tucson, where I was a student at the University of Arizona, for the opening of the U of A’s Center for Creative Photography. And they were attending a meet&greet in the lobby of the campus’s Museum of Art, right next door to the Art Building, where I spent a lot of time toiling at Painting and Life Drawing and Printmaking and such.

Ansel Adams was cheerful and accessible, a sort of out-of-uniform Santa Claus. Georgia O’Keeffe was different. Dresed in a floor-length black dress, she leaned tripodally on her blackcane, her deep-set eyes wide and glittering, not saying a word. She was tiny and looked quite frail.

But she did not SEEM frail. She radiated Power. Her gaze was like a wide-beam laser. The vibe was of her being all-seeing and all-knowing.

I was there about half an hour and in all that time the dozens of people in the room respected Ms. O’Keeffe’s space and silence. They made up for that soundless proximal vortex by flocking around Adams and peppering him with questions. He held forth jovially, magnificently. Nicest guy on Earth, in his element and in his moment.

Ms. O’Keeffe was in her element as well, in her realm of observation and contemplation. She reigned.

Not So Frail

Needles point to skin and coif. Omnipresence throws them off. For Truth is Power and talent Soars. A sense of Place is Boat and Oars. I owe this Georgia Peach some Soul.

2019 1007 enchanted

With a prompt like “Enchanted,” the mind enters the Magical Realm of Once Upon a Time. Here’s a true story that seems magical to me. Once upon a time there was a man who lived with two women, and loved them both. But he found that there was truth in the Chinese symbol for “Trouble,” which draws a simplified picture of two women under one roof. He became agitated by some of this “trouble,” and it gave him an idea. Don’t people who lie have physical changes that a machine might be able to detect? And so the Lie Detector was invented. And later, the same man noticed, with the help of one of the women he loved, that comic books only had men as superheroes, so he told a comic-book-maker that they needed a woman hero. The comic-book-maker agreed, and asked for help, so this man created Wonder Woman with the help of an artist. And he created Wonder Woman with a Lie Detector of her own, a magic lasso which when encircling someone would make that someone tell the truth. And though there is no “happily ever after” to this story, the empowerment of women that can be directly traced to this man has made the world a better place. The end.

I have futurist David Rose to thank for this true story in the form I have written. It was part of his discussion of his book Enchanted Objects: Design, Human Desire, and the Internet of Things. He gave that discussion five years ago, and since then Siri and Alexa, two well-written forms of artificial intelligence, have managed to insinuate “themselves” into our lives, working their often creepy enchantment. (In his discussion Rose speaks of “The Uncanny Valley,” wherein things designed to be more humanlike do so just enough to give us the willies.) (And the Bad Punster strikes again: If they made social robots of Willie Mays and Willie Nelson, it would REALLY give us the Willies.) (Sorry not sorry.)

So my page this time has no acrostic poetry, though I became tempted, when listing various Enchanted things, to list them as Swords, Evenings, Castles, Rings, Encounters, and This Guy’s Brain–put them all together and they spell “Secret.”

I have provided the link to David Rose’s discussion to my Facebook readership, and the link is on my Magic Clipboard now, but I will cost you a few seconds and NOT paste it here, instead inviting you to work a little Enchantment of your own via Internet search, by way of demonstrating, as Arthur C. Clarke once observed, “Any sufficiently developed technology is indistinguishable from magic.”

Let’s end with a punchline. There are many people I know via social media that I have never met in person. YOU may well be one of them, and one of the reasons I want to spend my retirement on a World Tour of meeting lovely people that I have and have not met yet. From this day forward, at that magic moment when I am physically WITH someone (as I say, pehaps YOU) whom I previously have only known online, I intend to use that magic word that the French employ when they meet someone for the first time–“Enchanté.”

2019 1006 husky

The HUSKY is a noble beast, said Jack London in Call of the Wild.  There is a scene in the novel where a single husky followed commands of “Gee!” (Wrench to unstick the ice!”) “Haw!” (Now wrench THE OTHER WAY to unstick the ice!) “Now MUSH!!” (“Pull like the dickens!!”) and the dog pulled an unbelievable amount of weight a certain distance to win a bet for his Mushmaster. When offered a huge sum for the dog, Mushmaster told Moneybags to go to hell.

There was a husky on our block when I was growing up, and all that fur in hothothot Glendale, Arizona must have made him uncomfortable. But he was sweet-natured and never whined.

Husky Doggy

Have FUR, will MUSH, indeed
Unceasingly as is the way of Dogface Creed. O
Such Sacrifices! this dog is O. G
Knapsackers of the North, and Golly G
You watch as they move Mountains willingly.

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As a ceramic artist I have done a certain amount of hand-building, which is non-wheel-thrown working of clay. Ehen the “Build” prompt came up it occurred to me that “hand building” could be my Bad Pun of the Day if I used Hand Building to actually build a hand. (Thank you for reading my Bad Pun of the Day!)

HAND BLDG

Hit the switch–a genius bulb

Agitation of the skull

Need of subject Plan & grid

Dream becoming something big

Personal note: I made this page, and am writing these words, at an event called Meet Your Literary Community. As far as I know I am the only Acrostic Poet on display in the Community. Hope I’m doing a good job Representing!