(Poem #132 on new numbering scheme)
"Give us the alligator!" they tell me. I say, "Maybe later." "Teacher, you mean dictator!" Those kids, procrastinators!
– an englyn unodl union
Category: A Daily Poem
Caveat: Englyn #24
(Poem #131 on new numbering scheme)
About the rains in Mahhal, you might say most every day it falls; Beneath the constant gray pall, into your sad soul it crawls.
– an englyn unodl union about a fictional place, written by a fictional person
Caveat: Englynion #22-23
(Poem #130 on new numbering scheme)
A conspiracy of ants debated, congregated, danced. Some crickets sang in a trance, but the sun spared not a glance. The Californian earth cried, desperate for rain or wet, but sighed resigned to hot wind that dried the trees and grass. The hills died.
– a pair of englyn unodl union (caveat: this poem not reflective of the current weather outside).
Caveat: Englyn #21 “As mirrors will do”
(Poem #129 on new numbering scheme)
The mirror was reticent. It refused to be confused, intent on atmospherics, my bent face, the missing hair, silent.
– an englyn of indeterminate form
Caveat: Englyn #20
(Poem #128 on new numbering scheme)
A little fragment of art, seen walking: a face talking, a part of a skull - below, a heart. Modern? Anyway, a start.
– an englyn unodl union
Caveat: Englyn #19
(Poem #127 on new numbering scheme)
Winter is a guileless thing. December can't remember thinking about constraints: No inkling of glad rain or birds that sing.
– an englyn unodl union
Caveat: Englyn #18
(Poem #126 on new numbering scheme)
The tree was standing its ground; the wind blew. Broken leaves flew around. Branches wavered without sound. It all seemed nothing profound.
– an englyn unodl union
Caveat: Englyn #17 “At the day’s end”
(Poem #125 on new numbering scheme)
I got home from work at last - feeling numb. There were some clouds amassed. The hazy sky, overcast, allowed the dull sunlight past.
– this is an englyn unodl union
[daily log: walking, 6.5km]
Caveat: Englyn #16
(Poem #124 on new numbering scheme)
I had a student who said, "I like cats." Grinning, she sat, with tilted head. "I think they're cute," she added.
– an englyn
Caveat: Englyn #15
(Poem #123 on new numbering scheme)
A box lies on the sidewalk. Wind, in gusts, sighs, grasps and thrusts, starts to talk. The box, deaf, can only balk.
– an englyn penfyr
Caveat: Englyn #14
(Poem #122 on new numbering scheme)
I like to argue semantics, it is fun. The thoughts will run, do antics; then it all falls down like sticks.
– an englyn penfyr
Caveat: Englynion #12-#13 “Expressions of sentiment”
(Poem #121 on new numbering scheme)
Three students said they hate me, just today. That's what they say, to feel free from the stresses of study. Another student, leaving, left a note: "For years," she wrote. "Your teaching gave me a gift of meaning."
– more englynion penfyr. Note that the student’s quote is invented – no Korean ESL student writes in poetic forms – but I did receive a note with this type of message.
Caveat: Englyn #11 “Perhaps I shall feel some amorphous regret”
(Poem #120 on new numbering scheme)
Clustered red and brownish-gold - these last leaves fall; the world grieves, growing cold; then I begin to feel old.
– an englyn penfyr
Caveat: Englyn #10 “A broken caesura”
(Poem #119 on new numbering scheme)
Poetry is about nothing except... itself. Precepts be damned. No. Things speak in their moment. No.
– another englyn penfyr. I kind of broke the caesura rule, though, in the first line. I’ll get the hang of it…
Caveat: Englyn #9 “Immobilized”
(Poem #118 on new numbering scheme)
Dream feeling: being held down, like a moth, pinned, rendered slothful. Look: brown, piled leaves. So I wait. I frown.
The above is a syllabic poetic form called an englyn penfyr, a type of englyn, which is Welsh in origin but also written in English, historically, by poets with Welsh connections, such as W.H. Auden or Dylan Thomas.
I have decided this is the new poetic form I shall pursue obsessively, in sequel to my 99 nonnets. As best I can tell, I have posted 8 englynion previously on this blog, so this would be number 9. Englynion are not, typically, restricted to single stanzas – although they may be, too. However, for purposes of counting, I shall count each stanza separately, as it will help me to feel more prolific should I pursue enchained, longer poems.
[daily log: walking, 7km]
Caveat: Nonnet #99 “Sufficient enumeration”
(Poem #117 on new numbering scheme)
Ninety-nine nonnets are sufficient to show the possibilities of the short poetic form. Anyway, it's Fall now. I have made enough and I believe I should stop. I will stop.
This is my last nonnet. I will not be posting daily poetry while I travel in the US over the next two weeks, but hopefully can renew the habit, with a new genre, upon my return to Korea.
[This is an automated, pre-scheduled blog post – I expect I’m somewhere over the Pacific, right now.]
[daily log: sitting, 9657km]
Caveat: Nonnet #98 “The Platonist’s game”
(Poem #116 on new numbering scheme)
Purge. Remove. Clarify. Disassemble. Sketch odd diagrams. Display symbols in smoke. Design eschatologies. Retreat to a cave with shadows. Then live as if all those things were true.
– a reverse nonnet
Caveat: Nonnet #97 “The anti-apophenist”
(Poem #115 on new numbering scheme)
Don't imagine some hidden meaning. Interpret these signs easily. Those shadows in the corner, the patterns in the dust, the smooth, red apple perched on a shelf symbolize nothing. Dream.
– a nonnet
Caveat: Nonnet #96 “The resting time”
(Poem #114 on new numbering scheme)
Cold is just a stillness of small things. The vibrating atoms dance less. The world's mind spins more slowly, as motes of matter pause. Nobody sees it happen. But it happens. Some frost forms. Leaves rot. Snow.
– a nonnet
Caveat: Nonnet #95 “This nonnet is also a palindrome”
(Poem #113 on new numbering scheme)
Pain made signs using nerves and neurons. Then solitude replayed childhood and sadness wrought joy. But joy wrought sadness and childhood replayed solitude. Then neurons and nerves using signs made pain.
– a nonnet
Caveat: Nonnet #94 “An unconvincing spirit”
(Poem #112 on new numbering scheme)
"Boo," I said. "I'm a ghost." "You're not scary," my student complained. "Aw, but really I'm dead," I cheerfully insisted. "Why don't you believe your teacher?" She wasn't buying it, however.
– a reverse nonnet
Caveat: Nonnet #93 “Those fish”
(Poem #111 on new numbering scheme)
Did you see the city wherein hid multitudes despairing, its grid teeming under sky, across arms of the sea? And... did you see who controlled that sea? - I saw wherein lurked swimming fish.
– a nonnet
Caveat: Nonnet #92 “바!”
(Poem #110 on new numbering scheme)
A toddler child is staggering along with his mother and grandmother. The mom patters on with words - typical mother-speak. She points at some man, says, "Bye-bye hae."* The boy smiles. He says "Ba!"
– a nonnet
* linguistic note: the borrowing from English, “bye” (and “bye-bye”), is pretty fully nativized in Korean, used as an informal farewell by many people. “Bye-bye hae [해]” would mean “say bye-bye.” Of course, in Korean pronunciation, “bye” is two full syllables, “ba-i” (and “bye-bye” is four), and that breaks my poem, but anyway the vowel break is elided and diphthongized, so I’m going with the English pronunciation I guess.
Caveat: Nonnet #91 “The whirlwind”
(Poem #109 on new numbering scheme)
Clouds pile up and they push against the vague, hazy horizons. A wind from the northwest grasps at the recumbent leaves so that they panic and protest, leaving them coldly disconsolate.
– a reverse nonnet
Caveat: Nonnet #90
(Poem #108 on new numbering scheme)
Skulls and bones populate the imagery that drifts out, unsought, from those contemplations which accompany the fact that the dead cat I saw just now seemed to be merely in calm repose.
– a reverse nonnet
Caveat: Nonnet #89
(Poem #107 on new numbering scheme)
Let's imagine a dystopia: a strange future where things are weird. Unconsciousness is a crime punishable by death. The authorities dislike darkness. Don't get caught sleeping now.
– a nonnet
Caveat: Nonnet #88
(Poem #106 on new numbering scheme)
Students congregate along damp streets like water droplets in a mist, a brownian shivering on Fall's first chill evening, their various worries floating on words across gaps between them
– a nonnet
Caveat: Nonnet #87
(Poem #105 on new numbering scheme)
Hi, sad cat. What is it? Did you get lost? ... looks like you're hungry. I'm afraid to touch you. You might carry some disease. I saw you begging from those kids, earlier. You seemed to be happy.
– a reverse nonnet
Caveat: Nonnet #86
(Poem #104 on new numbering scheme)
Nothing comes easily, you know. Well, I admit, I can forget this terrible frustration sometimes. Nevertheless, simple stuff feels like trying to make a new poem out of dirt.
– a nonnet
[daily log: walking, 1km]
Caveat: Nonnet #85
(Poem #103 on new numbering scheme)
A strange madness took hold of his mind. He believed he was made of glass. "Please, do not touch me," he begged. He made the best of it, though, declaring that transparency was more pure; the soul, clear.
– a nonnet
Caveat: Nonnet #84
(Poem #102 on new numbering scheme)
I saw a scary caterpillar throbbing across the dull asphalt: a green fragment of muscle, alive like a zombie's, step, step, step, step, step. The little feet writhe toward waving grass.
– a nonnet
Caveat: Nonnet #83
(Poem #101 on new numbering scheme)
One day, an imaginary man went to Duluth, seeking stories. He stood on the mythic shore. Gray-green waves gnawed the sand. Some black flies spun doubts. He built machines with his words. The lake watched.
– a nonnet
Caveat: Nonnet #82
(Poem #100 on new numbering scheme)
A failure of communication with a few of my coworkers caused me to tell a student with a confident voice the exact wrong thing. She cried, asking, "Teacher, why did you lie?"
– a nonnet