Vacations

Oz has been on vacation this summer, inspired by a bit of Walt Whitman.

“O highway I travel, do you say to me, Do not leave me? Do you say, Venture not—if you leave me you are lost? Do you say, I am already prepared, I am well-beaten and undenied, adhere to me?”

Once there was a man
who filmed his vacation
with his camera,
shooting this and shooting that
despite the fact his daughter said
Knock it Off!
dad, she said
you’re missing all the fun.

Through the eye of the lens
he thought
he saw it all until there
was nothing left to see,
but only then did he find
He missed it all.

Rivers, trees, canyon, hills, and skies
He kept them all neatly in a box
Until December.
Preserved
But not remembered
And then forgot and lost the box

Let it rain

Here in the Land of Oz it has been hot for two weeks with temperatures in the triple digits. Head phones on, listening to Phil Collins – I wish it would rain, I go for a run and the sweat pours down, down on me.

Ha, ha. Running in the rain, I must be insane, there is thunder and lightning, and it is really quite frightening, one, two, three, flash, as I splash through the water, I am soaked to the bone and my phone is getting wetter, I am going fast, betting it won’t last, Holy guacamole, I am thoroughly splattered, not that it matters, but I better take cover, because mother, it’s is stupid and only a deluded doofus would find this so much fun…

 

Listen to Phil – I wish it would rain, rain down, on me, featuring Eric Clapton.

Brief bits

A novel
Is a short story
Gone wrong
Inadvertently
Succinctly said
A short story is better
But a poem puts it
Perfectly

Checking in and out

Checked my computer for emails, posts, and tweets; found there is nothing needing my attention, so, I am checking out, mindful that:

What we do we may partly compute, but what we experience can only be felt.

And what we say will never be understood by those who don’t experience life as it really is.

To my first Irish visitor, a blessing

 

Blessed be the butterflies – An Irish blessing

May children in fields of flowers run
To pick daisies, to let petals fall one by one
Until each and every child
Finds a love truly won
And before this day is done
May butterfly wings kiss the sun.
And find your hand to light on
To bring you luck, if luck is what you need
Today, forever and beyond.

Some place, some day.

Thoughts on the movie La La Land – It was La La Land until there was Moonlight.

There are dreamers and doers and if I could be but one, I suppose I’d rather dream of things to be when I leave Oz. To go some day to some place I long to go, might just spoil the dream.

Far away, there is a cabin on the lake I long to go. I will someday but will it be too late?

Loin, il y a une cabane sur le lac que j’ai envie d’y aller. Je vais un jour, mais sera-t-il trop tard?

Final thoughts

blue summer dreams
dragonflies in the sun
my page is empty

© Lize Bard writes a blog which I follow @ https://wandererhaiku.wordpress.com/

That is a sad parting thought for 2016. I would prefer:

dreams of golden summer days
iridescent dragonflies fluttering in the air
my notebook is empty
until I pick up my pen again

Of course, that is not strictly Haiku, and it is wordy. Haiku should be a poem of seventeen syllables, in three lines of five, seven, and five, evoking an emotional image of the natural world.

golden summer days
iridescent butterflies
my mind is empty

Matsuo Basho is the recognized Japanese master of the haiku and here is his poem to a frog jumping into an old pond:

古池
蛙飛び込む
水の音

Fu-ru (old) i-ke (pond) ya,
ka-wa-zu (frog) to-bi-ko-mu (jumping into)
mi-zu (water) no o-to (sound)

Many are the English translations, so let me throw my hat into the ring:

In an ancient pond
A frog plunges in – kerplop
One hears water’s sound

Sometimes it is nice to be a frog sitting on the bank and a dragonfly comes by, gulp, that’s a snack, and you want to jump in the water so you don’t have to share.

 

 

Three thoughts

Three thoughts came to me – a poem, some verse, and an axiom.

Is it possible?
I ask
To step outside one’s self
Sans eyes, ears, touch, mouth
And be someone or something else
A leaf fluttering high above in a tree
Water flowing below over a rock
A bird in flight
Looking down at me
I ask myself,
But who then is there to reply?

To exist is nothing. To be happy we must struggle against the odds – to “pull our cart out of the mud,” and move forward while others remain impassively stuck and railing against the mindless elements that have placed them where they are. Move on. For it is only from a distance that we can see truly who we are. The only remaining question is whether we shall do this with the help of friends or by ourselves.

No matter how bad it is it can always be worse, said the cynic. And Pandora replied, you dope, there is always hope.

Crabtree Falls, North Carolina at off mile marker 339 on the Blue Ridge Parkway

Money

Money

Sing a song of sixpence,
A penny for your thoughts
Two bits if you give a damn
Money doesn’t matter
Even to a wealthy king like Croesus
All his gold could not buy a cup of water
Baked on a pyre,
Burned with a fire
By the Persian Cyrus

Here I am a rich man
Standing outside St. Peter’s gate
Banging on the door, waiting to enter
Yelling and telling anyone who will listen,
Let me in, I am a rich man
Inside, I hear voices of the angels,
Saying, soft as a prayer,
In a heavenly choir
Sing a song of sixpence,
A penny for your thoughts
Two bits if you give a damn,

Now, take your money to hell