Before I say goodbye to haiku, I would like to recognize two pivotal players in making this month's plogging happen: my index finger and thumb. They had to count about 33% more syllables than the other fingers, and they did so with the honor of a samurai master. Arigato, finger-san.
August's last poem:
My final Haiku
Shoes and ships and sealing wax,
Haiku'ed about lots.
Stay tuned for the announcement of September's poem type....
First, I have made it to 200+ hits. I estimate that the percentage that are actually attributed to me is decreasing. Second, it is the end of a month and therefore the end of a certain kind of plogging.* That's right, haiku has had its time in the limelight and now it must retire to the area outside of Mendocino and do community theater to make way for newer, younger, more perky poetry.
Third, and most importantly, I got a blog-to-blog shout out from one of the funniest peeps I know. (Or don't know, if you are trying to figure out who I am, weird internet stalker.) I would like to cross-shout-out her blog so check it out: Smaller Adventure
I've made it! haiku:
Mentioned by the best,
Make her laugh and you're worthy.
She's a blog icon.
* Plogging = poetic blogging. I just made it up so put down that dictionary.
Yes, IN her mouth. You see, The Monster likes to chase flying insects. I honestly I don't mind that little indiscretion because she keeps our home relatively fly-free and she spits them right out.
Well my nurturing of this habit apparently gave her the courage to take on bigger insects because while she was outside yesterday she tried to eat a wasp. Obviously they have a better defense mechanism than flies do and that is how she got stung.
I fed her a Benadryl, but she started to look groggy and stumble around so I took her in to the emergency vet.
It turns out The Monster was having a reaction to the sting and the Benadryl helped, but I did not even think twice about the possible price tag before taking her in for a probably small thing. So I guess I am a huge animal softy.
And now that I have that off my chest, I would also like to admit, sometimes I actually do try and reason with her.
Canine oral wasp sting haiku:
Wasp sting on her tongue.
Could effect getting kisses
If it starts to swell.
[Ed. note: A huge shout out to Jeanie who found a nearby clinic online and talked me through the whole ordeal even though she is a doctor for people, not dogs. Also it was a Sunday.]
Anyway, I am absolutely tickled pink about their programming choices...until recently. They have really gone and done it now - the network executives have alienated (pun intended) their nerdy customer-base by changing their name to the SYFY channel. What the heck is that?
SyFy is stupid haiku:
Syfy. Looks like a
Dumb nickname for syphilis.
Don't erase your past.
Ok we are clearly in a recession. I just heard an ad on the radio for Spam. The ad claimed that cooking with Spam will "break the monotony." If a single color, textureless food out of a can is breaking the monotony for people, this country is much worse off than I thought.
Help us Obama!!
Spam haiku:
Spam, still seems traif,* though
It may not contain real ham.
Looks like food from space.
*For all you goys out there, traif = not kosher.
And was it really haiku-ing about life if no one reads them?
Blog access denied
A tree falls in the forest.
No one hears the thought.
Someone [coughs while saying Schutze] has confused good investigative journalism with snarky, fact-indifferent articles about "the man" and his "minions." Plus the intros to news articles in the style of high school creative writing class are gag-inducing.
The concert info, restaurant, and movie reviews sections are still absolutely awesome, but this city (or possibly just me?) suffers greatly by not having middle-of-the-road coverage on local politics and events. God knows we can't trust the DMN for that.
You know how the Financial Times prints on pink paper? Well the Observer writing is so sensationalist that they should print feature articles on yellow paper so readers could immediately recognize the kind of journalism used. Zing!
Dallas Observer
I observe: arts sections - rock!
Feature stories - crap.
*Just in case you don't live in Dallas, are illiterate, or have never seen the lining of a local homeless person's push cart, I shall tell you this: the Dallas Observer is free.
I also learned that my writing looks like a child's cursive lesson. But really, is good penmanship really such an important skill anymore?
And without the computer, I can't take notes in outline format like I usually do because I am too scared to commit to a structure in ink. Typing is just so much more temporary. Maybe my generation's commitment issues now extend to note taking. So sad.
Power haiku:
I have no power
to entertain myself when
I've no power cord.
[Ed. note: I edited this post about eleven times in six minutes and I still don't like the use of the word "I've" in the last line so I may edit it again. Commitment issues!]
Here is another short haiku I wrote about how I feel after spending 2 months without most of my "stuff" and then coming home to a tiny but very full house.
Clutter
You own me.
Too much!
[Ed. note: I felt like Michelle Tanner, above, from Full House...get it...because of the show? She was on the show called Full..oh you did get it.]
A friend and I spent a day in England making fun of how Americans did this (by playing obnoxious American with each other) and it was quite liberating. I think acknowledging that bias and consciously expelling it was a personal improvement, until the other day when I had to wait in line at the school IT desk behind some first year students. Doesn't a mature student get to go to the front of the line?!? Stinkin' new folks.
Entitlement haiku:
Entitlement means
I get things I didn't earn
Or else I complain.
[Editor's note: I just found this one in my drafts, it is from when I was in England.]
Here is one thing I will not miss about England: talk of the swine flu. I think the constant discussion of basic mutated cold germs and how to avoid them is worse than getting the actual flu.
Germs hang in the air.
Suspect sneezers and the young.
Wash hands well. Swine flu.
My friend has a really cool story: When she was 18 she decided to take a European vacation. Because of a combination of random reasons, she ended up spending an unplanned night in Switzerland where she happened to meet a guy. He was cute, polite, and had a very exotic sounding name. He took his afternoon and evening to show her and her friends around. She only saw him that night and went on with her trip as planned.
When she got home, she found that he had written her a letter and from that day on they wrote each other every day. He was in Switzerland, she was in Texas but they kept writing and eventually...they married. That was over 13 years ago.
I really love their story, not just because they are both really neat people and deserve the greatest happiness, but because it is a great reminder that no matter what your plans in life, really incredible and unexpected things can happen when you very least expect it.
Haiku for Gilbert (the fellow formerly known as Zhil-bear):
He gave it his all,
Then gave it all up for love
Even the soft "T".
But I never imagined the residual time and geography displacement issues resulting from operating technology in another country. For example, this blog kept thinking that I was still on English time and therefore was posting in the future. (Cue Twilight Zone music.) Also, I was trying to buy a plane ticket on the American Airlines site the other day and it kept telling me the price in British pounds. (It looks so much cheaper but it's not!)
Almost a week later, I think I have managed to convince blogspot that I am back in good ole Central Standard Time but I am apparently going to have to start flying Delta or United.
Using technology haiku:
Oh, technology
Communicating through you
But never with you.
[Editor's note: I'm so vain. I probably think this post is about me, 'bout me, 'bout me.]
So there is a new phenomenon of women going to a salon to get fake eyelashes. The eyelashes aren't fake in the Miss Piggy/glue strip sense, they are added one by one using a special adhesive and they stay for on for weeks. The great thing about them is that you do not have to put on mascara. Ever.
After my stint abroad, my skin is looking its best (I think it was eating all fresh food) and so I could get away with fake eyelashes and moisturizer and not have to put on makeup most days. I find that kind of freedom and glamor totally intoxicating.
However the eyelashes are not cheap and these days I am very cheap so they are out of the question. I thought, "Perhaps I should buy a lottery ticket - all I would need is to win a few hundred dollars..." I'll bet I'd be the only lottery player ever chanting "Momma needs a new pair of eyelashes."
Eyelash haiku:
Oh fake eyelashes
Will they cause me to flirt when
I just mean to blink?
Feel free to weigh in: if you found yourself with an unassigned $500 windfall, how would you indulge?
Technically, a haiku is supposed to be about nature so a good deal of mine would be disqualified by the ardent Japanese poetry fan. Luckily neither of the people who read this blog are known to be ardent fans of Japanese poetry. If I'm wrong about that just let me live in ignorance please. Arigato reader-san.Even so, there are some artful kinds of haiku and I am using another (very short) cadence here that I think captures what wabi haiku is supposed to be. Wabi refers to an older generation of haiku that discuss "austere beauty and loneliness."
The rain this morning reminded me of the constant rain in Oxford. Oxford weather was a nice change to the crazy summer temperatures back home but there were one or two times that the rain really there got me down.
Wabi haiku about rain: It rains
I am here
Alone.
[Ed. note: a shout out to my mom who accidentally took that picture when trying to photograph something through the window.]
Porters are the coolest thing ever, they are like the love children of a concierge at a top New York hotel and one of those under the bridge trolls that prevents you from passing without paying a toll. They regulate the flow at front door of the college to make sure that all visitors pay admission (the colleges are so pretty that people pay to come to tour them) but that no unsavory characters come in.
The porters also have stamps, keys to meeting rooms and squash courts, and information about everything from DHL pickup schedules to buses. I wish my house came with a porter.
Of all the porters at University College, Bob with the tattoo was widely recognized to be the best. He was really adorable and if you told him how wonderful he was he would blush and go all quiet. He was pretty much perfect.
Porter haiku:
Bob with a tattoo
Glad our time was not shorter
You're the best porter.
[Editor's note: This post was supposed to go up before I left Oxford, but it didn't. I suspect it didn't post because I never hit the "post" button, but I couldn't say for sure. I guess we'll never know.]
One hundred things on
my to do list but, just one
afternoon remains.
There are a long list of things I wanted to do while in England that I now won't have time to do before I leave. Somehow having a backlong of items on my suggested to do list makes me feel like I haven't had enough time here, like maybe I should just stay for a few more weeks. Here is a sample of the things I missed out on:
-Take a day trip to Stratford-Upon-Avon and seen a play by the Royal Shakespeare Company
-Eat sausage and mash at The Chequers
-Spend the night in Newcastle
-Go to Wales, just to say I had.
-Meet up with friends in Dublin
-Seen Jude Law play Hamlet in London
-Go punting again
But then I think of all the things I have done since I've been here and I would switch out any of those things for the items on my big paper of haven't-done:
-Had Sunday Roast at The Chequers
-Spend the night in Blackpool, the Atlantic City of England
-Go to Edinburgh and get a taste of Scotland
-Met new friends in pubs all over England
-Seen Sir Ian McKellen and Patrick Steward in Waiting for Godot
-Had one of the most eventful punting experiences ever
All in all, I am one very lucky person. And then again I have that one afternoon left...
My domestic flight home out of O'Hare was kind of a charlie foxtrot if you know what I mean.* And for some reason I am always sitting in the middle of the plane where I can look straight down the wing while flying.
When it is dark and raining, it always reminds me of the last vignette from Twilight Zone: The Movie when John Lithgow (a nervous flier) looks out the airplane window to find some kind of flying zombie eating the engine. Of course, no one believes him, particularly because he is the only one that sees it because it is only visible when the lightning flashes.
The weird snot-covered plane eater is really tormenting Lithgow and causing the technical malfunctions on the flight (see above). After they land everyone else discovers Lithgow was right, but sadly has gone loony tunes by then. I always found that scene totally terrifying, mostly because if there is a jet engine chomping monster, I do NOT want to be the only one to see it. That is a lot of responsibility.
Luckily I promptly fell asleep on my O'Hare flight, so if there was a snot-covered plane eater it was someone else's problem.
Twilight Zone haiku:
Flying when it rains,
Lighting flash - please no monster,
Feeling like Lithgow.
So profound to me,
Journaling by poem.
Web fodder for you.
*Whilst! Ahhahaha...the British and their funny words.
View from High Street in Oxford.
I am going to a high tea this afternoon. Thinking about the high tea and what differentiates it from a regular "cuppa tea," it occurs to me that the English like to formalize things for no apparent reason. One of their favorite ways of characterizing something formal is to add the word "high" to show that thing's superiority to other non-high (low?) versions of the same thing.*
I have written about our High Table dinners which require cocktail attire and a basic knowledge of how to use different forks. Being the oldest college at Oxford we are on the High Street, also known just as "The High."
While there is something to be learned from adding a sense of dignity to events as people often do here at Oxford, I think it's high time that I get back home for some beer and burgers.
High-ku:
Teas, streets, and tables.
Make it English by adding
"High" to everything.
*One notable exception to this policy is the Scottish Highlands - the English clearly find them inferior. Surprised? Didn't think so.
I have a history of grandpa crushes, but I don't think he qualifies as a grandpa because somehow he doesn't seem old enough. A grandpa wouldn't know how to find this posting by Googling. [If you do find this, D Epps, please don't take it out on my exam grade.]
Because of the complicated matter of who this man truly is, I have used an extended haiku format which is the original haiku (5/7/5) followed by a two line stanza with 7 syllables per line. Hope you enjoy.
"Big D Epps" (for short): So much more than contract law:
Rap quotes, grey hair, cites youtube,
Rides a bike for miles
Generational Unknown.
A night of lasts makes
Me feel like we are finished.
But exams still loom.
Zing haiku:
Announcing to all
I have the best wit, but no
Social grace..Zing!
I have many guy friends who I know and later meet their girlfriends and announce to the guy that he has "outpunted his coverage." This phrase is, of course, based on the kind of punting that involves MartÃn Gramática and yardage counts. But, Oh my, there is another kind of punting that is common here in England.
I'm talking about this kind of punting: to propel (a small boat) by thrusting against the bottom of a lake or stream, esp. with a pole. The boat is canoe-like with a squared off front, which seats up to 4 well balanced people.
Punting is a lot of fun, I did it for the first time this past weekend. I think we had perhaps one of the most eventful punting trips ever. Just to name a few of the happenings:
a) We punted party boat style; we pulled up three wide and had a little wine and cheese picnic. (As shown above.)
b) We invented the wine shot. When you are actually punting (we theoretically took turns) you are using both hands, so you put wine in glasses with one gulp, take the gulp whenever possible, then continue punting.
c) We discovered that going upstream is about six to ten times as hard as floating downstream.
d) We also discovered that you should NOT go within two hours of dusk/punting place closing. It gets expensive to keep your punt past the opening times for the rental shop.
e) If your pole gets stuck, let it go. It will pull you in, and as it turns out they float anyway so you're not going to lose it.
f) Sometimes poorly mannered British people will scoff at you for not knowing which college you approaching from the river (there are over 40 college in Oxford, jerk lady).
g) Other poorly mannered British people may throw rocks at you once the sun has set and you can't see them to stop them or later identify them. The only way to make them stop is to curse at them in their own language.
h) Punting is much harder at night when the light is waning. In fact it might be easier to just step off to the shore and pull the punt by the rope while someone else uses to pole to make sure it won't crash into the walled sides of the river, and yet another person takes pictures of this whole event. (And the fourth takes a few hard earned wine shots.)
However, the important takeaway here is that all of these things together could have been a real disaster, but we had a blast for one reason: everyone had a great attitude. You could say that we literally outpunted our coverage, but I made some new friends and forged some stronger bonds. And I would definitely go again.
Around noon, upstream first, with a map.
Punting Haiku:
Punting means much more
than kicking a pig skin now.
Wine and friends and laughs.
It took me a while to notice this, but the sinks here have two spouts, one for hot water and one for cold. This seems to be logical except that when you are washing your hands, you really have to pick a horse and ride it as far as water temperature goes.
Now the weather is not usually hot here, it's warm at best and you don't really want to be dunking your hands in cold water for 20-30 seconds. You sure as heck can't hold that up with the hot water. And according to the British health authorities, you can't really skimp on the time either because anything less will ensure a case of the swine flu.
So I have developed a system to turn on both spouts and rotate hands which, if I'm honest, it's not fool proof. It usually ends up in burning my left hand a little. So I guess I can add "comfortable handwashing" to the list of things I am looking forward to when I get back. And "no longer talking about the swine flu."
Haiku about English sinks:
Left hand burnt and the
Right hand growing icicles.
What happened to warm?
[Ed. note: I have retroactively posted this because it was already written, but our internet was out yesterday. Not that I need to explain to you, mostly because you don't care.]
I recently finished reading The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo and one of the main characters is a major internet hacker. As a superhero internet stalker, it made me think about things.
I was going to keep any posted details about myself and family, etc. on this blog incredibly vague for personal security reasons. However, there is little point to that policy. First of all the only people who read this blog are members of my family.* Second, all information about everything and everyone is available on the internet anyway.
Trust me I know this, in law school they give you free reign on all of the good internet search engines. Westlaw and Lexis have personal information searches which are mostly public records but just easier to find on these databases. So law students immediately look up if that guy you met in the bar has ever been married or how much equity your friend who always lectures you on finance has in her house.
But truthfully, even though I have acquired the super-human skill of internet stalking, it can be a little bit scary to think of it being used against me. Like all the good superheros, I try to use my abilities for good and never evil - but I cannot assume the same about everyone else.
Don't worry I'm not going to post anything personal anyway, even if I am just delaying the inevitable. And I am still going to read the next book in the Dragon Tattoo trilogy, but since Amazon keeps track of what I read you probably already knew that.
Internet stalking haiku: Internet stalking.
Terrible! That is, unless
I need your address.
*Minus my dad, his entire review verbatim was this: "Just looked at your blog. Interesting. Dad"
One thing that is annoying about being over here is that many internet videos are not licensed to be shown in the UK. I have yet to see an exchange of money for internet video but I guess it is a booming business. One of my favorite sites for streaming video, Hulu.com, constantly is prohibiting streaming video over here and once you've grown accustomed to having the service it is very annoying to have it revoked. Someone said there is a legal way to get around it but I would rather be annoyed and complain, so I guess I am retaining my American-ness well.
One of the most surprising offenders with the licensing rules is YouTube. I have clicked on a few "channels" on youtube to get music in my room while I'm getting ready and the videos are restricted by licensing rules.
YouTube is supposed to be about what YOU want to watch on your newfangled computer-TUBE. It is supposed to be anti-establishment. It is supposed to be underground, a video Napster but it's a sell out to the man. It feels like going into your favorite hole-in-the-wall, mom and pop cafe and finding out they sell Starbucks coffee. Lame!
Hulu haiku (say that five times fast):
Hulu. I love u.
Except your licensing rules:
Hu-ludicrous laws.*
[Editor's note: this is a long posting, but that can be explained by this: it is a rant, and I wasn't finished being annoyed until the fourth or fifth paragraph.]
Ok, I generally have no problem with bees. I have a long-tested policy of just chilling when they come along and letting them do their thing and then fly away. This policy is very logically based on two things a) the kid from Jerry Maguire who says that bees can smell fear, and b) the general knowledge that bees are the busiest animals on the planet so they don't waste time stinging people for no reason.
And my policy totally worked! There is a legal theory called a social contract and I like to think bees and I have a social contract: a kind of truce that forbids squashing or stinging and promotes general goodwill among the two species. Apparently that social contract is void in England.
First of all the bees here are much more aggressive. I was taking my picnic lunch to Christ Church meadows and a bee landed on me and would NOT go away. He was all over my shoulder and then he had the audacity to try and crawl up my shirt! It was like being at a frat party.
Second, I don't like to judge but since the gloves have come off, there are a lot more bees here than there are in the States. Not more flowers, mind you, just more bees. Any economist or businessman knows that same size job + more workers = more down time. This English bee work ethic negates reason B for my truce: too busy to sting.
These guys have all the leisure (here pronounced Leh-zhure) time in the world, as evidenced by the one who just spent 5 minutes making out with the juice bottle on my desk. He must like carrot and orange juice, because then he called in two friends. Really, I have to draw the line.
So I have this to say to the bees (in a three part haiku):
Truce is off unless
Trespass will be seen
I don't pick your plants
you mind your manners and don't
Come through my window.
as an act of war, and I
will respond in kind.
So stay off of my sweet stuff.
Let's restore the peace.
[Editor's note #2: I know that the bee population is dropping and there are ecological concerns about that, or that some may think it's unethical to wage a war against bees, but save your letters, PETA, I don't care.]
[Editor's note #3: Oh my Gosh how cool would it be if anyone from PETA ever read my blog?!? Not that PETA is so great but that would mean it was someone I didn't know so that would be pretty huge.]
A haiku for you, the number 69:
Can't live in peace as
Seventy's neighbor, always
the butt of crude jokes.
*Unique hits excludes multiple page views from the same IP address in the same hour, but still about 55 of those were me obsessively checking to see if I had any more hits.
There is a special drink that people here like to have. It's called a Pimm's, which is a kind of alcohol, but when you order a "Pimm's" from the bartender it is usually mixed with lemonade. Or lots of fruity things, as demonstrated in my favorite Pimm's commercial (link below).
Pimm's is fairly popular in England, but it is THE drink of Oxford according to most people around Oxford. However, I just have one problem. I absolutely detest it. Somehow it has a bad taste and a worse aftertaste. I said it tastes like curry, but my Indian friend thought I was making a dig at her. I wasn't, but I would like to point out that she loves Pimm's. Draw your own conclusions.
However, Pimm's does have a great commercial. Please check it out: PIMMS COMMERCIAL
Pimm's haiku:
Pimm's, I respect your
history, but not your taste.
Quinine and curry.
First watch the commercial via the conveniently provided link above. Then I'd love to hear your answer to this question: If you had to be one of the "ingredients" in a Pimm's, which one would you be? I say that Mint is obviously a huge badass - parachuting in from the sky - but I am still going with Ice. Who doesn't like a older black man in a nice suit? Also I'm pretty sure cucumber is kind of a d-bag.
Talk amongst yourselves...click on the word comment below and share your thoughts. If you don't participate I will force you to chug a Pimm's. Cheers!
I just think this is cute in a sad but still very cute way.
Casted and covered
in pink. Cannot move at all
Mice get a reprieve.
I dedicate today's haiku to her:
Giving birth. It's not
Like getting your car oil changed.
Miss a class or two.
*Not to make social judgments, but it seems very inappropriate to be having kids in third grade anyway.
This first haiku goes out to Robin in Dublin, the other haiku is for someone who will remain nameless but hopefully not shameless.*
Cockburn Street haiku:
"Cockburn Street?" I asked.
"It's said Co-burn," he replied.
"Oh," I think, "Good talk."
Co(ck)burn street in Edinburgh is a lovely street despite its wince-inducing name. I recommend a pub called The Advocate if you find yourself close by and thirsty.
This next haiku is named after an acronym that refers the somewhat-necessary talk two people have when their relationship evolves. The aim is to Define The Relationship or at least establish that everyone is on the same page. I frequently use it as a verb (e.g. "They haven't DTRed yet.") but then again I'm not very mature.
DTR Haiku:
I bring it up but
Call waiting beeps. You go and
...don't return. Good Talk.
*And certainly not blameless.
Haiku note: haiku don't have to break at the 5/7/5 syllables. However, I am still editorially breaking it that way so it doesn't look like a bolded sentence.
Weird dream note: I wrote about Michael York who played Basil Exposition in a previous post and he was in my dream last night. Totally random!
Subliminal suggestion haiku:
Michael York in my
blog post, then in my dreams. Now
I write this: Brad Pitt.
On Tuesdays we have a fancy dinner called the high table. We have a speaker and we dress formally and eat very fancy food in a very fancy dining room. Last night before the high table the water turned off in our dorm while several of us were taking showers. And I mean actually WHILE we were in the shower. I had to rinse the soap off my legs using a bottle of water from the fridge which was so cold I can't even think about it right now without getting chills.
This is all thanks to the roadwork on High Street which is like a weekday alarm circa 7 am. Can't say I'll be sorry to see them go.
Severed water haiku:
Cleansing water comes,
Teases us, then goes without
taking the shampoo.
I know Oxford should be cold and wet but this was taking it too far. Brrrrr...
I am learning a deeper respect for the simplicity of haiku in this lovely month of Hai-ugust. No to Hai-ugust you still say? Ok then.
I chose haiku for the first month because I thought it was easy (particularly with my proposed expanded haiku) but so far I have been diligent about limiting myself to the simple (= correct) syllable limitations. I am learning that some thought and planning can create room for more information without losing fluidity or cogency. Accomplishing all of that is more difficult than I expected, but rewarding.
Sometimes less is said
In the words than in the space
left between: Haiku.
So since no one has commented on any of these entries and someone suggested this (you know who you are) please feel free to add your own haiku as a comment to this post. If you need a refresher on the rules, click on the word HAIKU.
After that semi-chastising comment, I would like to give a shout out to the first three official followers of my blog. It may just be the four of us so Arigato Gozaimasu which I understand roughly translates from the Japanese to “many thanks to you for an ongoing action.” I have Zen coming out of my ears today.
Namaste.
*It says come OHM with me, not come HOME with me! Ohm as in meditate. (Perv.)
I love riding on trains and how you can be lulled into a kind of mental coma by the motion. But it always seemed so incongruous to me how you are just moseying along and suddenly another train passes in the opposite direction with such force. It almost seems pissed off. Like when you are in no hurry to get somewhere on a Sunday and some rude guy pushes past you doing that very fast walk that requires looking directly over everyone's head. It always makes me think Hey buddy, where's the fire? But then again my train seems just as harsh to the opposite riders so I guess it's all relative? How profound. Talk amongst yourselves.
Heather on the track.
A train passes with violence...
Back to swaying naps.
Note: This was pared down from an original 7/9/7 Alisa haiku-stepchild and I honestly think it's better now. I think the true essence of the haiku is in simplicity. (For more on this please see my next posting.)
The monster reference here is not to the Jabberwocky, the namesake creature of this blog. Instead I am referring to my dog who is lovingly known to some as The Monster. She is actually not monstrous at all (except maybe her breath which could potentially wilt plastic flowers.)
Haiku about Scotland:
Tartan kilt, whiskey.
Can't feel the wind on bare knees.
Match made in heaven.
In case you are wondering, there WERE men on the streets in Edinburgh wearing kilts but it was not quite as hot-men-in-kilts as I thought it was going to be. And honestly I have not worn a skirt here in 2 months and I'm a girl - it's cool at best. I am just trying to give you weather perspective here.
But I also noticed emerging from pubs how unimportant the weather became, if you get my drift [makes drinking motion with hand].
Here is a haiku for now, I may post another later, or I may put it off:
Procrastinating!
I wait until the last line
to admit: I am.
Cheers!
Here is a list of famous alumni that includes him:
Wikipedia's University College Alumni list
It also includes a British Prime Minister, a president of Botswana, Michael York, who played Basil Exposition in the Austin Powers movies among other roles and...what BILL CLINTON isn't good enough for you?
Here is the haiku for today:
Oxford's cobbled streets.
Colleges at every turn.
Univ is the best.
Cheers!
Here is the haiku for Saturday:
Reading English law,
Known words empty of meaning.
Honour extra u's.
Cheers!
I am going to choose a poem type monthly, and try to write a poem a day of that type. I am going to write about something that happened that day or something I thought of that day or something that I tell you happened that day. I may have to explain some of them.
As for haiku rules, here is a link to a description of a haiku in case you don't know what it is.
http://www.seohaiku.com/blog/what-is-a-haiku/
For the syllable count, I am using either the 5/7/5 setup, or my own creation of 7/9/7. I know I am using artistic privilege on the 7/9/7 cadence, but this is my blog so deal. A finely crafted haiku will paint an image in your head (but keep in mind I am no fine craftsman.)
A note on the patron poem of the blog, I do love The Walrus and the Carpenter (a poem that Tweedledee and Tweedledum recite to Alice) but it seemed particularly apropos since I am starting the blog now while I am in Oxford where Lewis Carroll was a professor.
The Lewis Carroll theme pervades even in the name of my blog which is a reference to The Jabberwocky, a monster Carroll created in a poem heavy on the nonsense words. Still, it is quite scary.
A short story (later adapted to the screen in a movie with Rainn Wilson not playing Dwight Schrute) called Mimsy were the Borogroves was also based on this poem. The poems, the short story by Lewis Padgett, and (less so) the movie are very interesting to me. That is how I roll.
So....thanks for reading! Cheers!
