Category Archives: Wordweaving

On Seeing John Waterhouse's My Sweet Rose

 

John Waterhouse, My Sweet Rose, 1908. Photo courtesy of jwwaterhouse.com
John Waterhouse, My Sweet Rose, 1908. Photo courtesy of jwwaterhouse.comWea

Contemplate in all detail
A scintillating allegory
Integrating to avail
Alated visions of the story
Of a maid's respiratory,
Hortatory adoration
Of a floral territory:
Horticultural elation.

Ruminate this painted tale,
Instilling senses desultory
Till the slated sights regale
Your appetite for gustatory
Stimulation, for the glory
Of this vernal fascination
Inundates one category:
Horticultural elation.

Penetrating import's veil,
Distill the scents explanatory,
Requiring that the maid inhale,
Allowing that her laudatory
Attitude be prefatory,
Topiary recreation
Finishing her repertory:
Horticultural elation.

Devotion to this inventory,
Flights of the imagination,
Are baited by obligatory
Horticultural elation.

~David Byron, ca. 1990, for Cathie

A Jingle from the Lockheed Skunk Works

There's no confusion!
We aim to implement fusion!
It's a tougher catch than lightning in a bottle.

But we can do it!
We made the Blackbird and flew it,
And we circumnavigated at full throttle.

Yes, some are skeptical
That our receptacle,
For holy fire might be a mayonnaise jar.

So we'll assure 'em,
Our R&D is kosher for Purim,
And this'll be our best result by far!

Hedge funds: don't short us!
Federal watchdogs: don't report us!
It'll take a while, so journalists: rake some muck!

Still, we're not kidding.
We're doing DARPA's bidding,
And soon we'll ship reactors on a truck!

(WaPo on Lockheed)

Rearrangements, part two: A Passover/Easter Exhortation

This poem is the second part of a diptych. To read the first part, already posted, follow this link.

A Passover/Easter Exhortation

When winter, winter days, and dramatic rains,
Arrange with memories in ink and fiction,
Ascribing each benediction to the reigns
Of blessed change and heavenly restriction,
Their season’s preferred font of color let
Bestow with frigid hand a painted touch,
Chromatically whispering even its palette,
And reason a distraction to the brush.
In essence winter day too long decrying,
Thy lip and constancy’s eye, by short diction, tear
The given center. Why, wonted sky denying,
With word take aim, selection and objection their
Reaction? Whether winter be loss, the other teach,
Meet me, thy mate, in the periphery of each.

~David Byron for Cathie

Rearrangements, part one: A Christmas Prayer

A Christmas Prayer

Decrying constancy's loss in change,
When winter reigns, bestow a benediction.
Each heavenly tear its mate in ink arrange
And color the frigid winter with other diction,
Denying even the season's wonted selection
Of font and fiction. Palette in lip, hand, eye,
Teach me to meet with reason each objection,
The winter rains. Take aim and touch the sky,
Thy brush whispering whether and winter and why,
Chromatically ascribing. Let the distraction
Of days too short to long– their periphery
Restriction, their center dramatic reaction–
Be painted with memories of a day preferred,
And given essence by Thy blessed Word.

~David Byron for Cathie
in the winter of 1991.

This poem is part one of two. Here's the follow-on poem.

Pompeii

It was a formidable task, but agitators or Alinskyites have finally managed to pit the workers against the founders:

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1IugvemOyZY&w=480]

By such is my muse newly stirred: Empirical lurkers,
We're studying workers,
And hoping to model their nest.

We've come from the foundry
To size up the boundary
And feel that old Al does it best.

We've taken great pains
To see no ant remains;
We've worked hard to effect their premoval.

You'll be happy to learn, the
New method would earn the
Fourteenth Dalai Lama's approval.

An Ode from Ur-Dad

While off to meander
The vale of Neander
I once took a gander at some lovely gal.

She was low in the hip
And smart as a whip,
But that brow ridge! It made me her pal.

I said, "Though I'm cro-magnon,
I'll be yer companion,
If you'll join me now down in the valley."

With a come-hither look,
My comparatively frail hand she took,
And we down toward the river did sally.

With no hint of neurosis,
We danced the meiosis,
And maybe a tango or two.

And that's why knuckle-dragger
Snips, like a stone dagger
Enhancing your swagger,
Now make you a bragger
'bout the chromosomes that she left to you.

Neanderthal

On Sapiosexuality

It may seem a mite unwholesome
To lust after a corpus callosum,
That hard body inviting fixation
On mammillary fornixation,
But I'm told there's temporally more sex
In proportion to a convoluted cortex,
And that with decreased neural density
Come connective intensity
And a naturally selective propensity.
So don't be hesitant to probe.
There's nothing like falling in lobe!

Discerning – A Meditation

Today, embrace the sun and moon,
Pose questions to the rocks and clouds,
Consider ripples in the sea,
And delve into the dust of doubt.

Engaging them, take time to see
That each announces not itself
Alone, but one, strong, fair, and true,
Who them displays, whose word all wealth
Now allocates to large and small,
Including you within some scope,
Governing cosmic, quantum, all,
A ground of mystery and hope.

So when you ponder, ask, and reach,
Give time to see as well as show.
Discerning means and motives, learn
To shape and teach as well as know.