Bwa ha ha ha ha! This totally cracks me up! (Having played a theremin, and all)
If this doesn’t make sense to you, here is theremin virtuoso Clara Rockmore in action:
poem-caught July 2, 2014
The “Isle of Capri” scent
wafting from the Lampe Berger
was supposed to ensure
you
didn’t
walk up the stairs and ask,
“What’d you burn?”
Perhaps I’ve used this strategy
once too often?
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I am vaguely amused that the photo on the Lampe Berger homepage shows the exact lampe that I was using… (cough)
music-Skye Boat Song on harp May 29, 2014
Here’s a little break from ranting poems or pugilistic poetry! In honour of the upcoming Outlander TV show, here’s an ‘arrangement in progress’ I’ve made of The Skye Boat Song, which I’m betting is incorporated into the TV show theme.
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For the technically curious:
I am playing a double strung harp. (This was definitely easier before I had bifocals, though it was challenging enough then). There are three octaves on each side of the harp, tuned to the same notes. 44 strings in all. This is a low-head Celtic harp, in the style of the famous Irish Brian Boru harp or the Scottish Queen Mary harp. It is also known as a Scottish clarsach. Specifically, mine is a Brittany harp, built for me by Stoney End 15 years ago or so. (When I bought it the Canadian dollar was around 70c US, so it was pricey!) It still has its original strings! This says it’s a tough little harp, and that I’m a lazy harpist (some people change strings a couple of times a year, to keep the sound bright). It is made from a lovely, shimmery grained cherry and has a Baltic birch soundboard with a pretty inlay strip at the base of the strings. It keeps its tuning brilliantly- rarely needing more than a titch of adjustment here and there. This is a rare blessing in a harp!
Here are The Skye Boat Song lyrics as I say them to myself while I’m playing (which does not in any way imply they are the correct lyrics!)
Speed bonny boat like a bird on the wing
Onward the sailors cry
Carry the lad that’s born to be king
Over the sea to Skye!
Loud the winds blow
Loud the waves crash
Ocean’s a weary bed
La la la la
la la la la (< < < < pretty sure those aren’t the right lyrics)
Watch o’er your weary head
oh (That’s the soft D sounded to start back into the chorus)
Speed bonny boat… (etc)
I always thought somehow Flora McDonald was on this boat with him, but I think that’s just me.
I promise OJ the standard poodle is only sleeping, though he certainly does look dead. He is snoring now, in the exact same position.
poem- wall whispers February 2, 2014
Listen
to whispers,
stories in the wall.
Poems found,
Titles titillate,
tease, and
tantalize.
Writing on the wall
whispers
through the room.
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Last weekend I started wallpapering my dining room with pages from a book. I was given a copy of Diana Gabaldon’s Drums of Autumn last fall. I already have a copy, and the gift had a broken binding, so I pondered ways to use it for practical purpose. Today I’m putting the finishing touches on. Most of the wall layout is fairly straight-forward, but I had 9 extra inches that I centred, and there I’ve been playing. I’ve included copies of autographs we have in other Diana Gabaldon books (copied onto a blank page of the book to match perfectly). I’ve cut graphic bits from Part divisions and used them decoratively. I’ve taken chapter titles and made them into little poems. I’m really liking my very unique wall!
This is a close up on a ‘poem section’ made with section and chapter titles:
Je t’aime
beaucoup
passionnément
pas de tout.
Blame
Forgiveness
The toss of a coin.
Here are the dedications (John’s is actually in the copy of The Scottish Prisoner and says “For John- No one looks better than a man in a kilt!” Mine is in The Exile and says, “To Shawn, Wonderful to meet you in person!”):
Here’s a step back at the wall. The diamond medallions spaced across the top were from dividing pages:
found poem- chapter titles from MOBY by Diana Gabaldon December 12, 2013
Diana Gabaldon just posted the Chapter 82 to 94 titles for her next book in the Outlander series, entitled Written in My Own Heart’s Blood (aka MOH-B, aka MOBY) Those chapter titles were mixed to create this ‘found poem.’ Words in bold are Diana’s titles. Regular print and punctuation are mine. The fun with found poetry, is that one often senses something profound hovering just below understanding. Can you find a message here?
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Keeping Score:
One Day Cock of the Walk—Next Day, A Feather Duster
but
I Will Not Have Thee Be Alone
on the
Long Road Home
Through
Sundown
Nightfall
Moonrise or
The Sense of the Meeting
In Which Rosy-Fingered Dawn Shows Up Mob-Handed.
A Whiff of Roquefort
in
The House on Chestnut Street
reveals that
It’s a Wise Child Who Knows His Father
Oh yes, for
Even People Who Want to Go to Heaven Don’t Want to Die to Get There.
poem-false November 30, 2013
They lie
across my lids
stuck like caterpillars
Coyly magnifying
each magnificent blink,
each flirtatious flutter,
adding power to each
sultry glower,
Prepare prey
to be ensnared,
enter and be
rendered helpless,
as I flash
these false
eyelashes.
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Today is hubby’s birthday, and I managed to get these lashes back on (last worn on my birthday, see photo above). They’re fun, but they sure feel weird! 😉
video- wonderful start to Christmas November 24, 2013
This is absolutely delightful. Florence Baptist Temple in Burlington, Kentucky, USA sure put on a great show for their Singing Christmas Tree! These young men are quite awesome. In honour of the beginning of the Christmas season: Enjoy!
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poem- MOBY dreams (chapter titles found poem) November 18, 2013
Diana Gabaldon just released the next set of chapter titles (68-81) for her next novel, “My Own Heart’s Blood.” They looked like they were asking to be a poem, so now they are. I have taken the liberty of re-ordering them for my own purposes. She assures readers there are no spoilers, but I make no such promises. (ha!) I usually use phrases exactly as found, but in this case, the bold words are the titles, and anything not bolded is added for sense or transition (or my own entertainment).
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The Cider Orchard
High Noon
A Single Louse
In the Wrong Place at the Wrong Time
ponders the
Peculiar Behavior of a Tent, full of
Morasses and Imbroglios,
a Folie à Trois,
The Dangers of Surrendering to passion are,
The Sort of Thing That Will Make a Man Sweat and Tremble,
(and a louse, too) when it must
Go Out in Darkness.
Consider,
The Price of Burnt Sienna:
is a Sparrow-Fart
Among the Tombstones
Pater Noster
Holy louse,
wrong place, wrong time, indeed.
poem- button (on a blue shirt) September 11, 2013
I’m nuttin’
but a simple button.
battling the blues.
Holding fast
amid adversity
standing against stress and strain
I see you stare
I do not care.
While ripping seams are heard in dreams
accompanied by delirious screams
I’m a button with a function–
Keeping everything together
against the odds,
without applause.
For Sam, I can!
Because, madame
I do my button best
clinging lest things explode
against his chest.
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Dedicated to the button straining on that blue shirt. It has a Twitter account. Seriously.
video- wherein Shawn recites a tongue twister with increasing speed August 28, 2013
One of my stranger talents is the recitation of this tongue twister. My students over the years have been entertained, and the last couple of years they have encouraged me to record it for Youtube. Here it is at last! lol Enjoy! 😉
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The words are,
“Betty Botter bought some butter, but she said, the butter’s bitter. If I put it in my batter, it will make my butter bitter. So she bought a bit of butter, better than the bitter butter, and she put it in her batter and the batter wasn’t bitter. So t’was better Betty Botter bought a bit of better butter.”
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Shawn L. Bird 