Cratylus’s Good Word

Cratylus’s Good Word

Different lands and languages have introduced me to many aspects of water. In Hindi, water is called pani, but children call her pani-wani: playful and prancing. Germans enjoy slippery, sibilantly, seductive Wasser while for the Finnish, vesi is very vigorous and selectively sexy. Japanese mizu is melodiously mixed with miso. But I don’t think Klingons even drink their blQ. But who would?

Resonant ripples.
Perfectly plopped pond pebbles.
Socrates drops dead!
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Prompt:  Björn, @d’Verse poets, challenges us to write a Haibun about water. A little may be lost in this Haibun (except perhaps the humor) if you are not aware of the sound symbolism controversy from the days of Socrates.  So if you are curious, see the links below. I imagine you poets would side with Cratylus in the Socrates dialogue. Do you?

• Sound and meaning in the world’s languages (Nature Magazine — also, about Socrates and Cratylus — and what exactly is a “good word”)
• Sound Symbolism

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Pani Wani

Pani Wani

In Hindi, Water is called Pani,
but children call her Pani-Wani:
playful and prancing.

Germans enjoy sssslippery,
and sibilantly seductive Wasser.

Finnish vesi is very vigorous
and selectively sexy.

Japanese mizu can bring misery
or ships of sushi.

While I don’t even think
that Klingons drink blQ,
but who would?

— by Sabio Lantz, October 2017

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Prompt: Dverse poets asks us to write a poem about “water”.

Embarrassing Hopes

Embarrassing Hopes

We hope the fate filled pie is small
and that with each bitter piece taken
it shrinks smaller and improbable —

that there is only so much
sadness, suffering and sickness to go around
and with each choking bite taken
there is less for us.

— by Sabio Lantz, October 2017

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Prompt: De Jackson serving us a prompt at dVerse in Las Vegas, asks us to write a Quadrille about “hope”.

Chastised Once Again

Chastised Once Again

How kind your friend to let us stay.
How nice the bed he spared.
Without a whine his son did go
to the mattress far downstairs.

But of all the nights we’ve had to play,
of all our romps about:
Please not in Jack’s bed, my dear.
The poor lad might find out!

by Sabio Lantz, October 2017

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Prompt: Open Link night at the D’Verse Poets Pub and with too much rye whiskey served, occasionally a hack poet grabs the mike and shares something raw and funny (well, funny to some folks).  Fortunately, the bouncer pulled him off the stage before his verses continued.  But as he was leaving he shamelessly yelled, “That was based a real event — hell, several!”

Making Frost Memories

Making Frost Memories

I had a suburban childhood on a carefully fenced-in quarter-acre property of perfect sod grass. We harvested our vegetables from the grocery store, of course, just like all our neighbors. Yet this poetry prompt asks us to remember something about winter frost, which a farmer or even a suburban gardener would know. And heck, I don’t even think we had flowers, so “frost” meant nothing to my childhood. But don’t get me wrong — though I may have a paucity of poetic plant experiences, I have many other fun childhood memories: I raised raccoons and snakes, shot of rockets and fireworks, made pottery and smoke bombs, and built tree forts and box cars.

Do I wish I had memories of frost? Not really, but like writing poetry, I always thought that gardening would make me a better person. So, finally, this summer, my lover and I have done some gardening. And after several delightful small harvests, we look forward to winter’s frost to kill our remaining okra and then let them dry so that we can make a Christmas gifts of their seeds for our friends. Now all I have to do is start writing good poetry.

The thin, cold, white shroud
dries and cracks our once green plants
Snapping open hope!

by Sabio Lantz, October 2017

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Prompt: Victoria, at d’Verse Poets, asks us to use a Haibun to write about our memories of Winter frost.

When Here and There are the Same

When Here and There are the Same

Equinoxy days
happen twice a year
with equal days to play
and equal nights to fear.

From Pennsylvania to Paraguay,
from Mongolia to Zimbabwe,
the equatorial equality
leaves equal parts of the sun to see.

With solar and lunar parity,
with ying and yang at peace,
none of us should yearn for
a better place to feast.

So celebrate the equinox
when no one can yell “unfair!”
Unfortunately ’tis only twice a year
that we can’t wish to be elsewhere.

— Sabio Lantz, September 21, 2017 (Autumn Equinox!)

My Poetry Style – Why?

My Poetry Style – Why?

Perhaps some have selves more harmonious and more homogenous than mine, but these poems are spilt echoes from my inner friends Theo-, Philo- and Psycho-, whimsically detached from their syllabic bondage to “logical”. Playful, sensual, and indulgently fantastical, ’tis hard to find one mind, one style, among their community. Yet they certainly share a testy nature as they linguistically tease the flowery romantics, stir the sanctimonious and infuriate the idealistic. Worse, those who hold their words, styles or ideas as sacred, are their jungle gym. Yet, they are gratefully forgiven occasionally when out splashes another verse filled with foolery.

Flirtatious flowers,
indulgent chirps competing:
A driver looks back!

— Sabio Lantz, September 2017

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Prompt:

Toni (HayesSpencer) @ dVerse Poets Pub challenged us to write a Haibun telling why we use the style of poetry that we do but she added many constraints on our Haibuns. For the “bun” part of the Haibun, Toni wants us to tell the WHY behind our own style of poetry, yet she wants us to make the ending “Hai” a classic Haiku.

Pic Above:

Toni also gave us the option of posting a snapshot of ourselves. So here is a pic  my son took of me this morning (you can see his reflection in the pic). I am showing you my new Poetry Box which I will hang on the new Poetry Pole that my son and I just planted in our front yard this last weekend. Today I will paint the pole and more.

Background:

I actually went back and looked at my last 20 poems to see if I indeed have “a style” of poetry but instead found a large variety of styles with perhaps a tinge of frequent flavoring — thus this Haibun.  To help any interested reader, this link to my Many Selves post on my Triangulations blog, explains my view of self and thus some of my allusions.  Interestingly, my last unprompted poem (Friends and Foes Long Ago) also addresses my “Many Selves” viewpoint.