Art, Film, Photography, Books, Poetry, Politics, RattleBag and Rhubarb

All Our Yesterdays with the #1936Club

There was a period in the early 1960s when my parents had a television (in those days you rented) and one of the programs I liked to watch was All Our Yesterdays produced by Granada Television. It was a look back in time based on the newsreel footage of that week twenty-five years ago –  a week-by-week journey through the…

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Poetry, RattleBag and Rhubarb, The Cat

A Shadorma Chain on the Problem of Cats

 Shadorma – that wonderful bogus poetic form that is such fun to write – is perfect for the paean to the feline companion, the international cat of mystery. It’s also handy in keeping the basic arithmetic sharp. Six lines of 3, 5, 3, 3, 7 and 5 syllables. And done. She thrashes Her tail annoyed to Have to share my…

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Poetry, RattleBag and Rhubarb

Snow Day Distraction

Unpaired Words Prefix or Suffix reversed or left off. They have no in-, no un-, no dis-, and no -less. Orphaned, they amuse. Ept and whelmed, Gruntled, kempt, and couth. Flappable, Trepid, ert. Corrigible and gainly, Stinting and ruly. But there’s more! Effable, nocent, Nocuous, Pervious, Pecunious, turbed, shevelled And domitable. And change the Suffix! Reckful and Ruthful and Gormful…

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Poetry, RattleBag and Rhubarb

The Shadorma – Definition and Origin with Examples.

What is this Poetic form called Shadorma? Invention So some say. Spanish it is Alleged. Not so fast. Shadorma? Dictionary says Nothing, nowt, Not a thing. It’s a clever little hoax Useful, none the less. Shadorma? Spanish? That’s a laugh. Tish and tosh Internet Myth. But face it, they are fun To write, so there’s that. What I think Is…

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Art, Film, Photography, Poetry, Politics, RattleBag and Rhubarb

Wisdom of the Ages

Looks like having government officials who are Ignorant and Stupid is nothing new. Chinese poet Su Tung-Po nailed it centuries ago.  I was browsing through the International Times for 1969 – the way one does. And there – amid the fevered, underground, counter-cultural world of macrobiotics, head shop ads, rock and roll, anarchy, activism, and psychedelia as seen from North…

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Art, Film, Photography, City and Country, Poetry, RattleBag and Rhubarb

Show’s over folks. It’s November

November Show’s over, folks. And didn’t October do A bang-up job? Crisp breezes, full-throated cries Of migrating geese, low-floating coral moon. Nothing left but fool’s gold in the trees. Did I love it enough, the full-throttle foliage, While it lasted? Was I dazzled? The bees Have up and quit their last-ditch flights of forage And gone to shiver in their…

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Poetry, RattleBag and Rhubarb, WW1

A Heap of Broken Images

What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man, You cannot say, or guess, for you know only A heap of broken images, where the sun beats, And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief, And the dry stone no sound of water. Only There is shadow under this…

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Poetry, RattleBag and Rhubarb, WW2

Gertrude Stein: Collage and Code

While T.S.Eliot was skulking about in green face powder, Gertrude Stein was communing with Cubists and inventing linguistic collage. And – this is amazing – developing the code book for the Special Operations Executive of WW2.    Picasso was a frequent visitor to Stein’s salon and they became friends. While Picasso and the other Cubists were cutting and pasting and…

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Food, Poetry, Politics, RattleBag and Rhubarb

In the Salon with Gertrude Stein

It takes a lot of time to be a genius, you have to sit around so much doing nothing, really doing nothing.– Gertrude Stein  As you know from my earlier post I have recently been chatting with Gertrude Stein about her life and particularly aspects of her work Tender Buttons (1914). This was all facilitated by my early acquaintance with…

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Art, Film, Photography, Poetry, RattleBag and Rhubarb

A Little Called Gertrude Stein

There, there, said the parent to the anguished child whose ice cream fell to the gutter. There! There! said the whale watcher pointing at the spout on the horizon. There’s no there there, said Gertrude Stein when she visited Oakland in 1934 and found her childhood home razed to the ground. In what they called an experiment, Stamp and Rave…

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Poetry, RattleBag and Rhubarb

The Fifth Fact

There’s a move afoot to rename the ten American military bases named for Confederates No more forts named for the traitors and white supremacists of the Confederacy. Here’s Elizabeth Warren on the subject: If they are to be renamed for successful military figures who were not traitors, how about Fort Tubman? Tubman – the first woman to lead an armed…

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Poetry, RattleBag and Rhubarb

Sailing Through This to That

May the tide carry you out beyond the face of fear. Three poems for Sunday. Yesterday it snowed and I made tartar sauce – just mayonnaise, lemon juice, mustard and a chopped pickle – to go with the cubes of frozen fish. And today they say the temperature will rise into the 60s F. We have moved from an abundance…

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Poetry, RattleBag and Rhubarb

For Elaine

To a Sewist extraordinaire, with thanks. This is just to say …  . (Pictures to follow once they have been released from cardboard quarantine.) Sew – in anticipation of the opening of the package and – with many apologies to Paul Lawrence Dunbar: We Wear the Masks  We wear the masks that we both chose They hide our cheeks and…

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Poetry, RattleBag and Rhubarb

April and Silence: Three and a Bit from Tomas Tranströmer

Politics without mercy, demonic world events, power without responsibility, nature takes flight. National Insecurity The Under Secretary leans forward and draws an X and her ear-drops dangle like swords of Damocles. As a mottled butterfly is invisible against the ground so the demon merges with the opened newspaper. A helmet worn by no one has taken power. The mother-turtle flees…

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