Ars Poética (Life’s Ingénue)
I always wanted to die like a hero, but I was never helpful enough.
So I switched to being a genius,
but my time ticked away with the infinite scroll.
I developed a talent for acting and so you casted me
as your life’s ingénue.
Now I’ll be remembered for my endless stream of verses about feeling unmoored.
To live like a poet means to hide the insurmountable
behind shades of gray,
so behind every anaphora, assonance, and ballad
there’s a little bit of you, the pièce de résistance.
And did you know poets weren’t merely entertainers
in the olden days?
If I were a man in Anglo-Saxon times,
I wouldn’t be your royal buffoon.
Instead of being a court jester, I would be tied to the oracle.
So while i dream of dying like a martyr,
my biggest concern shouldn’t be to amuse.
Unlikely to think that you’d suffer upon my departure, my lover,
my owner, my muse.
And when I run out of illusory verses and come to my senses,
lover, you’re on your own…
If Harold had spied with his little eye
the arrow flying his way
at the Battle of Hastings in 1066
the English may have won the day
but the French bastard William the Norman
prevailed and won the upper hand
to conquer the last Anglo-Saxon king
of this green and pleasant land
when King Henry V led his army of archers from Wales
at the Battle of Agincourt in 1415
in revenge the English to the French did bid 'Adieu'
which began the tales
longbowmen were first to finger the V-sign 'pluck yew'
but it's merely a myth it's not true
In my writes replies and poeming I often use a certain word
Therein..This word in truth 'is imput see.' Not sanctioned in
The current dictionary.? And yet the English langauge grand has
Been the work of tounge and hands, one of which is Saxon
West..Or Germanic..? If I pass the test? And 'im' within
Germanic tounge 'is the same as in.' Thats where I'm coming from , so from a plaited and interwoven vocabulary
Not formerly chosen.. Nor of standard till Alfreds day would be' he
An Saxon Anglo btw..I find two words are the same to use
In-put or Im-put to my peruse.'
Free verse has
more going for it than this:
no rhyme pattern at all,
no use of meter.
One upside though...
over quick!
----------
A Seox (Anglo Saxon for 'six'), consisting of 6 unrhymed lines 3/7/6/5/4/3
Open letter
USA, Britain, Australia and France
You people of the Anglo-Saxon world
Damn you for letting this war go on
Your hatred of all things Russians
Knows no limit goes back to the time
of the Tsars
Sacrificing Ukraine for the ideology
That you are the rulers.
No, Russia, the far east and Africa
Will not bend to your dictate and
Damn the political tyranny in Europe
And damn Putin for walking into your
Trap, shouldering the blame for your
Sinister plans.
But you will not win the world, is getting
Wise to your power grab.
Anglo-Saxon rulers were interned in the Orford castle.
Its polygonal edges secure the town's harbor from dazzle.
Many tallies of feral men caught in fisher webs hassle.
In 1826, Joseph Turner intended a hardcover poetry book.
On his trip to England's East Coast, he was led to the fort look.
Turner drew it with a pencil tracing.
He used a deep stain on a blue rag to add raging.
Orford's fort was veiled by red twilight in a verse hard coating.
Written: February 04, 2022
http://collection.imamuseum.org/artwork/49383/
A Strand (1069) Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
Through a Glass, Darkly
This first translation of an unwritten poem
By Jorge Luis Borges stands against
Invisible Spanish on the left-hand page
Sadly imperfect Anglo-Saxon reflex
Of pure anticipation fine suspension
Clear aperture though when this blurred mimesis
Of vision is erased the parable
Of vision will emerge like messages
We coded into lemon-juice as children
And held to candles where brown letters forming
Were artless alchemy but then these lines
That honour him who read in dark the volumes
Of an infinite library who will be writing
When his loved hourglass turns again to sand.
John Lingard
Sydney
Nova Scotia
2020
Now this month was called Solmonath
the anglo Saxons gave it this name
to mean the month of cakes no less
offered them to their gods being their aim
This is no favourite time of year
at least not in the North Hemisphere
filled with cold wet winds and snow
many aspects of winter appear
Waking up one February morn
can be cold seeking frost outside
heavy clothes needed to go out
wrapped securely so warmth may abide
The sun can be a rare thing
catch a glimpse while its there
for it hides itself behind a tree
even if you watch and stare
At least in midst of this time
bringing sun's rays to lift one's gloom
one's mind plays tricks upon itself
look forward to spring to come soon
(Solmonath is the English Anglo Saxon word for February, they gave it the month of cakes as they were offered to their gods, this was their aim.)
My crest placed upon my helmet with the surname of May upon it
Anglo-Saxon decent, I wish to capture my Lady’s eye Sitting tall on
My steed prepared for war.
My lady locked in the Kings Tower watching her tears flowing down,
A silent call for help through her tortured eyes, bond to the
Kings bed with his chains of tormented unable to be released.
I have climbed up her tower to release her by slicing these chains with
My sword, wiping her tears with a fine white cloth, reaching into her
Heart with comfort, easing her pain.
I have placed my coat of arms upon her head for we have wed,
The old King is gone for his tower tumbled down giving her freedom
To wed.
This story passed down from the old, for I have now been replaced
By another, my helmet tarnished and my coat of arms replaced now
I sit in the tower bond by invisible chains.
Wulf and Eadwacer
ancient Anglo-Saxon poem
loose translation by Michael R. Burch
My clan's curs pursue him like crippled game;
they'll rip him apart if he approaches their pack.
It is otherwise with us.
Wulf's on one island; we're on another.
His island's a fortress, fastened by fens. (fastened=secured)
Here, bloodthirsty curs howl for carnage.
They'll rip him apart if he approaches their pack.
It is otherwise with us.
My heart pursued Wulf like a panting hound,
but whenever it rained—how I wept!—
the boldest cur grasped me in his paws:
good feelings for him, but for me loathsome!
Wulf, O, my Wulf, my ache for you
has made me sick; your seldom-comings
have left me famished, deprived of real meat.
Have you heard, Eadwacer? Watchdog!
A wolf has borne our wretched whelp to the woods!
One can easily sever what never was one:
our song together.
To find out how we did arrive
At where we are today,
Review the past, keep it alive,
The truth will come your way.
The immigration laws of old
Were race based bigotry.
Caucasian countries fit our mold
Of white suprmacy.
But countries filled with darker skin
Had no priority,
We would not let too many in
Our white majority.
They did not want the darker hordes
To immigrate this way,
And threaten Anglo-Saxon cords
Most thought were here to stay.
A few good leaders read the law,
In nineteen sixty-three,
And found no bueracratic flaw,
Just racist history.
So better angels took control
To end discrepency;
Each country got an equal toll:
Propotionality.
Today the darker angels rule
To bring back bigotry.
The laws are now insanely cruel,
In their iniquity.
A child will cry in need tonight,
In some detention cell.
Its mother wonders why this plight?
Dark Angels straight from hell.
"The Letter"
"L" is for LOVE and the JOY that follows
"L" is for Learning flies high like a Swallow
"L" is for LIFE Lionheart all the rises and hollows
"G" is for DAUGHTER, hearts 2 as 1, flying free on the 'morrow
"L" is for Loquaciousness bees buzzing mouthfuls of honey
"L" is for Listen there is more to Life than mere money
"L" is for Linnet bird singing on the highest branch next to God
"O" is for ONE, "I Am", forever in your blood
"G" is for GLORY there is TRUTH to be seen
"O" is for FREEDOM Little Bird, 2 Royal Queens free, follow their dreams
(Lovejoy-Burton/Feb 2018)
gvlm
klb, mlb
Aerial/ Kate Bush
https://youtu.be/8UBzZKzu8Wg
Meaning of the name Lynette:
Linnet : A mainly brown and gray finch with a reddish breast and forehead.
In Anglo-Saxon the meaning of the name Lynette is: Bird.
In Celtic the meaning of the name Lynette is: Grace.
In Arthurian Legend the meaning of the name Lynette is:
Sister of Lyonors. In Arthurian legend Lynette accompanied Sir Gareth on a knightly quest.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lynette_and_Lyonesse
There was a color blind man from Stockton
Who had great trouble putting his socks on
Which ones match
Head he'd scratch
Red and green confused this Anglo Saxon.
Nobody moves...nobody talks,
And who dares...gets sharp folks,
Stuff his mouth...stuff her rear,
Terror reigns and tearing fear,
Disfigured being a pierced face,
To whomsoever present my case?
They are all backing his daily deed,
This new species...inhuman breed,
Countless kids they're all slain
Like Abel by Brother Cain,
Ali does not need his bath,
Because he had it already red,
Nor Omar needs to eat,
He had the entire menu and a treat,
Can't you see his swollen tummy,
Wrapped like an Egyptian mummy?
Torture is still on,
Celebrating one million and a half at down,
With a French bleach,
And an Italian stitch,
With a Spanish applause,
And an Anglo-Saxon pose.
Captured like game.
Branded like cattle.
Herded like sheep
Treated Like cargo, and defects where thrown in the deep.
Certified merchandise
"***** show me your teeth"
Murder guys who don't hold their own; no hope for the weak
"You better dig deep,
Cause I don't care about your suffer and strife"
If you were advanced then your people would have fought for your life
Instead of human trafficking there own, for goods from the whites
Besides your black.
You can never have rights"
As a result most blacks are poor, and still seen as less.
A people unsure of themselves,
A race in distress
It cuts deep,
Like whips on the back of the slaves
Whose grandchildren still fade in the land of the brave.
But I am a diaspora man
An African with habits of an Anglo Saxon clan
Racial discrimination still spans this land
But still I rise, brother give me your hand
Mike Concise 2009 ©
www.mikeconcise.com
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