The Hairbag Poet-Perspective

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.

Today I will be presenting two poems. One is from the perspective of the dolls, and the other is from the perspective of the Aliens, characters that you may remember from some of my previous poems. This has been a fun series to write, if not a little creepy.

Today’s poem, and really this whole series has been an example of anthropomorphism. According to Poetry Foundation anthropomorphism is “a form of personification in which human qualities are attributed to anything inhuman, usually a god, animal, object, or concept.” I think children are always bringing objects to life. It’s why I have the photo’s I do. The dolls, and toys in most of these posts are my nieces. However I believe their worn torn world are the result of my brother’s imagination. When I think about it, I feel like my brother and I are kids again, playing with toys; we’re just a little older, and our sense of humor has warped a bit, but we’re creating, collaborating, imagining, and having a good laugh.

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 who says, “The barbies attack the fairy village.”

Perspective: Dolls

Warriors come out to play.
Revenge is what we seek today.
Fairy Queen,
you’ve killed our tribe,
and now in hollowed oak you hide.
Come out and face us
one last time!
Let justice judge
your vicious crime.

Photo by Donald who says, “The Aliens still on their trek come upon the battle.”

Perspective: Aliens

We are the aliens
from X-241,
our planet is Ogda,
it’s warmed by one sun.

My offspring and I
landed last year in Maine
in your snowy, cold land
with its icy terrain.

We were chased by clawed beasts,
and a smoking old guy,
so we ran for our lives
as our spaceship stood by.

We escaped to our home,
we regrouped,
and we planned
to return to this land
we could not understand.

So we waited till Summer
when earth neared the sun,
and traveled through space;
another journey begun.

But not much has changed,
this land they call Maine,
remains brutally cold;
a hostile domain.

We’ve witnessed a war
between dolls and a fairy
that’s inhumane, ruthless,
vicious and scary.

Barbie doll heads sat skewered on spikes,
that were severed with ease,
by the Fairy Queen’s strike.

This visual nightmare,
a crime wicked, mean.
“An eye for an eye”
claims this homicidal Queen.

It’s time that we leave now
and head westernmost,
to the fog laden, misty, Pacific seacoast.

I am sad to say that my brother Donald has moved from Maine to Washington State, and we will no longer be sharing the same coast. Though I’m happy for him, and his family, because they are moving to a beautiful area, I will miss them dearly. I look forward to what the west coast will inspire in Donald’s photography, and the future of the Hairbag Poet.

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Hairbag Poet-Ekphrasis-Coming Home

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.

Each and every week I post a picture, and write a poetic interpretation of what I’m seeing, but I didn’t realize (because I’m the Hairbag Poet) that this is actually a type of poetry known as Ekphrasis. In Greek Ekphrasis means description. According to Poetry Foundation,  “An ekphrastic poem is a vivid description of a scene or, more commonly, a work of art. Through the imaginative act of narrating and reflecting on the “action” of a painting or sculpture, the poet may amplify and expand its meaning.”

Ironically my brother has been doing a study/portfolio/ of his Wand of Knowledge toting Alien, and has sent me two photos this week of Alien family experiences in the snowy tundra of Maine.  I say ironically because I too have been a bit alien obsessed, having found the new X-File series recorded in the free on demand section of my cable. Have I been living under a rock not knowing that Scully and Mulder were back in action?  Can I just say how happy I am!

Scully and Mulder are back in the new X-Files!

I’ve titled this poem Coming Home, both for the Alien photo, and my nostalgic return to one of my favorite T.V. series.

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”.

Photo by Donald who says, “Facing harsh conditions on third planet the alien finds shelter for offspring and the wand of knowledge.”

We hale from solar system
X-241.
Our planet is Ogda.
It’s warmed by one sun.

We traveled through space
to learn and explore,
when our vehicle crashed
on your Maine ocean floor.

We signaled for help,
but our systems were down
so we swam to the shore,
and walked into town.

Your planet is harsh
Your language is odd
we were chased from the sea
by an angry clawed mob

We need to find shelter,
safety, protection
contact command
and prepare for ejection.

This abandoned old house
will do nicely I think,
with its minty green shutters
and door painted pink.

My offspring and I
will camp here for the night.
Our Wand of All Knowledge
provides crystal light.

This plastic pitched shelter
will be our new home
where our space crafts can land
in this crude aerodrome.

I open the door,
and step quickly inside
relieved to discover
its unoccupied.

My Wand of all Knowledge
is fixed with a chip
that signals distress
to our home mothership.

It may take some time
for help to arrive
my offspring and I
must learn to survive

in this place they call Maine
with its downy white lands
and monstrous sea creature’s
double clawed hands.

Will the aliens be rescued?  Will Mulder and Scully be called in to investigate strange Maine alien sightings? Will the smoking man and his shadow government conspire to get there first?

Stay tuned. Until next week…