park

Bear Cubs

Folder: 
A Fellow Creature

 

The political party which

served the interests of serial hunters

voted en masse

that in the Alaskan national park

hibernating bear cubs

could be shot or beaten

to death by killers with clubs.

 

View saiom's Full Portfolio

Trees In The Green




Trees in the Green

 

A view of the trees

Remembering that they are

life forms jutting out

In cemetery prairies

Also, in parks & parklands

 







Author's Notes/Comments: 

Reedited 08.31.2019 (corrected a misspelled word in the Author's Notes/Comments: introspecive - intros*pective); 07.05.2019; 07.02.2019 grammatical error correction: (due *to, versus due *from, self-directedness versus self-directed learning)  


Reedited 06.22.2019 (for corrections regarding the mismatched syllables in the last line which was not seven syllables (when I thought it was before), if the 5-7-5-7-7 basic tanka description is to be followed.  This error was intuitable in that specific time, yet the error was still committed because I thought that I was doing it right  (I would recall that it was possibly due to excitability in those initial moments; & which I only have been able to finally confirm along the way by verifying its initial descriptive notion as I went over it this time (ipso facto, earlier today).  This is a helpful aid in my self-directed learning since this was an issue with descriptivism.



06.07.2019 reedition (for grammatical & semantical errors):



This was just an attempt at composing a "tanka" after a very, very long time that I had not composed one.  Although not published here, I have known that I have created some Japanese poems beforehand  (in the decades that are passé).  Believing, at first, that I was mindfully creating a haiku, which was my 'real intention' (until this was being thought out right now), my recounting proved that I am mistaken (mostly due to the descriptions I once held in my mind to be 'true'—e.g., a 'Gettier problem', in an epistemological sense).  In my mind, I was wanting to make a poem, in short verses.  And I could not help but recall the 'Japanese art', until later when I began realizing that—via a causal relation—"I might have gotten something wrong" (also by virtue of merely going by the term's/definition's sake).  Both of their definitions were readily available in my mobile device's built-in dictionary & are easily accessible; yet despite that obvious breakthrough of technological convenience, I figured that it is not enough for me to truly grasp the essence of such a particular Japanese "art form" (from an 'a priori' knowledge).  And then, somehow, the 'a posteriori' notion prodded me because of this process in my introspective/reflective note/commentary). This particular poem, (i.e., an actual example of my 'tanka') has got me in that realization.  Its poetic style have me liking it more, which emphatically may have quite something to do with why I liked it all the more (because of its refined/distilled appeal).  Quite, I liked it so much (I thought)..even though I still have yet to figure out both of their distinctive qualities (i.e., tanka vs. haiku) which does not warrant a self-directed learning in any way.  Right now, I cannot yet say why, in terms of technicality, because I just wanted to emphasize a 'particularity' whenever I expound on its adverbialism (in this respect, with my objectification/objectivity).  The rest would be left to the spontaneity of the learning experiences of life.  Although, truthfully, a tanka - how my experimentation turned out to be, has that totally different approach & meaning to poetry (as compared to a "haiku")..while I mistakenly was thinking that I was actually composing a haiku for that matter.  That spontaneous occurrence mattered in that it happened aptly, when I would have liked it to be happening at this time.  The end result is valuable empirical data [outcome].—The mobile device, where the sources of informational products were "actually" taken from, & that which had provided me with the quickest possible reference at the time, was just a particular "language text" defining the "definiendum" ["tanka"].  This was seemingly the recallable driving force and decision point for its final publication.  Thus, it ended up here, howsoever, & that had also given me enough (or more) reasons to examine my poems—in this capacity.  Once again, I apologize for my long notes (which you can expect sometimes whenever I have something to post/to share here).  Kindly please pardon my philosophizing as I have tried to give my comment on several accounts or viewpoints (a multiperspective approach with a lot of contextual dimensions & intertextuality).  Thank you for looking on!

 

 

 

Jung Park and his opinion on Marriage

Marriage, what a delicacy. 

But it's better to stay as a celibacy.

If I would marry someone, I'd do it genuinly.

To give love affectionately.

 

I don't want to do it unintentionally.

It'd be awful if I did it with hesitancy, questionably, and senselessly.

But eventually, I will marry professionally and majestically.

 

 

Jung Park + Mystery Girl

She was a teacher. I loved her so.

I was a student. I loved her so.

It was forbidden one sided love.

I wanted to hold her like a baseball glove.

 

Hair as dark as ruby.

Voice as harsh as reality.

I can't wait till next year.

For I have nothing to fear.

Poem about Jung Park

There was once a Korean name Jung.

He was tall, slender, and fun.

Both great outside and in bed.

When the girls see him, they turn red.

 

He has over a million girlfriends.

And many more wives.

I would totally recommend. 

To let him dive into your lives!

A Breeze of Memory

A graveyard of dead trees

Fallen leaves of vast red and orange seas

Squirrels scurry before winter strikes

As children play while others pass on bikes

 

harmony of the trees an the wind come together and sing

As a bird chirps then stops to clean it's wing

Children shrieking and screaming as they play

Angry armies of cars roar past, then fly away

 

Memories start of when I was a kid

Only broken away by time an what it did

Sitting still only in question

Of who I am and to what is my impression

 

I laughed . . . I played here

I was happy unknown of fear

But then reality again breaks memory's connection

Only to be lost again, still unknown of my reflection

 
Like
 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

annnd, here you have yet another class assignment that I did way back.

 

Celephais

Folder: 
Poetry

A seaport in the land of Ooth-Nargai,

Being build of sky-blue marble;

Topped by slender minarets.

 

Bronze statues of famous heroes,

One page topped from Al Azif.

In the center the temple to Nath-Horthath,

Where eighty orchid-wreathed priests serve,

No less than ten thousand years old art they.

 

The greatest trading center in the Dreamlands,

Creatures of all sort in their bazaars.

As in Sona-Nyl, there being no time,

Nobody ever ages, dreamers aloft

In the taverns of Celephais.

 

Nobody matures, remaining forever innocent.

King Kuranes: King of Celephais,

Lost his life through drug addiction.

Living forever in the Dreamlands,

In the Palace of Seventy Delights,

Built of flawless rose-crystal.

 

Past the eastern gate is a park,

Wherein the King build a Norman Abbey

And a small Cornish fishing village,

To resemble his native Cornwall,

To which he can never return,

Now that his waking form is dead...

Author's Notes/Comments: 

A poem about Celephais.