Amanda Gorman purposely lit America’s spirit.
The Lark Ascending
In the style of George Meredith prompted by Ralph Vaughan Williams. Williams’ piece is one of classical music’s most popular tunes.
Drawing on past experience,
With curious indifference,
wind-surfers twist at Eagle Rock.
Two air-gliders soaring – Peacocks!
At Aireys, warm air rises, beach wide
as on Grampians mount, birds preside.
Oven-crisp wind lifts, whirls, skirls
The still, open area swirls
detached – silence broken – undone.
Lest the noisy cockatoo’s pun,
recall a complete parakeet,
Ariel acrobatics replete,
Plunging, over red clover, roll clear
Country air of blissful freedom.
Calling on past material
I recall how our ethereal,
birds screech loudly, as not to sing
like they do for a British king.
Little brown wings stretch over the earth,
all George Meredith’s verse wordless mirth.
Alauda arvenis – “The Lark
Ascending”, neat words promoted
120 lines of poetry devoted
blending- never condescending.
Rapt, ringing, on the jet sustain’d
Without a break, without a fall,
Sweet-silvery, sheer lyrical,
Perennial, quavering up the chord
Liike myriad dews of sunny sward (1)
Meredith’s bird singing – Dylan
Composer Ralph Vaughan Williams
In five note pentatonic scale,
Wrote a radiant telltale,
Of music fit for English kings –
opening chords – violin strings.
(1) excerpt from The Lark Ascends, George Meredith.
Forget my poem. Please find Vaughan Williams tune “The Lark Ascending” and relax for 15 or 16 minutes with one of the most beautiful tunes.
Is rock on on the rocks?
Through retracing response
I have been reading seriously. To lighten my distracted mind I have attempted to create something neoteric in the manner as AI programs might. Let me explain – from Dr Nick’s thesis I chose one random word from each of the next 28 pages starting at page 16. My questions are: Does speed reading help us distil meaning? Or, Does choosing random words enable us to provide novel ideas?
Dr Nick is our son. Like his siblings he makes us proud by overachieving. (Not sure where the overachieving gene comes from – pleased our children have it.) Just the same I hope he forgives this trivialisation of his study.
We see life
We see life
And the next
Treads beyond exhaustion
Prompted by loss of sleep
To smell the garbage of
A futile suburban life
How the nuclear family
To aid and manage
Thirsty children close
To teatime tantrums
The abstract tableau
Of monochrome paint
Reels in heat haze
Thrown at the rinsed out
Crisp lines of rotting edifices
As buildings crumble
On the hill of decay
We see life.
I have just discovered Ekphrastic Review poetry after following janedougherty.wordpress.com
You can find her work as selected by https://www.ekphrastic.net/
The meaning of writing about works of art- expressed as ekphrastic writing is found here. https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ekphrasis
I found the exercise an enjoyable challenge.
Prompted me to read
Obviously pressed a button
That spat out art
The work emerged
By … mathematical formula
Was named Le Comte de Belamy
Listed it among the works of fifty famous artists
Proclaiming the work as new
Based as it was
On 1,500 scanned portraits
Of actual works by paint masters
Purchaser proclaimed it
“grotesque and amazing at the same time.”
Estimated to sell
As it cost time to produce
At ten thousand
With one in the room and one on the phone
In twenty eighteen
Pierre Fautrel, Gauthier Vernier, and Hugo Caselles-Dupré.
And GAN are names to watch
Four hundred and thirty-two thousand
If my little Box Brownie had taken colour prints
Before A.I. ………………My art could have made me rich.
AI was used to replicate poetry at last year’s poetry day (21 March 2019.) The photo below is one of five poems generated by artificial Intelligence to be read that day. Here is Various Weathers.
Expressing and recording your personal history is vitally important in its own right. It needs no further justification or rationalization.Singular Vision
Our experience of life has an internal, and an external expression. When thoughts are recorded we are enabled to “see” the invisible thoughts of the individual. Whatever is produced need not be earth shattering. As this piece illustrates.
As the artist and the subject, you can’t judge what’s important or what isn’t. You have to leave that to others. Do you think that Beethoven could have told you that the 5th and 9th symphonies were going to be really important and the 6th and 7th weren’t going to be? No, he was just Beethoven doing his Beethoven thing.
Just as well. The world would be poorer without Beethoven’s music. I can’t choose as they all have a place in my life, but The Pastoral relaxes me.
Why does one read? I recommend you visit http://sydweedon.org/2019/12/30/singular-vision/
My work is as scrambled as my brain according to Faerie. My written words are no different. This entry is prompted by “Almost” an article a new reader has posted on WordPress. I was prompted to write a response to him when I read this quote of his just after R visited. Here is his quote and my response to his article.
“The artist’s main goal is to create.
The craftsman wants a finished product”.
Cristian Mihal. Irevuo WordPress.
To “Almost” I responded.
This quote from your post explains to me why I have half finished projects everywhere and why I felt put out when a friend came over. He was in my shed and he found a piece of wood he had given me 2 years ago. I have almost finished carving a figurine but I reached that stage months ago and it lies unfinished. He said, It’s time to get out the Dremmel to get rid of these marks, as he rubbed at my chisel marks. I do have work to do certainly. Yet I want to show how the figure was made so the marks will stay.
The photo is of detail from my unfinished work.
Chip, chip. Please leave your mark before you leave, or stay to read more. Chip, chip.
The embarking passengers ran to the taxi rank and opened the door pausing just long enough to flick water from the rain soaked umbrella before they climbed into the cab. The driver, wearing a checked shirt embossed with the logo “13 cabs” on the collar asked, “Where to”? “Recital Centre Kavanagh Street South Melbourne”. The reply was sufficient information for the driver to perform a quick U -turn, taking advantage of the sudden break in the traffic. In the first two hundred metres the wheels bottomed out of every water filled pothole on the city road. Suddenly the female passenger cried, “Stop! I have lost Il Cannone Guarnerius. I thought you had it”, she wept to her male companion. “I have”, he calmly replied, as he flicked aside his overcoat and showed her the violin case resting on his lap. “That was close. Ok you can keep going”. The diver turned to her and asked, “When we get there can I play with you? You play? “First Violin in my homeland orchestra. I always have my Stradivarius with me, but since I came here as a refugee I have to drive this taxi”.
Image ref. Nanooze.com
No sound was made recording this scene. Tell me, what music best suits this scenario?
If you liked this piece then I hope you can find something else to like before you leave.