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Tag Archives: acrostic

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Yesterday I was behind the desk at the Independent Living Retirement Community where I work, and Laura, the Pet Visit lady, offered me any of the three photos of the pet, one Lena Furbena, she’d brought to visit. I selected one and asked permission to use it as a photo source for an illustrated poem. Laura kindly granted permission, and here we are.

Lena has her own Facebook page. Here is a link: https://www.facebook.com/lena.furbena?fref=ts She claims study at Yavapai College and work at Bossa Rosa. Apparently she enjoys moonlit walks and dirt baths.

I don’t know her well, but from the vibe I got from my brief visit with her, this emerged:

Love-Kitties often loll & paw & goof
Lick sharpened claws & blink & blink at you
Enjoying your discomfiture, they purr
Enjoined, they do a thing that lacks a verb
Now Cat & Human share a warmth serene
No discord interferes with what they glean
An afternoon in Harmony’s corona
A Love-Cat LIVES in Northern Arizona

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Half a Secret

If there were such a thing as half a secret
There would be such a thing as half aloof
So goes the half aloft and closet peeklet
Entangled in the clothing of the proof
Less entropy prevents a leaky roof
Ferality unmeeks the meekest meek pet

Reveiled

In veils we find
The mystery
Sought by the blind
Encounter. We
Leave type and kind
For History.

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Apologies to Brad Pitt for exploiting his name and face, albeit in a good cause.

Synopsized facts about “Who Killed the Electric Car?” may be found on Wikipedia, here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Who_Killed_the_Electric_Car%3F . It may seem that by now, eight years later, the point is moot, but we’re pumping more than ever out of the ground and into the sky.

“Jean-Luc” is a reference to the character Patrick Stewart played in the STAR TREK: THE NEXT GENERATION omnibus. He was a starship captain who certified his orders with “make it so.”

Unforeseen Difficulty

Unto us an Engine framed, full bore & rectified
Now release we Inner Cowgrrr–yippy ki yi yi
Four-speed shift or automatic–really, what’s the diff
Oil & gasoline intoxicate–just take a whiff
Rolling on a highway beats a loll on the lanai
Eminent domain emissions make it so Jean-Luc
Sifting through us like a line of poorly-lit haiku
Even-handed citizens may want to take a Poll
Eco-minders balk if Greenpeace comes for their Renault
Never mind–y’all drive into the Sunset–say goodby

cantankerously unobstreperous

curmudgeons may include him, her, and you
and dogs who howl and bay to fill the moon
not mentioning an undynamic duo
that carries on more frenzied than haboob
antagonism coexists with brothers
neanderthalic whims take to the street
kerfuffle ends, but soon will be another
euripedes was ofttimes indis-crete
rasputin took some hits, but none too deep
olivier became a drilling foe
upended abel’s brother was no keeper
soliloquizing hamlet sez hell/o
life reads as epic, wit reads like a senryu
you turn a scowl to grin–you pay your dues

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Can you find the twelve curmudgeons in this sonnet?

Don’t bother, he said grumpily.

shame 100314

This image was taken on my phone camera, e-mailed to onewithclay@hotmail.com, photoedited on my Samsung laptop, and posted above. I love 21st Century tech. Normally I’d have scanned the page, but I’m not at home. That’s why it doesn’t look like the usual.

As for Shame, it unduly warps our feelings, our behavior, and our relationships. It’s a shame I can’t say more, but I’m late for lunch. [sad face]

SEPT: A group believing itself derived from a common ancestor.
EMBER: A small piece of wood or burning coal in a dying fire.

OCTO: Prefix for Eight.
BE: Exist.
R: The interjectory noise a pirate makes.

September Songlet

The good September’s here, but not to last.

October waxes as September wanes.

Be both of that as may and as has passed

Each year brings her September labor pains.

Ectopic pregnancies, some: touch and go.

October in September’s womb grows huge.

Rough gusts presage the broken waterflow

Now whirling in gestation’s centrifuge.

October pushes through September’s tissue

Through gauze as underlies a cap and gown

Through portalled Time which adds her to her issue

Out in to Real, with scarcely time to crown.

But some September echoes still resound

Echoic of the Fall of Grace she’d ground.

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Some day we’ll have a thought-recorder (though it may be argued that stuff like the above image IS a thought-recorder) and people will be astonished to read the transcripts of their own thoughts, let alone those of others. The Surrealists, I think, were on to something.

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Dewey is a rat, and a fun one at that; so says my replacement on the Graveyard Shift, who is Dewey’s human.

Why is Dewey in the midst of Erratic? Just my erRATic sense of play at humor, and vice versa.

Here are the words to the quintuplesque acrostic:

Histrionic nonmouse idling-whiskered bulby-eyed
Eats preys scampers madly–synchronicity gone wide
Let the record show and tell a rat’s lot’s tough and low
Loathsome inhumanity yields rocky rows to hoe
O for Pizza cheesy with a crust that’s not too doughy

(Dewey really does eat pizza.)

Here is a sloppy, silly, having-fun one that started serious: What does it mean to “Act your age”? What age are cigarette smokers acting? How about Fred Astaire–working killer hours to make it all look easy as pie? How old was Tom Cruise when he jumped backwards onto Oprah Winfrey’s couch? And does the acting age of a hotel-user plummet when she or he succumbs to the impulse to use the Mini-Bar, and thereby get overcharged for killing brain cells?

So here is a baby addressing Parlaiment, a rock putting on lipstick, a tree forgetting he isn’t the sapling he used to be, the poor Sun suffering a Gout/Flareup, and your humble author proudly displaying his Duncan Yo-Yo. There are five badly-drawn images, but the label Figure 4 is used twice. There are two triple acrostics, hereinafter referred to as Dumb & Dumber. SOMEBODY needs to Grow Up!

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This is an example of composition as balancing act. About forty years ago Professor Scott of the University of Arizona had us strip works of David (pronounced Dah-Veed) and Poussin (pronounced Poo-Saaan, sort of)  to the essentials of gestural lines. Presumably, if the sum of the angles relative to the bottom edge of a given painting add up to zero, or close, it’s a Good Composition.

I suppose it was an enlightening exercise, but it had all the excitement of diagramming sentences, and about as much practical use.  Then as now I’ll look at a drawing in progress and do my best to intuit how best to engage the viewer with the next enhancement (or, as with some erasure, disenhancement). I’d rather taste the soup of a drawing than diagram its sentence any day.

The acrostics remain without poetry. If the drawing is good enough to remake on non-scratch paper, I’ll do a remake and work out the words. If you’d like to collaborate with an obscure artist/poet, feel free to fill in some poetry. If you do, show and tell via comment, and you’ll make my day!