Sijo for a recovering eye – Day 20

not even looking like a rock, not even feeling like a rock
a long time, something solid has made a home in my eye
it took a steady hand that I might see autumn flowers again

Benita H. Kape (c) 20.4.2021

Notes:

Today I’ve continued with what is going on with my eye. Yesterday as the ophthalmologist completed a longer than expected cataract operation he remarked that the cataract was solid. Today in review, his assistant referred to that cataract as a rock. But I’m amazed at how quickly the expected fuzziness is clearing. The autumn flowers are a reference to age as much as our current season.

“Our (optional) prompt for the day is to write a sijo. This is a traditional Korean poetic form. Like the haiku, it has three lines, but the lines are much longer. Typically, they are 14-16 syllables, and optimally each line will consist of two parts – like two sentences, or a sentence of two clauses divided by a comma. In terms of overall structure, a sijo functions like an abbreviated sonnet, in that the first line sets up an inquiry or discussion, the second line continues the discussion, and the third line resolves it with a “twist” or surprise. For more on the sijo, check out the primer here and a long list of examples in English, here.”

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A Google ads. & Bums on Table Rant – Day 19

A Google ads. & Bums on Table Rant

using some Shakespearean insults “plus”





My pale head having small thought for insults.

But I who wretchedly day by day in April

act upon prompts; am prompted to rant.





I must tell you friendly in your ear,

sell when you can, you are not for all markets.





Even as I search, Google advertisements assault

at every turn.





I scorn you, scurvy companion.





And on through my search Google ads., I tell you:





There’s no more faith in thee than a stewed prune.





Now that was a strange insult because I’ve never

lost faith in a stewed prune to move things along:

if you get my drift.





Google ads: you are like unto bums on a table;

and that, in my country, is an insult. More so

than Shakespearean insults a step further by

uttering the supreme insult thus. Pokokohau ma.

A literal “cooked heads.”





But that last curse I will leave for politicians.

I heard one pronounce this insult such

a short time ago. Both Maori, they know

the full extent of their insult exchange.

I’m not sure the matter was settled. An

hundred and forty years ago they’d have

bought on the war parties.





Benita H. Kape (c) 204.2021





Notes:

Insults to Maori (New Zealanders) =Bums on tables and pokokohau ma

“And last but not least, our prompt (optional, as always). Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a humorous rant. In this poem, you may excoriate to your heart’s content all the things that get on your nerves. Perhaps it’s people who tailgate when driving, or don’t put the caps back on pens after they use them. Or the raccoons who get into your garbage cans. For inspiration, perhaps you might look to this list of  Shakespearean insults. Or, for all of you who grew up on cartoons from the 1980s, perhaps this compendium of Skeletor’s Best Insults might provide some insight.”

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