The Hairbag Poet-Siberian Snow Cat

Hi and welcome to my Friday series The Hairbag Poet.

In the blogging world Fridays are known as Poetry Friday.  You can read about Poetry Friday here. I will plan on posting The Hairbag Poet each Friday.

You can read about the history of this series here.

Russia, Russia, Russia, it’s all we hear about in the news lately, so I thought I would devote this weeks Hairbag Poem to Acmeism. According to the poetry foundation (2018) Acmeism is “An early 20th-century Russian school of poetry that rejected the vagueness and emotionality of Symbolism in favor of Imagist clarity and texture. Two famous poets of Acmeism are Osip Mandelstam and Anna Akhmatova. Both these poets lived through the tumultuous Russian Revolution, and the communist leadership of both Lenin and Stalin.

Mandelstam was a poet in a time when artistry, and individual thought did not fit into communist government ideology. During his life, Mandelstam was exiled, arrested and tortured, released, rearrested, and died in the Soviet work camp/prison system. He paid the ultimate price for freedom of speech.

After being a celebrated writer and poet for most of her life, in 1925, under the new Bolshevik government, Anna Akhmatova’s work was banned. The government was in control of all literary publication and funding. Her son was placed in a work camp, his only crime being the son of his father Nikolai Stepanovich Gumilev a poet and counterrevolutionary. Gumilev was executed in 1921 without a trial.

As writers we take our freedoms and liberty seriously. If we have to think twice about what we are writing or saying, are we really free?

I hope you enjoy these posts. Thanks for stopping by and reading, and please feel free to post your own poetry in the comments if you feel inspired by the photographs. I always love reading other peoples perspective on “art”.

The Hairbag Poet

Photo by Donald titled “Snow Cat”

Siberian Snow Cat

Kis, Kis, Kis they call to me…

Bitter cold warms my spirit.
A thousand winters pass.

Kis, Kis,Kis they call to me…

Conifers bow as one
In taigas’ boreal winds.

Kis Kis, Kis they call to me…

Mountain peaks cry frosty streams.
Icy crocheted doilies wet my tongue.

Kis, Kis, Kis they call to me…

Snowy forest playground romps;
Jump, vault, hurdle, dive!

Kis, Kis, Kis they call to me…

Puff, puff, puff; palatial pelage puffs
Warding winter winds.

Kis, Kis, Kis they call to me…

Sable, fox, squirrel, ermine
Treukh, Ushanka, Kubanka, Papakha.

Kis, Kis,Kis they call to me…

Take refuge from the cold,
Abandon ancient grounds.

Kis, Kis,Kis they call to me…

“My turn shall also come:
I sense the spreading of a wing.”

Thank you for reading. The last line is a quote from Osip Mandelstam’s poem “I hate the light” from Selected Poems.

These are the real Siberian Snow Cats.

The Hairbag Poet-“Transmosaic”

Hi and welcome to my Friday series titled The Hairbag Poet.

You can read about the history of this series here.

In the blogging world Fridays are known as Poetry Friday. You can read about Poetry Friday here.

I hope you enjoy these posts. Thanks for stopping by and reading, and please feel free to post your own poetry in the comments if you feel inspired by the photographs I always love reading other peoples perspective on “art”.

The Hairbag Poet

Photo by Donald. “Mosaic Flashlight” Don says, “I know, you’re blown away!”

Transmosaic

Identity shattered;
Soloist slayed.
Shards of glass separated by color,
Flashlight takes a knee.
I am lost in the bunch.

The Hairbag Poet-“Crime Scene”

Hi and welcome to my Friday series titled The Hairbag Poet.

You can read about the history of this series here.

In the blogging world Fridays are known as Poetry Friday. You can read about Poetry Friday here.

I hope you enjoy these posts. Thanks for stopping by and reading, and please feel free to post your own poetry in the comments if you feel inspired by the photographs I always love reading other peoples perspective on “art”.

The Hairbag Poet

 

Photo by Donald.

Crime Scene

Among the dirty leaves,
and frozen ice,
Naked, and decapitated,
Lie the bodies of the missing.
A pool of serial malice
Reveals the horror of summer crimes.

The Hairbag Poet-“Marginalized”

Hi and welcome to my Friday series titled The Hairbag Poet.


 

You can read about the history of this series here.

In the blogging world Fridays are known as Poetry Friday. You can read about Poetry Friday here.

I hope you enjoy these posts. Thanks for stopping by and reading, and please feel free to post your own poetry in the comments if you feel inspired by the photographs I always love reading other peoples perspective on “art”.

 

The Hairbag Poet

Photo by Donald. “Decay of the Backyard”

Marginalized

Rusted and discolored
Metal-bones creek.
Monkey bars sag like over-nursed breasts.
Nothing left but memories of
laughter and sticky fingers.
Passersby cast a repugnant eye.
I take my place among the forgotten,
Invisible,
and waiting for death.

The Hairbag Poet-“Thorn in Your Side”

Hi and welcome to my Friday series titled The Hairbag Poet.

You can read about the history of this series here.

In the blogging world Fridays are know as Poetry Friday. You can read about Poetry Friday here.

There is no color, or flower, or even adjective to represent the feelings I have for those who prey on innocent people. Since the outing of Harvey Weinstein, we have been saturated with stories of sexual harassment and assault. Victims of sexual abuse come in every age, shape, color, and gender.  Most recently I have been brought to tears watching the members of the girls USA gymnastics team face their abuser, and former team doctor, Larry Nassar.  My poem today is a tribute to the victims who have the courage to speak out and face their abuser.

Todays poem is known as an apostrophe.  According to poetry foundation (2017), apostrophe is “an address to a dead or absent person, or personification as if he or she were present.” The word apostrophe comes from the Greek meaning “turning away” (Allen, 2016). According to Allen, (2016), apostrophe poems are called poems of address; they add drama, and emotion, and allow the writer to express their feelings.

Just an aside, my brother was a police officer in New York City, and I love that he saw his daughters feminine toy as a “Defense against the harasses of the world”  Here’s to good men!

I hope you enjoy these posts. Thanks for stopping by and reading, and please feel free to post your own poetry in the comments if you feel inspired by the photographs I always love reading other peoples perspective on “art”.

 

The Hairbag Poet

Photo by Donald titled, “I Cacti” He describes this as “Defense against the harassers of the world”

Thorn in Your Side

Testosterone fueled,
Perverted proclivities yield mans graces,
and gentlemanly demeanor.
Admiring glances, and polite compliments
digress into lechery.
The greatest generation grows dim.
Nods, and winks, and doors held open
are lost in a past of fading grey matter.
Honor’s legacy stained by
soulless men who prey like rabid dogs
deigning emotion
as their mouths froth over meat they cannot digest.
Until now…
Collective voices rise
like the chorus of pounding hooves
across the plains.
Accusations shoot like thorns
from webbed torn mouths.
The predators have become the prey,
tongues laden with vacuous apologies.
They trip, stumble, and fall
back into their thorny bramble,
Where I will stand watch,
smiling,
as they choke on their just desserts.

The Hairbag Poet-Extinction

            Hi and welcome to my Friday series The Hairbag Poet.

You can read about the history of this series here.

In the blogging world Fridays are known as Poetry Friday.  You can read about Poetry Friday here. I will plan on posting The Hairbag Poet each Friday.

Today the Hairbag Poet, (that’s me), will be discussing the Soliloquy. I just love the way the word soliloquy rolls off the tongue, like lullaby or happy hour. It’s a great word all by itself, but ironically it defines a great many spoken words. Soliloquy comes from the Latin sōliloquium meaning a talking to oneself.

According to Poetry Foundation (2017), “A soliloquy is a monologue in which a character in a play expresses thoughts and feelings while being alone on stage. Soliloquies allow dramatists to communicate information about a character’s state of mind, hopes, and intentions directly to an audience. Soliloquies became a dramatic convention in the 1590s and 1600s, when playwrights used the technique to allow characters to reveal important plot points.” Of course we all are familiar with the master of the soliloquy, William Shakespeare, and some of his famously written soliloquys from the plays Hamlet, Macbeth, and Othello. 

Hamlet:
To be, or not to be–that is the question:
Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles
And by opposing end them…

A brief 39-word excerpt out of a 278-word soliloquy from Shakespeare’s Hamlet. Brilliant right?

I hope you enjoy these posts. Thanks for stopping by and reading, and please feel free to post your own poetry in the comments if you feel inspired by the photographs. I always love reading other peoples perspective on “art”.

 

The Hairbag Poet

Photo by Donald titled, “Fog! Desolation! The dinosaur cookie goes extinct.”

Extinction

I’m not extinct…
Yet.
Try as they might, I run for cover.
Neither meteor nor volcano will be my demise.
Hark,
who goes there?
My foggy cloak’s opacity is waning.
Damn these jimmies!
Oh how my gait dulls.
My wilting dough is no match against natures icy tundra.
Hot breath wisps at the nape of my neck,
causing prickly hairs to rise like quills en garde.
My nostrils inhale the hungered anticipation.
The time is near.
I too will disappear without a trace.
A scientific mystery or a confectionary folklore?
Alas, a crumbly remnant in the fossil record.
Indeed
This is the way the cookie crumbles.