Chronicles of Mark

Senryu: Bed Time

2012-01-15T20:58:00.002+01:00

Exhausted evening

the kids are put to bed; and

now it's time for us

Blog: Resumption Resolution

2012-01-05T13:37:00.002+01:00

After a longer break than I intended, it's time to get back on track. This year, I want to write more senryu and haiku, but also try a few other forms. I probably won't be posting frequently or regularly. I do welcome all comments and feedback - or even just an email to say "Hi!".

Word Art: For My Friends' Wedding Day

2008-11-24T08:35:00.003+01:00

I made this using Wordle, a little internet toy to generate and lay out "word clouds". I fed it the sonnet I wrote for my friends' wedding day. Not surprisingly, the focal point is Love.

Blog: While We're Waiting

2008-09-17T13:47:00.000+01:00

A backwards poet writes inverse.

Fun: Demotivator

2008-08-05T11:07:00.002+01:00

Make your own poster here.

Haiku: Um-ber-ella

2008-08-05T09:00:00.005+01:00

Cool summer showers
become torrential downpours;
now I'm soaking wet!

Sonnet: For My Friends' Wedding Day

2008-08-03T09:12:00.008+01:00

Will Shakespeare called love "madness most discreet",
...He never met Q6 and OKP.
...Though mad, of course, they really are quite sweet,
...They cannot hide their love - it's plain to see.
"The sight of lovers feedeth those in love,"
...Wrote the Bard. Today's a celebration
...As friends and fam'ly join to be part of
...Our star-kiss'd lovers' nuptial conjugation.
Today, they're getting hitched and promise this:
..."A lifetime filled with laughter and romance,
...So, every chance we get, I'll want to kiss,
...And every time there's music, want to dance;
...I'll never love you like I did before;
...Because, my Love, each day, I'll love you more."

Senryu: Catachresis

2008-07-02T09:40:00.006+01:00

Catachresis dogs
my haiku; I ferret
out the malaprop.

Haiku: Les Claypool

2008-05-22T12:37:00.004+01:00

Les Claypool, bass god,
breaking all the rules, you play,
and I have to smile.

Haiku: Summer in the City

2008-04-29T07:23:00.003+01:00

Smell of sun-baked stone,
sound of children playing, and
jet trails - white-on-blue.

Other People's Poems: The Deadly Donkey

2008-04-28T10:38:00.002+01:00

My friend, Erin, sent me a great birthday card, with an inspirational poem by Edward Monkton:
Not only is it probably the best birthday card in the world, but it's a gentle reminder (if I don't misread my friend's mind) to write some damn poetry.

Fun: Poet School

2008-04-21T09:26:00.001+01:00

Fun: Poetry of a Pint

2008-03-18T10:12:00.001+01:00

From the pub yesterday.

Twenty Zero Eight

2008-01-03T14:54:00.000+01:00

"Poetry is a deal of joy and pain and wonder, with a dash of the dictionary." - Khalil Gibran

2008. Time to get back on track. This year, I want to write more haiku, and some other forms of poetry. I won't publish everything, and I won't publish often, but at least I'll be having fun!

News

2007-08-23T12:24:00.001+01:00

Our daughter, Ayla, was born on Sunday morning, and she and Sara came home today. Everyone is healthy and happy.

Haiku: Saturday Morning

2007-08-04T19:12:00.000+01:00

Slightly out-of-tune

bells chime from a nearby church,

improving silence.

Other People's Poems: Invictus

2007-07-23T14:59:00.000+01:00

OUT of the night that covers me,
  Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
  For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
  I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
  My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
  Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
  Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
  How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
  I am the captain of my soul.

- William Ernest Henley (read his biography in Wikipedia)

The title is Latin for "unconquered".

Other People's Poems: The Shooting of Dan McGrew

2007-07-10T21:57:00.000+01:00

A bunch of the boys were whooping it up in the Malamute saloon;
The kid that handles the music-box was hitting a jag-time tune;
Back of the bar, in a solo game, sat Dangerous Dan McGrew,
And watching his luck was his light-o'-love, the lady that's known as Lou.

When out of the night, which was fifty below, and into the din and the glare,
There stumbled a miner fresh from the creeks, dog-dirty, and loaded for bear.
He looked like a man with a foot in the grave
and scarcely the strength of a louse,
Yet he tilted a poke of dust on the bar,
and he called for drinks for the house.
There was none could place the stranger's face,
though we searched ourselves for a clue;
But we drank his health, and the last to drink was Dangerous Dan McGrew.

There's men that somehow just grip your eyes,
and hold them hard like a spell;
And such was he, and he looked to me like a man who had lived in hell;
With a face most hair, and the dreary stare of a dog whose day is done,
As he watered the green stuff in his glass, and the drops fell one by one.
Then I got to figgering who he was, and wondering what he'd do,
And I turned my head -- and there watching him
was the lady that's known as Lou.

His eyes went rubbering round the room, and he seemed in a kind of daze,
Till at last that old piano fell in the way of his wandering gaze.
The rag-time kid was having a drink; there was no one else on the stool,
So the stranger stumbles across the room, and flops down there like a fool.
In a buckskin shirt that was glazed with dirt he sat, and I saw him sway;
Then he clutched the keys with his talon hands
-- my God! but that man could play.

Were you ever out in the Great Alone, when the moon was awful clear,
And the icy mountains hemmed you in with a silence you most could HEAR;
With only the howl of a timber wolf, and you camped there in the cold,
A half-dead thing in a stark, dead world, clean mad for the muck called gold;
While high overhead, green, yellow and red,
the North Lights swept in bars? --
Then you've a haunch what the music meant . . .
hunger and night and the stars.

And hunger not of the belly kind, that's banished with bacon and beans,
But the gnawing hunger of lonely men for a home and all that it means;
For a fireside far from the cares that are, four walls and a roof above;
But oh! so cramful of cosy joy, and crowned with a woman's love --
A woman dearer than all the world, and true as Heaven is true --
(God! how ghastly she looks through her rouge, --
the lady that's known as Lou.)

Then on a sudden the music changed, so soft that you scarce could hear;
But you felt that your life had been looted clean
of all that it once held dear;
That someone had stolen the woman you loved; that her love was a devil's lie;
That your guts were gone, and the best for you was to crawl away and die.
'Twas the crowning cry of a heart's despair,
and it thrilled you through and through --
"I guess I'll make it a spread misere," said Dangerous Dan McGrew.

The music almost died away . . . then it burst like a pent-up flood;
And it seemed to say, "Repay, repay," and my eyes were blind with blood.
The thought came back of an ancient wrong, and it stung like a frozen lash,
And the lust awoke to kill, to kill . . .
then the music stopped with a crash,
And the stranger turned, and his eyes they burned in a most peculiar way;
In a buckskin shirt that was glazed with dirt he sat, and I saw him sway;
Then his lips went in in a kind of grin,
and he spoke, and his voice was calm,
And "Boys," says he, "you don't know me, and none of you care a damn;
But I want to state, and my words are straight,
and I'll bet my poke they're true,
That one of you is a hound of hell . . . and that one is Dan McGrew."

Then I ducked my head, and the lights went out,
and two guns blazed in the dark,
And a woman screamed, and the lights went up,
and two men lay stiff and stark.
Pitched on his head, and pumped full of lead, was Dangerous Dan McGrew,
While the man from the creeks lay clutched to the breast
of the lady that's known as Lou.

These are the simple facts of the case, and I guess I ought to know.
They say that the stranger was crazed with "hooch",
and I'm not denying it's so.
I'm not so wise as the lawyer guys, but strictly between us two --
The woman that kissed him and -- pinched his poke --
was the lady that's known as Lou.

- Robert Service

Read his biography on Wikipedia and read his poetry on Project Gutenberg.

Read this ballad fast, and enjoy its rhythms and rhymes. This might be his best one, but he wrote a few excellent ballads.

For more wild western balladry, find and listen to Rory Gallagher's version of Leadbelly's "Out On A Western Plain" (try YouTube and again)

Senryu: Downcast

2007-06-05T00:06:00.000+01:00

Downcast bird forgot
her wings, but hope lives ever
in a heart that sings.

Photo by Amy.
Visit Amy's photoblog.

Senryu: Morning Calm

2007-06-04T07:19:00.000+01:00

Little book of calm—
page corners tattered and torn
—one more last resort.

Photo by Amy.
Visit Amy's photoblog.

Haiku: Glory

2007-06-01T06:46:00.000+01:00

Mist-clouded morning:
sun battles water and breaks
out in gold glory.

Senryu: It's a Pane

2007-05-25T15:23:00.000+01:00

Friday. Working hard.
Desktop like a glazier's yard:
too many windows.

Other People's Poems: 1(a... (a leaf falls on loneliness)

2007-05-25T13:57:00.000+01:00

1(a
le
af
fa

ll

s)
one
l

iness

- e e cummings (1894 - 1962)

A very beautiful shaped poem, with a very powerful image of the leaf slowly falling.

Senryu: Then Move On

2007-05-25T13:02:00.000+01:00

A five-minute break.
Soothe the soul, refresh the mind.
Deep breath — then move on.

Photo by Amy.
Visit Amy's photoblog.

Senryu: Audience of None

2007-05-09T10:13:00.001+01:00

Who writes documents
that nobody ever reads?
Technical writers.

Blog: Good at Getting Better

2007-05-04T15:14:00.000+01:00

There's a new link under "Links" to KR's good at getting better. The Cynical Rose is a really sweet poem.

Other People's Poems: The Road Not Taken

2007-05-04T13:06:00.000+01:00

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth.

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same.

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

- Robert Frost

One question I never got an answer to in school: is this poem an assertation of individualism, or just a corny drawn-out one-liner?

Senryu: Anorak Man

2007-05-04T09:33:00.000+01:00

"Anorak Man" has

changed his coat. He never smiles.

Cranky commuter.

Senryu: Pub Talk

2007-05-04T09:22:00.000+01:00

"... and seasons do change."

Brandishing the obvious,

he set his drink down.

Senryu: Kung-Fu Baby (Anticipation, Part 3)

2007-04-17T07:49:00.001+01:00

Kung-Fu Baby kicked
my ear on Sara's tummy.
Keep it up, kiddo!

(Updated to version 2.2)

Senryu: Kurt Vonnegut is in Heaven Now

2007-04-13T07:35:00.000+01:00

"We are here on Earth
to fart around", or so it
goes. And so he goes.

Haiku: Springsong

2007-04-02T13:25:00.000+01:00

Birds' singsong sparkles

on the first warm breeze of spring;

my spirits take wing.

Other People's Poems: First They Came...

2007-04-02T08:25:00.000+01:00

When the Nazis came for the communists,
I remained silent;
I was not a communist.

When they locked up the social democrats,
I remained silent;
I was not a social democrat.

When they came for the trade unionists,
I did not speak out;
I was not a trade unionist.

When they came for me,
there was no one left to speak out.

- Martin Niemöller (1892–1984)

Learn more about this poem in Wikipedia.

I thought it might be interesting to post some brain food here, so I'll post a poem I like every now and again. This poem was suggested by Daire a long time ago, and has rattled around in my head since then.

Folklore: Counting Magpies

2007-03-29T07:29:00.000+01:00

One for sorrow,
Two for joy,
Three for a girl,
Four for a boy,
Five for silver,
Six for gold,
Seven for a secret never to be told.

There's more information about this rhyme in Wikipedia.

Senryu: Hold On

2007-03-11T17:19:00.000+01:00

My heart in your hands;
all the tiny scars—you make
them all feel better.

Senryu: Mamma Pappa

2007-02-27T08:27:00.000+01:00

Vi blir snart till tre—
vår lilla familj växer:
Mamma, Pappa, barn.

Senryu: Eskimo Toes

2007-02-27T08:25:00.000+01:00

Your feet and my feet

do Eskimo toe kisses

that mean: "I love you".

Review: Carla Bruni - "No Promises"

2007-02-24T21:40:00.000+01:00

Daire turned me on to Carla Bruni's excellent first album, Quelqu'un m'a dit, a while ago, and she has finally released a second album, No Promises.

This time around, it's in English, but she didn't write the lyrics herself. The lyrics for this album are provided by William Butler Yeats, Dorothy Parker, and Emily Dickinson, among others. Bruni took some much-loved English poetry and wrote music to fit her interpretations of the poems. Her French-tinged accent makes the last song on the album, W. H. Auden's At Last The Secret Is Out stand out—all the more so if compared to Auden's own crisp English accent.

This is a beautiful album that really allows a new way to explore some classic poetry.

Senryu: Mark Wants a Porsche

2007-02-16T17:23:00.000+01:00

I wish I had a
Porsche—or some other car.
Public transport sucks.

Senryu: Valentine's Day

2007-02-14T15:23:00.000+01:00

It's Valentine's Day.
Water your vases, Honey:
I'm bringing flowers.

Link: Odd Valentine's cards

Senryu: Perfect (Anticipation, Part 2)

2007-02-13T15:25:00.000+01:00

Ten fingers. Ten toes.
I'm watching you on TV—
standing on your head.

Senryu: Anticipation, Part 1

2007-01-31T14:28:00.000+01:00

I can't believe it:
I'm looking at your picture.
When will you arrive?

Senryu: Great Surprise!

2007-01-18T14:42:00.000+01:00

Great surprises run
right into your arms and knock
the wind out of you.

(For S, always and forever)

Free Verse: Simplify

2007-01-11T14:44:00.000+01:00

Sometimes, you need to simplify
your life and its surroundings.
Dismiss debris, direct disorder,
eschew extraneous efforts.

Sometimes, you need to cancel a subscription,
remove a feed, give up an addiction.
Sometimes, you need to examine your choices,
and think about what's really important.

Sometimes, you need to say "no"
to your boss, to your friend, to your partner.
Sometimes, you need to take some time
purely for yourself.

Sometimes, you might feel drowned
under the weight of all those demands
you've placed upon yourself--
uncalled for.

Sometimes, you need to allow yourself
to be selfish--
to put yourself first for once--
your friends will understand that.

Sometimes, you need to simplify
your life and its surroundings.
Sometimes, you need to take some time
purely for yourself,
and think about what's really important.

Blog: New Year, 2007

2006-12-22T14:51:00.000+01:00

I've enjoyed writing haiku here. It got me out of a rut, where I wasn't writing anything because I never "finished" anything. I like the form of a haiku (and the other types of poetry that use the same form). Most of all, I like that it's short. It forces me to focus on the core message: what do I really want to say? Seventeen syllables does not accomodate much digression, I quickly learned, and it is so short, I could actually finish something.

I've actually enjoyed writing haiku so much, my new year's resolution is to write more poetry, and in different forms. I'd love to try my hand at a sonnet, for example.

Inspired by an interview with Stephen Fry about poetry, where he observes, amongst other things:

The interesting thing about poetry is that it is concrete. It is about the actual. People think of it as being ethereal. It's quite the reverse.

- which has been my experience. I never even wrote poetry before last month. My first ever poem was the haiku Wicked Winter Sun which, I think, captured a very specific moment in time when the winter started closing in here.

Another fascinating observation (earlier in the interview) about iambic pentameter:

And often you hear people speaking it in the street, or, I phoned somebody the other week and they said "I haven't time to take your call right now, so leave a message when you hear the tone." It's two lines, with perfect iambic pentameter. Exactly. It's the same form that Shakespeare used.

I never really thought about that before. The iambic rhythm is similar to the heart's rhythm. It's a very natural rhythm, I think.

So, that's what I've decided to do for 2007: write more poetry. I'll use Stephen Fry's book on that very subject, The Ode Less Travelled, for help, as inspiration, and as a suitable nag to actually write. I think it will be fun, and I hope you'll give me feedback and criticism (don't be shy; I can take it).

Haiku: Christmas Spirit

2006-12-22T14:49:00.000+01:00

Christmas spirit and
seasonal cheer infuses
my work-weary being

Warning: Santa Claus Redux

2006-12-20T14:51:00.000+01:00

Blog: Nick

2006-12-18T14:52:00.000+01:00

If you only read one short story this christmas... let it be Sarah Flanigan's Nick.

Haiku: Gravel

2006-12-15T14:53:00.000+01:00

The sound of gravel
crunching softly underfoot
reminds me of Dad.

Senryu: Meaning

2006-12-13T14:55:00.000+01:00

What does christmas mean
to homeless kids in Thailand
even when they're good?

Links:

Senryu: Santa Says

2006-12-12T15:04:00.000+01:00

Santa says: "Tough luck.
You live in an apartment
and have no chimney."

Haiku: Sleigh Ride

2006-12-12T15:03:00.000+01:00

Sleigh bells ring; we glide—
blankets 'cross our knees—through the
winter wonderland

Senryu: A Wii Elf

2006-12-12T15:02:00.000+01:00

I'm an elf, myself.
I make your toys. Be naughty
and I'll keep your Wii.

Senryu: Rudolph's Revenge

2006-12-12T15:01:00.000+01:00

Rudolph gets revenge
every foggy christmas eve.
They made fun of him.

Haiku: The Last Leaf Falls

2006-12-06T15:06:00.000+01:00

The last leaf falls. The
mighty trunk collects its strength
and waits—waits for spring.

Senryu: Feeling Green

2006-12-06T15:03:00.000+01:00

I smile. Inside, I
feel frustration. Make me mad!
I want to Hulk Out!

Haiku: Hail

2006-12-05T15:11:00.000+01:00

Tuesday morning: hail
stones bounce off my window sill,
keeping me awake.

Haiku: November Wind

2006-11-21T15:12:00.000+01:00

Sharp November wind
assaults. I innoculate
myself with coffee.

Haiku: Wicked Winter Sun

2006-11-20T15:13:00.000+01:00

Wicked winter sun
promised mellow warmth, but
yellow rays are cold.

Blog: Pure Fiction

2006-10-05T15:15:00.000+01:00

Since I don't seem to be getting anything written here, let me refer you to the excellent site Sarah Flanigan - Pure Fiction, a "story-telling corner".

Blog: Six-Word Stories

2006-10-04T15:16:00.000+01:00

(Via 37Signals) Caterina writes:

Ernest Hemingway was once prodded to compose a complete story in six words. His answer, personally felt to be his best prose ever, was "For sale: baby shoes, never used."

Deliciously bleak. Nikolaj, in a comment for that post, said:

Somehow sad ones seemed easier than happy ones

I have to agree with him. My entry, off the top of my head, is:

I wonder what this button does.

Update: Some more six-word stories at Wired.