Oh how the winds convene, Oh how zephyrs come Oh how the gales blow Oh how breezes hum For they were convenient Good for all to blow For they sought to assemble They desired to flow Up through stars skyly Between branches burdened among streams briskly the clouds they beckoned Vented wound around drafts drift slightly squalls sung surround tempests tug tightly Note Boreas east zephs At Aeolus beck enthralled Never bagged, will inspire the stillest heart hauled Oh how the winds came Oh how zephyrs vented Oh how gales exclaim songs breezed haunted
The trolls own all the bridges So boy it is time to swim Stroke hard to reach the other side However there you’ll need some vim For there the trolls do abound Cracking the skulls of the unwary And flamers do roam and hound After all, webs spun are quite scary However here in these waters Beware the sharks of snark Evade the whales of fail all the phishies in the dark In the net you are saved But on the shore there's war Watch from tubes, unstaved As duped grams are filtered more Tweaked twits here abound, where books sadly fade, ghost alone forever around like mines spaced, arrayed So boy on safari go and swift explorer be Sing let an opera flow Glisten like chrome for me With fast feet, face the wild see doge, peer at horses troy cats cute, kawaii world styled observe herd of nerds, my boy For the vine it was done many tags hashed declare foxes afire bing my son as yahoos wild tare But protect your cookies for ire nameless strolls for fire walls, a mask frees and men become trolls Yes trolls control the bridges opposing all crossing thought You will wander, why fied Yet by banhammer they’ll be smot
In poetry, we adults are once again found as infants even in our maternal waters of language. As children, we learned the rules, memorized the guidelines, believed in the principles. But as adults, we saw there were exceptions. The long broad shadows cast down from the sky means nothing to a child newborn, infant unlearned, and tottering toddler wandering. But to the adult, they see the shadow, recognize the vulture’s presence, and discern that carnage lies nigh, unseen, but quite nearby.
So it is with poetry. As children, we learn words, understand them as nouns, verbs, adjectives, etc, then formulate them into sentences, building from these paragraphs, from which we construct essays that are published in books to fill our libraries. Yet poetry befuddles this, looking on with magenta mirth, in fuschia fervency, outside the lines coloring us, calling this cute. Since we humans are mortal, we are finite, thus must interact with the world in a finite manner, measuring and comparing, understanding and perceiving, everything through a finite lens that brings structure and order so that our minds can grasp and interact with things.
Simply, we can not transcend the TL:DR, TMI–we must live in medias res and not beyond, for us to understand things. Thus we have made ideas finite in a language graspable, congealed life into sentences manageable. But poetry befuddles this. Poetry sees your sentences, its commas flowing, its conjunctions connecting, its periods ending–but continues on ignoring these with its stanzas breaking, enjambing, alluding, inferring, yet never quite explicitly declaring distinct points
For poetry is the grammar of fluidity, for within her waves we must wade as we learn again how to swim.
Operam Navate et Natate , Infans Natatus
What are you this blog nascent
On topics what do you contain
Within margin which ideas ardent
Will bold brave the pale plain?
Hmm, this query interesting
Topics, list to ponder I’ll present
Ideas: Nintendo, Art, Latin
Enough content worth cogent?
More? I’ll add few notions intended
Mythology, ancient acumen now scorned
Etymology, ignored oddity of origins
Criticism, shade for quandaries mourned
Good and all, yet under what nomen
May such ideas condense in sense
Verbose loquacious but a TL;DR please?
Swift to it, leave us not in suspense
Go towards the work proposed
So Blog, onwards may you start
Flow forwards, with ideas composed
So christened, On Words Thou Art