The Hairbag Poet-Eye Spy

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.

Hi Ho, and Ho, Ho, and Happy Holidays to all! It has been quite some time since my last Hairbag Poet post, and that’s because my loving (loser) brother has been unable (refuses) to send me any new photos from his west coast relocation. So today I have a guest photographer (my friend Carol) who was kind enough to send me some of her awesome (weird) pictures from Paris (my 2nd favorite city).

For a long time I have been wanting to write a post on Iambic Pentameter. I’m pretty sure we can all agree that Shakespeare’s primary writing style was probably one of those banes of high school English Class, along with Beowulf, and The Canterbury Tales. Trying to read Old, Middle, and Early Modern English was not an easy task as a teenager, and quite frankly isn’t an easy task as an adult either. Although I have struggled with the form of Iambic Pentameter, I yearn to get it right.

Iambic Pentameter is actually the combination of two poetic terms: Iamb and Pentameter. Iamb refers to “A metrical foot consisting of an unaccented syllable followed by an accented syllable…It is the most common meter of poetry in English” (Poetry Foundation, 2018). As we know, William Shakespeare wrote all of his plays and poems in this meter. According to Poetry Foundation (2018), a pentameter is a line made up of five feet, and is the most common metrical line in English. “Iambic pentameter is a beat of foot that uses 10 syllables in each line” (Literary Devices, 2018).

Here is an example from Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night:

“If music be the food of love, play on;
Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting,
The appetite may sicken, and so die.
That strain again! it had a dying fall…
Stealing and giving odour! Enough; no more:
‘Tis not so sweet now as it was before.
O spirit of love! how quick and fresh art thou,
That, notwithstanding thy capacity…
But falls into abatement and low price,
Even in a minute: so full of shapes is fancy
That it alone is high fantastical.”

Brilliant right? I’m almost embarrassed to follow William Shakespeare.

Here’s just a quick history behind my pictures today. My friend Carol spent several weeks in Paris this summer while her husband was working on his book. She would often send me pictures from her days wondering the city. One day I received a picture of these weird looking eyeball street posts, and have to admit I was a little creeped out by them, imagining cameras inside those stony pupils watching one’s every move. I thought they would make an excellent subject for the Hairbag Poet.

This is my first attempt at iambic pentameter, and I hope I managed to get it right. I also wrote in monorhyme which is the use of only one rhyme in each stanza.

Photos by Carol

Eye Spy

I walked along the Paris streets last night;
A city swathed in scintillescent light.
I stumbled on a rather frightening sight,
of painted orb like eyeball pegmatite.

A visual, or a vision, watching me?
Big brother, or just streetwise artistry?
Direction générale de la sécurité?
Either way I find the eyes creepy.

I bowed my head and pulled my hood down low
But eyeballs tracked my movements to and fro
on sidewalks optic archipelago,
Paranoia palpable from head to toe.

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

HAPPY NEW YEAR TO EVERYONE!

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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-“Ephemeral Friends”

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’ve been spending quite a bit of time reading about different types of poetry terms and forms. Since I am The Hairbag Poet, I realize I may like to write poetry, but I have a lot to learn about poetry, and trust me there is a lot to learn!  Todays poem, I think, fits the form of an Epigram.

According to poets.org “An epigram is a short, pithy saying, usually in verse, often with a quick, satirical twist at the end. The subject is usually a single thought or event. The word “epigram” comes from the Greek epigraphein, meaning “to write on, inscribe,” and originally referred to the inscriptions written on stone monuments in ancient Greece. The first-century epigrams of the Roman poet Martial became the model for the modern epigram.”

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 “Scrub brush with a Leaf”. He comments, “I think it speaks for itself!!!”

Who says scrub brushes and leaves can’t be friends?
The Wind?
Damn him!

The Hairbag Poet

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

A few weeks ago, around Thanksgiving, I was talking with my very talented sister-in-law (Cherise) about collaborating on an idea I was working on. Cherise is a very artistic, and intelligent woman, and has many talents, but her photography is stunning. Her pictures are amazing.  She takes her camera with her everywhere, and captures moments that take your breath away.  Cherise and my brother live in Maine, which is just the perfect backdrop for any photographer, and I thought we could combine her love of photography and my love of writing, and poetry, and she happily agreed.

However, what I didn’t realize was my brothers disappointment, hurt, and rejected feelings at not being asked to collaborate with me as well (insert baby violin player here).  He texted me after they got home expressing his feelings of repudiation.  So I told him to submit his portfolio, and I would consider a possible collaboration with him as well (I really didn’t mean it). My brother is an ex NYPD cop, who is now a really great cook, but he’s not exactly what you would call “artsy”. He sent me his photos anyway, and they took my breath away (like when you get punched in the stomach, or you smell something foul and have to hold your breath).  Now I’m not one to back down from a challenge, so I happily provided some poetry to his “work”. He continued to send me photographs, and I continued to meet his challenge, and found myself having a lot of fun.

Now fast forward a few weeks…

I was using the term Hairbag to describe someone I thought was not a stellar worker one day and got a few funny laughs from my friends who had never heard the term Hairbag before. I couldn’t remember the origin of the word, but I knew it somehow related to a police slang, that I no doubt picked up from my brother many years ago.  I texted him asking him to explain to me what the word meant, and indeed it was a derogatory police slang for cops who do nothing, complain, have given up, and are waiting to retire. So we had a good laugh that I used the  word appropriately, he sent me more of his photographic disasters (I mean works of art), and I continued to return lousy poetry (eloquent verse), and he started calling me the Hairbag Poet, which made me laugh, and I thought it would be fun to share our collaborations.

I am always inspired by great collaborators, and two writers who have inspired me to unite artwork and poetry are Laura Purdie Salas and Penny Parker Klostermann. They do it beautifully.

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.

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 perspectives on “art”.

The Hairbag Poet

Here is our first collaboration:

Photo by Donald who says, “The depth and the lines are amazing!!”

Manic Depression

Duplicitous I am.
Cool steel fissures divides.
Dirty, sharp blades, and metal
tines haunt my nightmares,
Quelled only with the ablutions
of warm, sudsy foam.