their knight threatens but
my pawn buffers and my queen
stands ready to pounce
selfportraitasrookku
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Birds 4 Sale. Cheep!
Here are two of my recent bird sculptures. One is glazed, one unglazed, and I may leave the unglazed one as is because it is nicely ghostlike in contrast to its mate. If my diabolical plans come to fruition, they will be worth at least $1000 US each in less than two years. But I’d be glad to sell the both of them TODAY ONLY for a grand total of $100.00 plus shipping (free delivery in the Phoenix, AZ area, though). Any interested party may either leave a comment on this post or e-mail me at onewithclay@hotmail.com. Deadline is midnight Mountain Standard Time today, May 29, 2023. Support the Arts, Friends!!
hale
hale
memorial day is for remembrance
of soldiers who died
serving their country.
“hale” is both a description
of a person in a state of robustness
and a surname.
george washington needed a volunteer to spy
behind british lines and get intel on the brits.
captain nathan hale alone stepped up.
hale was a bright kid, a yale graduate at eighteen,
a schoolteacher at twenty. now he was a spy.
alas, he was soon recognized and ratted out.
a british soldier who witnessed hale’s death
wrote in his diary “he behaved
with great composure and resolution.”
on the gallows he supposedly said
“i only regret, that i have but one life,
to lose for my country.”
but his brother enoch asked around
and was told that nathan gave a longer,
spirited speech,
and said among other things that
if he had ten THOUSAND lives,
he would lay them ALL down for his country.
today, America’s memorial day, I think
of that bright, patriotic kid of twenty-one,
and of his courage and dignity.
NaPoWriMo 2023, day 7: sorrow
National Poetry Writing Month 2023, day 7
the funny thing about sorrow
sorrow visits us all our lives
for a weekend here
and three years there
and at least a little every single minute
but it can make you laugh
as with a funeral
where the best friend of the deceased
tells funny stories
and the gathered are grateful
for laughter’s relief
and the brief escape
reliving ridiculous episodes
when you have a good cry
an ugly cry or a soft cry
it’s funny how it sometimes seems
you just had a bath or a baptism
and sins or street grit
seem to have been washed away
my mom helped my aunt zilpha cry in 1965
while kid-me watched from the next room
they were looking at letters from her brother
my grandfather
who’d been institutionalized
and died in 1963
funny how later that day
aunt zilpha was so cheery and aware
i have a little sorrow going on right now
and it’s funny how i am sort of celebrating
by not talking about it
but posting a new profile picture
with my sorrowful face on display
it is good to smile
but it is also good to cry
good to let friends know you’re not ok
but will be ok soon
and so it will be with you, my friend,
at certain times of loss,
or adverse circumstance
Shakespeare’s Falstaff said a funny thing:
“Who hath [honour]?
He who died o’ Wednesday.”
beware wednesday
says this joker
cracking wise
because sorrow
NaPoWriMo 2023, day 5: Trio
I have just finished Gaudy Night by Dorothy Sayers. It is one of the finest novels I have ever read. It succeeds as a mystery novel, as a period piece, as a commentary on social stratification, and as a complex and magnificent love story. It is the third tale in the saga of Lord Peter Wimsey and Harriet Vane, Strong Poison and Have His Carcase being the first two. All three are superb, but Gaudy Night is the capstone.
The three acrostic poems on this page were inspired by the story of Harriet and Peter. The strictures of the acrostic forms I use and of brevity make them analogous to Plato’s Myth of the Cave in terms of reflecting the actuality of the love story, but those who have read any of the three books will hear an echo.
Downfall
Deliver a roman à clef
Designed to cure the blind & deaf
Of incomplete sensoria
Which then restores euphoria
Now Knowledge, that most bitter pill
Necessitates a lonely hill
Free Pass
Fret & weep
Fall asleep
Rouse the area
Raise hysteria
Enter Bliss
Extra kiss
High Time
Heavens! We’ll be late for T
If, though, you’ve the dough-re-mi
Glean & dawdle; twinkle; gleam
Hasten not! It spoils the scheme
NaPoWriMo 2023, day 4: prepku
prepku//under a chef’s knife/a carrot becomes batons/then it becomes cubes
NaPoWriMo 2023, day 3: A-G
A poem that acrosticizes the alphabet is known as an abecedarian. The first three syllables are pronounced A B C. Then say the name Darian, and you’re home.
Aay Bee Cee Dee Eee Eff Gee
Abracadabra, a cadre of dreamers! Whoopee! OMG
Antedeluvian essences wheedle the Infinite
Yes, let us feed wildebeests ending strife in our Noble Cause spree
Since each line has a related-but-different meter, I make bold to suggest that April 3, 2023 is the day Slant Meter was invented. There will probably be zero seismic upheaval in the world of poetry, but not bad for a chubby old guy with a bent heart, eh? 🙂
NaPoWriMo 2023, day 2: Tap
“Tap” is one of those marvelous itty-bitty words that can mean any of a number of things. You may be tapped for a promotion. You may hear gentle rain on your window. There may be a Raven ready to repeat a maddening word, wanting you to let her in. Or you may be out of funds–tapped out. (I just tapped that on my laptop.)
So I have drawn the master of tap dancing, Sammy Davis Jr., doing what he did superbly. Next to him is a tableau vivant of a man walking, and the tap on his shoulder by a lady who is about to change his life. Next to them is the prosaic and eminently useful Water Tap, based on my bathroom-sink faucet.
Tap TapTapTap Tap
The door goes rat-a-tat-a-tat
To tell a Caller’s on the mat
They may complain about your cat
A dancer taps into nostalgia
And then he has fibromyalgia
As always, Entropy will gouge ya
Penultimately we may gasp
Plead if we hear a gravelled rasp
Perhaps we feel the REAPER’S grasp
National Poetry Writing Month 2023, day 1: A Fool Aloof
A Fool Aloof
All of us love Cinderell A
Few of us a spitting came L
One of us makes turnip jell O
Overactive as Othell O
Let us grade this wayward fellow… F
Cinderella, of course, is the classic Rags-to-Riches story. Camels do spit and most of us find that disagreeable. Turnip Jello does not exist, except here; so there is only one maker. (Fun fact: my middle name, Wright, means “maker.) And Othello had an overactive imagination, an overactive murderous urge, and an overactive tendency to believe what he was told.
In my country, the letter F denotes more than one thing. In the case of a grade, F stands for Failure, Failing, or Fail. Since the last line didn’t rhyme one the last word, the acrostic literally gets an F.
Happy April Fool’s Day, Friends!
Time Marches On. March Marches Off.
Friends, technical difficulties have kept me from posting anything at all this March. My “Media Library” has reached its gigabyte limit despite my efforts to free up space. But as long as I don’t try to upload an image I can still make a post. I didn’t want a full month to go by without one, so here we are.
Some good things are happening. Donald Trump has at long last been indicted, and though the Republican party is making shameful noise about “political persecution,” it seems that the only person who claims he’s innocent is Trump himself, and he is as usual lying. He wishes that something will distract the public from this indictment, and I hope he’ll get his wish–in the form of OTHER, MORE SERIOUS indictments. As Bob Woodward says, he is a threat to Democracy. Let us try him. May he find the Justice he deserves, and may it be swift and thorough.
My personal life has taken an interesting turn. Barring unforeseen circumstances, I will be reporting for an apprenticeship program for prep cooks, come the 10th of April. I bought a chef’s knife today to get some practice in. Three carrots, eight radishes, a navel orange and a white onion have already laid down their lives for the sake of my training.
School shootings are still rife in this so-called Land of the Free. Yet wrong-minded folks still post “guns don’t kill people” propaganda, largely under the influence of the disgraced NRA. Our civilization is tainted with barbarism.
Friends, I’ll be back in April. Stay safe, please, and seek happiness!
One with Clay, Image and Text 