A year ago I was studying the Book of Judges with Rabbi Bronwen Mullin in the Artist’s Beit Midrash at my shul, Town & Village Synagogue. A year ago our … Continue reading Who Will Be Our Deborah Now?

A year ago I was studying the Book of Judges with Rabbi Bronwen Mullin in the Artist’s Beit Midrash at my shul, Town & Village Synagogue. A year ago our … Continue reading Who Will Be Our Deborah Now?
As I write, my fingers light on the keyboard, I draw a sudden blank
My muse arrives, four pawed, fur coat silky to the touch
Like Calliope she approaches staring with frankness at my scribbled crank
Regardless of her harshness I welcome her presence which can be, at times, a bit much
Calliope, it’s been said of the muse, carried an assertive flair
Only the most worthy of artists could draw her favored hand
Such as it is with my black and white short-hair
Her business is her own, I gain favor only at her feline command
Who am I to have a muse such as her?
My feeble words cobbled in an unruly state
Structure aligns in the pattern of her fur
The author rises within me, articulate
A sonnet I have penned to my feline friend
Calliope transcends all realms of self – creativity has no end
MMN 2018
This is a poem for the one who pushed my Indiegogo campaign past the half way mark. Dark were the days where development slowed From such a strong start at … Continue reading A Poem for the One Who Pushed My
Weekly Reading Assignment : The origins of opera
The Cambridge book on Opera, chapter 2 covered the first operatic forms. Greek drama. It has been thirty years since I studied any Greek drama and I had to research the origins of strophe and antistophe, ‘cause I couldn’t remember what they meant. Strophe – to turn. Antistrophe – to turn back again as in a reply to stroph. I won’t get all up in this with you as I’m pretty sure if you’re actually reading this you DON’T want me getting all up in this. The operative thing here is that diving into the structure of Greek drama brought me to an unexpected place – PROSODY!
And where has the study of prosody lead me? To the basics of literary structure, of course. And then, just as quickly, to poetry. No surprise, really. My little web log entry tonight is actually a long-winded excuse to inform you (dear reader) that I abandoned my reading of chapter 2 and took a wild ride into the study of iambs and their many cousins: anapest, dactyl, trochee and others. I studied all this in college circa 1982 but today it lives for me as something completely new. Here’s what I did with what I learned.
Iambic dimeter – 2 iambs per line
There is a way
That I can write
Could be by day
Perhaps at night
There is one thing
That I must do
Put pen to pad
How ever bad
And write anew
___________________________
Iambic trimester – 3 iambs per line
They’re working on the street
Jack-hammers on concrete
Ringing through the night
Who cares what time it is
___________________________
Iambic tetrameter – 4 iambs per line
She stooped to pick the basket up
Filled with fresh washed cloths, it was
The weight of it surprised her some
As she carried it across the floor
Quite the shock for her to see
Two ears emerge amid the wash
Black and pink those ears appeared
In contrast to her nice black pants
Now covered in fur from waist to hem
The feline gave a quizzical look
Stretched its paw across her bra
To roll its head in its comfy bed
And reach its arm to touch her hand
As if to say “It’s all okay;
I’ll help you with the wash today.”
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Iambic pentameter – 5 iambs per line
These walls contain so many stories told
Of love and life of a family growing old
Where once the toddlers played amid their toys
Two men now occupy the space of boys
This home is all that they have ever known
Of school and friends and kissing in the dark
We gave them all that they would need to live
And pushed to make the best of what we had
Today we must stand back and let them go
Into a world that we cannot control