Categories
Writing

Elements of Poetry

I sometimes think that a poet is really a frustrated engineer. Or is it, an engineer is a frustrated poet?

Researching what kind of metadata one could capture about a poem, I’ve found that there are a goodly number of rules and restrictions when it comes to poetry. More than I’m aware of from my limited education in the form.

Thankfully there are sites such as this one, virtualLit an online, free, and interactive poetry tutorial that covers the elements in poetry, using three poems as examples of each: “The Fish” by Elizabeth Bishop; “To His Coy Mistress” by Andrew Marvell; and “My Papa’s Waltz” by Theodore Roethke.

What I’m discovering in my researches is that one uses one set of elements to find a poem, but a different set to understand it, both mechanically and sensuously. For instance, wanting to find poems that use the concept of birds as freedom would use the element of metaphor; but once found, then other elements, such as the poem’s poetic form could not only help the reader appreciate the art of the poem, but better understand the craft of poetry.

It is through better knowledge of the craft that we discover new ideas, such as a poetic form that’s based purely on visuals, called concrete poetry, where I found a link to this site that features extraordinary visual haiku.

Categories
Just Shelley

TiBook battery saga continues

The Apple Store is in the West County Mall, a very upscale and large mall that’s only about twenty minutes away. This was my first time in one of these, and my first reaction was that they must still be moving in. However, I was assured that the white, empty spaces made it easier to look at the products.

I showed the TiBook to the ‘genius bar’ guy, and he’d never heard of the stuck TiBook battery before, and went to look it up in whatever genius bar guy manuals there was. It would have been better just to check the Internet, though.

Anyway, he said that he thinks the rim that holds the battery is broken and that’s why it’s stuck. Since this isn’t covered under warranty (“But it’s a known design defect!” “I don’t know about that, but look at the wear at the latch.” “But that’s because of me trying to get the battery unstuck!”), it will cost me about $250.00+ to fix it. Big ouch.

He was also cool and mentioned a couple of other places that do Mac repair and how they might be able to fix the battery without replacing anything. So there is that. However, I think it’s going to cost, and I’m not ready to do this.

Right now I have about 2 1/2 hours of battery life when fully charged, and that’s usually enough for sitting at the coffee shop, uploading work, downloading work, catching up with the weblogs, and email. I’ll probably just keep things as is until the battery gets worse, and then I’ll look at upgrading the memory in addition to fixing the battery when I take it in. With this, my TiBook should be good for at least another 2-3 years. Considering I bought this about five years ago, that’s not bad.

While I was waiting for the ‘genius’, I looked around at all the new gadgets the store carried. The company has a real thing for white, silver, and blue, doesn’t it? Made me feel like I should put on a virginal white robe and bath in a bath of fragrant herbs, first, before entering the store. Or is it black t-shirts with little bitten white apples?

Also, is the company philosophy consist of “why do things square when you can do things rounded, eh?” However, if you’re thinking of getting one of those new 12-inch PowerBook, think again. I mistook one of them for a really big iPod until I realized what it was. Speaking of which, there was a silver gray kind of blobby thing, which I think was a speaker system and holder for an iPod. I do wonder about the Apple design people and their use of drugs at times.

Most of the printers were Epson, but when I asked about the 300 the salesguy said I would have to download printer drivers for it, the printer is so new. I asked if I’d have to use CUPs, and he went, use what? Hee hee hee – so much for genius. I think the store should hire me; I look good in black.

Categories
Writing

The Historian

Born too late in a strange land,
lost with love of a people
you can never claim.
Living a time you can never know.
Touching flyleaf of book
as hand of friend.
Surrounded by plain walls that can’t
keep you safe, from sepia
faces with delicate tints.
You walk streets you resent
because your prints are misplaced.
You drink of waters faint
as fog and myth.
You don’t see me because
I’m too real. I’m messy and chaotic,
and speak words you can hear.
I walk in light, no stones lie on me.
Smell of sweat and soap,
not flowers decayed.
I am less real to you than images
in print and paint.
In your mind, less real than
beauties in a field scattered about;
like painted bluebirds on fragile teacup.
Your life ended when
Atom’s fire blossomed,
Your time started when the ashes
had cleared.

Categories
Books

Beauty and the Beast

There is one story for Kitchen I’m working on called “When Beauty becomes the Beast”. It’s about the CBS Documents and their impact on weblogging (not to mention weblogging’s impact on the CBS investigations). For some reason this subject saddens me a bit–as if we’re seeing the end of something that once was and we won’t have again. Yet webloggers point to this event with pride; a shining moment of triumph, and vindication, for weblogging.

Oddly enough, I got the title for the story because the incident reminds me of an extremely well written article by Terri Windling about the tale of Beauty and the Beast. In the article, Ms. Windling traces the history of the story and its various incarnations, as well as the influences of society on the story over time–in writing that’s lucid and entertaining.

One phenomena of the story she notes is how sympathetic the Beast was made; to the point that readers experience disappointment when the Beast turns into the Prince at the end of the story. Windling wrote about a play that actually focused on this disappointment:

In the 20th century the story was subtly altered again. In 1909, French playright Fernand Nozier wrote and produced an adult version of Beauty and the Beast with a fashionable Oriental flavor. Nozier’s rendition is humorous, yet beneath its light surface the play explores a distinctly sexual subtext, and the duality of body and spirit. In this version, all three sisters find themselves powerfully attracted to the Beast. When Beauty’s kiss turns him into a man, she complains: “You should have warned me! Here I was smitten by an exceptional being, and all of a sudden my fiancé becomes an ordinary, distinguished young man!”

This play was created in 1909 but, oh, I would wish that this version be staged today. I would pay money–real money– to see it, just to hear that last line said within the ambiance mentioned in the writing.

Windling discusses the Disney version of the film, which she liked and had many favorable things to say on it; but she also thought that much of the strength of the original tale was lost in Disney’s effort to make the tale safe. At the end of her article she asked, whether it mattered:

In Disney’s beautiful animated version of Beauty and the Beast, we take one step forward with the creation of a literate and courageous heroine, and two steps backwards as the heart of the tale is lost in the musical razzle-dazzle. But hey, the film is entertaining and fun. Young Lillian and I enjoyed it thoroughly. So should we care about what’s been lost in the process?

In my opinion, you bet we should. It does no service to lie to children, to present the world as simpler than it is. Villains rarely appear with convenient black hats, good people are rarely perfect. Beauty has gone to Hollywood now. Poor Beauty. Poor Beast. Poor us.

Something to remember, as I write my post on webloggers and the CBS Documents, and how beauty can turn beastly: good people are rarely perfect, and good intentions less so.

Windling also pointed to a poem about Beauty and the Beast by Jane Yolen, called “Beauty and the Beast: An Anniversary” that I rather liked. It made me think of growing old with someone, and how nice it sounded:

It is winter now, and the roses are blooming again, their petals bright against the snow. My father died last April; my sisters no longer write, except at the turning of the year, content with their fine houses and their grandchildren. Beast and I putter in the gardens and walk slowly on the forest paths. He is graying around the muzzle and I have silver combs to match my hair. I have no regrets. None. Though sometimes I do wonder what sounds children might have made running across the marble halls, swinging from the birches over the roses in the snow.

Categories
Writing

A return to writing

The next three days are going to be horrid, weatherwise, so I can return to writing. In addition, I’ve had a response from the MediaWiki developers and a solution to the problem with the wiki may be in sight, soon.

I have a couple of essays on Smart Mobs, one using photos (natch), and a couple on Collaboration that I hope to get through tomorrow, and then I’ll be finally caught up. I did hesitate though on some of the writing.

Though I can write with a velvet thread one moment–the words soft on the page, melancholy and bright–the next I’ll dip a hawk’s feather into a fine vintage acid, and etch my words into the aether. Did I want to be critical at the Kitchen? Scathing? Biting? Burning?

Luckily, I hesitated only a moment, so my usual writing will be appearing tomorrow–after I have my fix of weblog writing here, and posting some photos ; photos I hope you’ll find interesting. I can guarantee there will be some different views.

I did want to thank all of those who have participated so wonderfully on the first day. Not only with writing, but also comments, and stylesheets. Maybe it’s just me, but the Kitchen has a very alive feel to it; I wonder if it’s because there are no barriers to entry, and all views are welcome and treated equally? Somewhat like weblogging, eh?

Many thanks, and I hope everyone had fun, and continues to have fun.

Now, before I start posting photos and related writing, a bit of lovely whimsy. Rob from UnSpace passed on a new, and rather interesting meme that’s making the rounds:

Lynn at Reflections in d minor asks “What would your blog look like if it were a room?” She has many answers over at her blog.

I responded to Rob that I would have to find the aftermath of a barroom brawl to photograph to represent my weblog.

Still, there are those moments of velvet, soft and sensuous, when I barely touch the page, and your attention, with my words and photos. Or other times when Pan has me in his grip, and I jump about the page in mad abandon. Also, let’s not forget the science and the technology, when I try to channel Einstein, and usually get one of the Marx brothers, instead.

What kind of room could contain this madness other than a padded one? So that’s what my blog would look like, if it were a room.