.
Alexander Pope (1688 - 1744)
Couplet
Is there no bright reversion in the sky
For those who prefer cake, but accept pie?
William Wordsworth (1770 - 1850)
Thoughts in Repression
It is as if, as toward the silent tomb we go,
We feel that we are greater than we know we know.
The Porcupine
Ah, what avails the sceptred race,
Ah, what the form divine,
What every virtue, every grace,
Compared to the porcupine?
A Scotsman being hit by a pie: Adam Cuerden, 2006
Cakes, Serbia: photos by Ctpyjajoe, 2009
Brazilian porcupine (Coendou prehensilis): photo by Dave Pape, 2007
Alexander Pope (1688 - 1744)
Couplet
Is there no bright reversion in the sky
For those who prefer cake, but accept pie?
William Wordsworth (1770 - 1850)
Thoughts in Repression
It is as if, as toward the silent tomb we go,
We feel that we are greater than we know we know.
Walter Savage Landor (1775 - 1864)
The Porcupine
Ah, what avails the sceptred race,
Ah, what the form divine,
What every virtue, every grace,
Compared to the porcupine?
A Scotsman being hit by a pie: Adam Cuerden, 2006
Cakes, Serbia: photos by Ctpyjajoe, 2009
Brazilian porcupine (Coendou prehensilis): photo by Dave Pape, 2007
mutatis mutandis...
ReplyDeleteHave a good Christmas and a New Year out of the rain.
love, Tom and Val
Ah, mutability! -- today is the Solstice, and the lyric lives! Thanks for finding these, two more couplets here - - - -
ReplyDelete12.21
grey whiteness of cloud against invisible
ridge, red-tailed hawk calling on branch
in foreground, sound of wave in channel
apparent system, multiplied
by negative of that
point, is possible, example
in which “light” is
sunlit cloud in pale blue sky on horizon,
tree-lined green of ridge across channel
Incroyable, all of them.
ReplyDeleteHave a happy festive season !!
mutatis mutandis...
ReplyDeleteHave a good Christmas and a New Year out of the rain.
love, Tom and Val
I echo that
ReplyDeleteEnjoyed these!
ReplyDeleteHave a lovely Christmas Tom.
Hi Tom,
ReplyDeleteI'm with Preston Sturges = gives us Christmas, but also give us Christmas in July!
Merry Merry to each Sweetheart
Thank you all for the lovely remarks.
ReplyDeleteAnd I repeat that.
By the way, out of respect to those surely innocent (?) parties, the English poets, perhaps it should be noted that, as the title suggests, these are mutant versions of the Lyrick (that is, the originals have been tampered with, just a a bit).
Are you familiar with the poetic form; the "Pieku"?
ReplyDeleteeg:
Fish may be serene
like they have all the answers.
But they can't eat pie.
or,
Rain falls steadily.
Where did the cicadas go?
Cherry pie beckons.
or,
Autumn leaves are sad.
Pie enters tummy.
Yummy!
or,
Search deeply The Endless
Do you have room in your life
for pie?
This form was invented by John Bridges, artist and former manager of my former bakery's former cafe. Many of these piekus are in my possesion, some were written by John, some by myself, some by other staffers of the now defunct Blue Wolff Desserts.
Eat!Fress!Mange!
There once was a man from Nantucket...wait, that's not a "lyrick"
ReplyDeleteThere once was a man from Nantucket
ReplyDeletewho kept all his pie in a bucket
until...
(pie fight)
ReplyDeleteSo, Tom,
which one do you think is the poet here —
the lion-hunter, or Curly?
Something tells me either one.
nyuk nyuk nyuk
ReplyDeleteoh
comedian!
Great post, really creative I think. If you want me to talk about how language changes I could talk non stop about it, but I guess this goes beyond science, this is art indeed.
ReplyDeleteBye TC
And some things are impossible to explain... pie-dodging... poetry... and what and how the Three Stooges were like....
ReplyDeleteI think that I shall never see
ReplyDeleteA poem lovely as Sweetpea.
Seasonal whatsits to one and all.
ReplyDeletehttp://www.guardian.co.uk/books/booksblog/2009/dec/17/poster-poems-christmas-poetry
Yes - Merry Christmas to you Tom and all your visitors here.
ReplyDeleteI've loved coming to visit here and to see what wonderful pictures you've written such thought-provoking words to accompany.
You've helped me in my writing as well, to see the importance of trying to make my words match my personality. I think this is the way forwards in learning the craft, or at least in making sure that I write what I truly feel.
Anyway, I waffle, seasons greetings and all that...
:-)
Couplet
ReplyDeleteThere is no appetite for, barely hope
In those preferring Blake, are served up Pope!
A Scotsman
What happens when the porcupine plays the piano cake?
ReplyDeleteThere must be a couplet there somewhere, eh?
Ay Caramba! a brace of bards, a charming waffler, a swimming pianist, and yet another Japanese sex spammer (sigh! now deleted), in a pear tree...
ReplyDeleteThis feels like about the sixth day of Christmas already and it's only... what is it? Time once again to dust off the cheerful little nihilist ditties... The Nocturnall Upon St Lucy's Day (Being the Shortest Day)?
So Carol, speaking of a song in our hearts, thanks for coming. In this festive season your very name is thematic. When the porcupine plays the piano cake it licks its quills afterward, duh. Neat piano cake eh? Imagine the sweet possibilities for quill licking after a delicious arpeggio.
What! Would you slap the Porcupine?
Unhappy child — desist!
Alas! That any friend of mine
Should turn Tupto-philist.
(Hilaire Belloc)
Not quite couplets I guess... but to make up for it here's a naked guy in the snows of the Alaskan tundra with red streaks in his hair and only his porcupine to keep him warm
__
There is no hope, barely appetite
To slake, within a Scot, for Pope
Who would in any case a mite
Of Blake prefer, oh never mind...
__
Pinkerbell, my dear, let me simply offer you good cheer
And say it's been a pleasure waffling forward with you this year.
__
And then went down to water's edge, Billy Mills and me,
Set keel to breakers, forth on the Little Swee'Pea
And bore Sweetpeas aboard her...
Fun to see how you tweaked these (or cracked them open like Christmas walnuts)! Mutabilitie indeed. Thanks, Tom, for so many pleasures this year.
ReplyDeleteHi Rachel,
ReplyDeleteThanks for coming by, raises the tone of the joint.
Plenty of nuts around here for sure.
Take care, mi casa su casa
Yest Tom, I was remembering both SPs.
ReplyDeletemerry christmas.....a wonderful
ReplyDeletegroup of people on this blog
now back to basics
Hearts-Ease
There is a flower I wish to wear
But not until first worne by you...
Heart's ease...of all of Earth's
flowers most rare;
Bring it;and bring enough for two.
Walter Savage Landor
Billy, Elmo,
ReplyDeleteWith such steady/heady company, even when mucking about in the blind drifts one was never going to stray very far off course from base camp...
And digging back out from under the forever mutable tundra, warmest season's greetings to world poet Tom and genius of all loci Val, amiable faces twinkling in from up top of the smokehole -- an especially happy Christmas to the two of you...
And not forgetting Anne V generous if perhaps inadvertent begetter of the most intriguing of poet pseudonymous monikers...
And Stephen, abiding monitor of the lights of the ridge and channel...
And Aditya, timekeeper of the nano-turnings of melancholy/cosmic himalayan clocks...
And painter poet Leigh, adroit medium of the several congruent media...
And Mariana, who teaches science to have a soul...
And Bob big-armed woodstacker bard of the snows...
And Zev, pieku laureate...
And Otto, who KNOWS.
... Oh, and CM, CJ, Pinkerbell and Rachel,
ReplyDeleteIf you thought you'd duck
To avoid being caught under my mistletoe, sorry
-- Smooch! -- you're quite out of luck.