Tuesday, October 6, 2009

To bend the truth























The truth can be buckled

perverted or bent

Embellished or trimmed

to disguise what you meant

Twizzled and twisted

Misrepresentation

Distorted in gross altered

amplification




Monday, August 31, 2009

What is a Spiderling?

























Under a log
From round woolly sacks
An untidy web hatches baby red-backs

In fourteen days
And fourteen nights
Red-back spiderlings take to flight

By the light of the moon
Through a rustle of leaves
Red-back spiderlings float on the breeze

Flimsy and weightless
Like bubble bath foam
Red-back spiderlings search for a home

Free to discover
What destiny brings
Left to their fate red-back spiderlings

Sunday, June 28, 2009

The Beach




























The beach is like an empty slate
A hungry child
That cannot wait
Eager for the day’s surprises
Feasts of feet, all different sizes

Squid boats see the day begin
Pumpkin sun
with fiery grin
licks the dunes with orange glow
as I’m poised on tippy-toe

Sandy canvass meets the shore
Waits to see
what I will draw
One step, two step round it goes
Swirls with sand between the toes

Soon, with artists all around
Footsteps flash
across the ground
Squealing children in the sun
Painting patterns as they run

Time to go it’s getting late
Waving waves
refuse to wait
Slowly, slowly up they creep
Wipe the slate with one clean sweep

Thursday, May 7, 2009

Bedraggled




























A paw in a puddle
A cat in a muddle
She tiptoes in vain
to get out of the rain
And howls at the door
to loudly complain

Wet to the skin
Looking comically thin
We fluff her and puff her
and wrap her in towels

ignoring her howls as
she wriggles and squirms
we each take our turn
to ensure that her fur
is as soft as her purr

Sunday, March 22, 2009

Poetic Terminology







Recently I have been trying to understand, in a technical sense, what it is I do by ear alone. I have been writing and editing rhyming poems/stories in verse for quite a few years now and I know what sounds good but I've never really understood why it sounds good. Of course what I am talking about is meter - the rhythm of language, our language.

Meters are regularized rhythms. An arrangement of language in which the accents occur at apparently equal intervals in time. Each repeated unit of meter is called a foot. A foot then is made up of two or more syllables that together make up the smallest unit of rhythm in a poem.

The easiest to way to explain, I think, is by example. In the English language there are five common feet...

Iamb– 2 syll - a-VOID; pre-TEND; the RUSH (unstressed followed by stressed)

Trochee– 2 syll - ON-ly; TO-tal (stressed followed by unstressed).

Spondee– 2 syll - SHOE-SHINE (equally accented).

Anapest- 3 syll - in-ter-VENE; for-a-WHILE (two unstressed followed by one stressed).

Dactyl-3 syll - MER-ri-ly; LOV-er boy (one stressed followed by two unstressed).


Rising Meter

Anapaestic and iambic meters are called rising meters because they move from an unstressed syllable to a stressed syllable.

Falling Meter

Trochaic and dactylic meters are called falling meters because they move from stressed to unstressed syllables.


Rhythm

Rhythm can be measured in poetry in terms of stressed to unstressed syllables and it is measured in feet.

When we analyse the poem below - The Old House we discover that it provides an example of trochaic tetrameter. (tetrameter = 4 feet)

The Old House can be classified as trochaic because each foot consists of 2 syllables, one accented syllable followed by one unaccented one.

You will also note that the last syllable is often omitted to end the line with an accented syllable or as you'll see in verse 1, the unaccented syllable commences the next line but doesn't interfere with the rhythm as we are expecting an unaccented syllable to follow the previous accented one.

In a trochaic line of verse, a line thus shortened is termed catalectic (see verse 2 for a perfect example of this.)




The Old House in trochaic tetrameter.




Driving / on the / country / road


With heavy / eyes in / sleepy / mode


Ghostly / fingers / creep to/wards


The house with / peeling / weather/boards



Nestled / snug be/neath the / hill


Peeling / paint from / window/sill


Flakes like / dandruff / crack and / fall


Etched ne/glect on / every / wall


If you'd like to continue analysing the rest of the poem, please feel free to do so.

Thursday, February 19, 2009

The Old House




























The Old House

Driving on the country road
With heavy eyes in sleepy mode
Ghostly fingers creep towards
The house with peeling weatherboards

Nestled snug beneath the hill
Peeling paint from windowsill
Flakes like dandruff crack and fall
Etched neglect on every wall

Windows weep their tattered lace
Stare beyond the weathered face
Seeking times before the haze
Rest on memory’s happy days

Barking dogs and laughing smiles
Echoed dreams across the miles
Nimble fingers worked towards
Freshly painted weatherboards

Now as distance waves goodbye
A puppy yapps at starry sky
While ancient man with youthful stride
Tips his hat and goes inside

Sunday, February 1, 2009

To Catch a Dewdrop





















Between the wooden fence posts
Is where to set your net
Though best to try to make one of your own
You’ll need the smallest needle
And the most exquisite thread
For it must be the finest ever sewn

Imagine you’re creating
Reams of silken fairy lace
Each stitch must be exact without exception
Then hang it from the fence posts
Like a veil between the space
A doily matched by none in its perfection

Leave the net till morning
And then check it with the sun
Though best to go at dawn when day is new
Where you might spy some other nets
You’re not the only one
Cause spiders like to capture dewdrops too.