Tuesday, August 7, 2012

Bonsai and Pantoum

Two poems tonight; please only read as much as you are comfortable with. The second is a pantoum, for Sam's prompt last Thursday.


Bonsai importado de Caruaru xD
Bonsai

         At evernoon 
the garden burns again
scorched by a sun no less denying
          than the coquette rain.
Only  fools
 grow roses in a desert.


Pressed and cut,
transplanted too much
in  seedling stage
nothing takes root;
                               matured, only a dwarf of
what was meant                         
                                                             twisted in miniature,
stunted to be
a curiosity.

Those with a taste
                                                 for the odd, the extreme,
occasionally collect it
but soon pass it on
                       as too difficult
to maintain.

~August 2012


bonsai


footer: Bonsai,M J Ambriola, both on flick'r both shared under a
Creative Commons license
Posted for   OpenLinkNight   at dVerse Poets Pub

 ~*~

For those who participated in last Thursday's FormforAll, Samuel Peralta hosted a pantoum session at dVerse. It took me awhile, but here's what eventually bubbled up, with a few liberties taken. As always, late to the party.


Three Egg Omelet
blue (A Pantoum)


Three blue eggs nestle
no one can see
deep within the thistle,
down among the rosemary.

No one can see
three words miscarry.
Down among the rosemary,
two lives we bury.

Three words miscarried,
the moment passed beyond recall.
Two lies were buried;
sun sets, moon rises, stars fall.

The moment passed beyond recall;
planes crash, trains wreck every day.
Sunsets blind highrises, curtains fall;
hearts bend, love ends, songs replay.

Suns crash, stars wreck every day
and fall into the thistle.
Hearts bend, lies end, songs replay,
three blue eggs nestle.

~August 2012

Robins' nest in Trumpetvine

If you'd like to hear the poem read by the author, please click below:
three egg omelet by Hedgewitch O'theWilds






Header image:Blue, by Jon Eriksen, on flick'r
Footer image: Robin's nest in trumpet vine, by b4b2, on flick'r
Shared under a Creative Commons License



55 comments:

  1. No one can see
    three words miscarry.
    Down among the rosemary,
    two lives we bury.

    fug...wow...lots in that stanza...and i love how you open on the birds eggs and then turn it elsewhere...two stanzas later where you bring in all the different ways life happens as well...tight pantoum ma'am

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    1. Not sure how you found this to comment while I was still messing with it, bri--you are quick! Thanks man.

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    2. Ditto to Brian's comments. I loved how this developed, turned and deepened. Annette

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  2. "Evernoon"!! I love this word right now. I love the structure of this poem and how it breaks the thoughts.

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  3. I ditto Brian... both wonderful pieces, but I especially like the second.

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  4. the first one esp. spoke to me... the things we so desperately want to grow but then have to realize, it takes just uberhuman effort to maintain...and we can never make it in reality.. that's when dreams die..sorry... wasn't meant to be so melancholic...just thought it is an excellent metaphor...nature teaches us in so many ways

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  5. Oh, I love them both, the first because it is such a perfect bonsai of a poem, the second, I love the way you twisted it around, with this: "Suns crash, stars wreck every day
    and fall into the thistle."

    Great writes, both!

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  6. "but soon pass it on
    as too difficult
    to maintain."

    Beautiful, painful poem.

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  7. loved 'a sun no less denying than the coquette rain' and the image of crashing suns and wrecked stars the second poem brought to imagination. as always vivid, stirring poetics of mind's and heart's depths from you. thanks for sharing.

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  8. brilliant, Hedge... thinking especially of the bonsai poem - we try so hard to control what will do anything, everything to flourish in spite of our manipulations... how many of us see the extent to which we treat our selves the same way?

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  9. I thought of stopping after the first one, and bury myself within the depths of the poem, along with the dead transplant perhaps..
    But then the 3 egg omelette was too hard to pass up...

    Aarrrgghhh...the vain need to control! Gets us nowhere! No?
    Awesome writing!

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  10. Bonsai--lovely structure...and while I have always found these little guys to be quite interesting, I'm well aware I don't have the patience needed to tend them.

    Three Egg Omelet--very nicely structured pantoum. It flows quite beautifully. I enjoyed listening to your reading of it.

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  11. What a wealth today! I'm going backwards. To me, you are a juggler in "Three egg omelet" so that it is possible to imagine the three eggs stay way out of sight, nestling right where we find them at poem's end. The words slide and change in surreal patterns of just as real. The still spot is the eggs. May they hatch! (Today is my optimism day in spite of "three words miscarry" and "two lives we bury" and "planes crash, trains wreck every day" and "Suns crash, stars wreck.")

    The rose and the bonsai also seemed children to me, but already born, and now dependent on environment and care. What can we plant in the dry and the tough? Not a rose, but not a bonsai either--both need more care than admiration (as do all children)! (favorite phrase "the coquette rain")

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  12. I'm not a fan of bonsai trees. I never felt the need to control anything nearly that much. As for your poem, I am reading it this way: the "seedling" being the young self at the mercy of an unstable situation, and changed in such a way that the result is both a stunting and a peculiarity which may be appealing, but is hard to live with, like a challenging piece of art.

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  13. I'm following Susan..and just read her comments and had to smile. I won't re-read yet to see it through her eyes. I loved them both.

    The first seemed to me an expression of how in youth we hanker for the weird, misshapen, the oddities; find their delights and exploiting their rebellious association infuriating to the powers that be. But in maturity pass them on as being difficult to continue to cultivate, and being satisfied with the harmonies of symmetry.

    The second speaks to be the difficulty of "threes". There is always one intruding, misconstruing, changing the meanings, keeping things out of balance and yet if one can weather the trials, the three can eventually mature - the shells can crack but the birds can still flock together. Lovely crafting of the pantoum form into something so free and unconstrained!

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  14. should be "seems to me"...sorry. My fingers wander willy nilly these days.

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  15. I liked the Bonsai but in tears by the end of the Three Egg Omelet. So moving, so lovely. K

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  16. Your pantoum is beautiful and magical.

    I share your distaste for bonsai.

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  17. I love the image of 'coquette rain'and the pantoum with that miraculous final line is stunning.

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  18. Some amazing lines and stanzas, this one holds the most for me
    No one can see
    three words miscarry.
    Down among the rosemary,
    two lives we bury.

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  19. hey hedge

    I was given a Bonsai as a gift when i was in bad health . . .
    i named him Mr Miagi and he sat on my window ledge - majestic
    and "honey i 've shrunk a tree" looking . . . as your poem
    goes it ended in tragedy - he was a pet not a plant and by the time i realised he was neither and was actually either a freak or a spiritual majesty i would never understand - he withered . . . but i was left with a lesson . . . no ... not - dont spend 200 pounds on a plant!!!... but figure out whats in front of you before its too late . . . You hit it out of my park with this write - maybe because i projected my story onto it . . . but i felt it spoke of something along my own lines somehow . . . Write 2 - well iam a sucker for the form - its atop my list of faves and your reading never fails to lull me, willingly into a false sense of security - combine the 2 element - add a Bonsai and i'm a happy chappy :D

    cheers hedge

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    1. Being a plant freak, I can relate to that sense of connection to something that...hand-crafted from a life, perfectly executed. It truly is an art, but it's based on denying everything the plant wants to do with itself, and making it do it on your own excruciating terms instead, in a tiny cramped space--that some amazing and otherwordly things come out of it always boggles me.It's like the stories of men surviving in the Little Ease for 16 years, unable to sit stand or lie down. Glad you dug it, man. And the pantouming. (It's hard to write a serious poem using the word nestle.)

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  20. Terrific poems, particularly the first, very strong, trying to change the natural course, is painful and difficult just for our own pleasure...then we discard it anyway. Very sad but poignant poem!

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  21. At evernoon...so much happens. And that is a graceful way to look at Bonsai. But the pantoum! I read and thought, "so that is how it's done". Second stanza has so many meanings--well, as Brian said. From the particular to the universal and back again. Thank you.

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  22. "Evernoon" how cool is that! There is something so depressing about "songs replay". My old record player used to do that, all night if I fell asleep to it. It didn't care if I slept or dreamed. It just replayed, replayed, replayed.

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    1. Yeah, mega-dreary--but having been a teenager when the Beatles got here--there is the other kind of replaying, where years pass, then suddenly, something replays, something comes back because it's so good it transcends fashion--becomes a human banner of sorts. Like Pink Floyd. Or love, or one of those things. ;_)

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  23. No one can see three words miscarry. Down among the rosemary,
    two lives we bury...so poignant. What a marvelous job you have done with each poem.

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  24. Thanks everyone--especially for reading both poems on a long night of reading. Had to check out earlier because of electrical storms, but will be making the rounds tomorrow.

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  25. Both are excellent Hedge. Pantoum's one of my favorites and your's is very good, well worth the wait :) I love the shaped poetry, the bonsai is such a cool plant, takes so much love to maintain, such an eye-catcher for sure. Really nice lines in there that may go unnoticed, or perhaps it's me, but whenever I do a shaped poem, I always worry a bit that the fact that the poem is in a shape of something perhaps distracts the reader from the lines themselves, but again, that could just be my own insecurities rearing their heads again lol very nicely done, enjoyed both pieces. Thanks

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    1. Thanks so much Fred, for your close reading. And yeah I agree on the shape poems--I don't do them often, but I really wanted the feel of those uneven line breaks, of a structured chaos that defeats a bit of straight meaning(to me) and suggests dysfunction, so I like what you saw, as it kind of fits the poem for me--but if I'd have time, I'd have done audio for it also, as I know the visual can be less impactful for many, especially when it's crisscrossed all over the page.

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  26. Both are wonderful poems. I give you Kudos for sticking with the pantoum. It gave me hell!

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  27. Wonderful poems rendered, both of them. But I am moved hearing your voice,tinged in sadness and poignantly voiced. It tends to encompass the emotions towards wanting to extend help. Wonderful take Joy!

    Hank

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    1. Thank you Hank. Reading your words is always a ticket to a brighter place for me.

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  28. Coquette rain...love that, and the entire Bonsai poem...That haiga...it almost pains me...interesting write :)

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  29. Hi Hedge - they are both beautifully shaped, literally, poems. The evernoon of the bonsai sounds just excruciating. That's a very interesting poem to me in the way that it seemed to move from outside to in, from sky and rose to collector and room. The spacing on the page works very well, and it has a poignancy beyond the subject.

    The pantoum wonderful - one thing I found very interesting from my own doing of the exercise is how the lines want to become longer and more complex as the poem moves along. (This seemed to happen to me too - as if the form itself wants to build to a crescendo.) You take it well beyond its normal boundaries to something again very poignant. k.

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    1. Thanks, k. You got the first poem totally, and glad the spacing worked. On the pantoum, I used much more punctuation than normal, so I'm glad it seemed coherent and yes, I think so on the form making you want to crescendo--otherwise it becomes just a dingbatty singsong, I think. You have to inject it with something stronger at some point --which is why I usually twist the lines rather than just repeat them--I think you could do it with straight repetition, but you'd have to really work on each line microscopically.

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  30. Two different takes on form...great imagination in shaping the bonsai, and very tight use of the limited rhymes of the pantoum to produce great depth and emotion. The first is such a poignant rendition of ends. It does so often happen like this and one can relate both as an abandoned and as an abandoned. Very fine writing throughout these, Joy. Glad you're on the mend.

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    1. Thanks Steve. Glad myself. I hate the medication more than being laid up--can't write at all on it.

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  31. beautiful... sometimes life seems to be like that

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  32. A double dose. I loved the concrete structure of the first poem, but I was really sucked in with your pantoum. Your audio of it contained such emotion, this pain of loss, something so intimately raw and haunting. You've inspired to try a pantoum soon.
    (I missed your words)Gene

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    1. Same here. Thanks for stopping by Gene.

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  33. Love the bonsai poem, Joy Ann. Nice use of metaphor.

    Pamela

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    1. Hi Pam--always good to see you come by. Thanks so much.

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  34. Both poems are beautifully written...I loved the both but could sense the ache & sadness in the pantoum...you're such an inspiration

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  35. Really like both of these. In the first, you had me at "At evernoon"...

    And in your second, love the line "hearts bend, love ends, songs replay." Great mood-setting here. Nice writes!

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  36. I think it's about time I stopped being lazy and get to attempting the pantoum myself. I've been postponing it since the Form4All post last Thursday/Friday.

    Liked the pantoum, with its many liberties, and I was thinking of that second verse as a separate stand-alone one.. That still holds power alone I believe, so a successful poem in that way.


    ~ Leo @ I Rhyme Without Reason ~

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  37. I'm late to this poetry party, but so glad I didn't miss it altogether! I was first blown away by what you did with the bonsai... but the pantoum... such a favourite form of mine to read (but only when written by a master) and this has to be an instant "go to the top of my list".
    I don't want to sit here and tell you why its brilliant. I think we all know. I'm here to thank you for making my heart soar in the presence of great poetry.

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  38. Both clever poems playing with the forms and content. It does show that some forms need time to get on the page.

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  39. For some reason Bonsai makes me feel a little bit guilty - like I've neglected something that could have been beautiful with a little more time and patience. It's a very good poem - the photos add some real umph!

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  40. Three Egg Omelette takes me from micro to macro-cosm then right straight to the heart of it. Again. You are so adept at doing this. Your words bring with them wit-born experience. Not to be confused with sorrow. I am happy to know that the eggs are blue. I enjoyed the crispy clean Bonsai. scorched by a sun no less denying/ than a coquette rain- an exquisite phrase.

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  41. I LOVE your bonsai poem, especially the presentation. It looks exactly like a bonsai tree! Bravo. :)

    Wow. I did not expect this shocking and brilliant wordplay:

    "No one can see
    three words miscarry"

    Wow again. Powerful, Hedge.

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  42. Your pantoum has color and melody and poignancy. I love your bonsai poem, its form and content. I can see you shaping it, stretching here, pruning there....

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    1. Thanks Mark--I enjoyed your post on Derek Bailey--will be reading it again before I comment.

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'Poetry is an echo asking a shadow to dance' ~Carl Sandburg