Wednesday, February 28, 2007

Apology

I'll have to apologize to the weather angels for my previous post. There's blue sky out there now, with some fast-moving white clouds and some wind.

It's an "i" day in the vowel rating system.

The next NRWQ:

It comes as a surprise again and again
that dark skies
that linger
will eventually give way to blue.

Tuesday, February 27, 2007

Weather continues

The grayness today is such
that it could be said
that a consonant
has been added

If I were a certain creative character out there, I would now claim to have originated a new poetic form.

Maybe I have. It could be called the non-rhyming weather quatrain, for example, abbreviated NRWQ.

By the way: One of the main rules of the NRWQ is that the 2nd and 3rd lines have to start with that.

Monday, February 26, 2007

Nothing to say no. 3

There might be more to say than nothing (be warned). It has been said about me that I hardly ever run out of words, and that, if I do, that's a very bad sign.

Today's list of events (non-exhaustive):
  • The rain gods meant well and opened their buckets.
  • The chill gods meant equally well.
  • Today's light was mostly grey. No, gray. One vowel grayer than grey.
  • Some primroses for sale at the grocery store brightened things.


  • I treated myself to some super expensive chocolate, the wrapper of which was more expensive than the taste.
  • I got work done slightly after the deadline, and then felt it was too late to get started on more work.
  • Failed miserably again in the fields of morning yoga & fibonacci.
  • What am I going do about that fall vacation with scooters that Blogger keeps suggesting for tabs?

Today was good,
today was fun,
tomorrow there will be
another one.


– Dr. Leon Seuss

Saturday, February 24, 2007

Shameful admission

I have been neglecting my warm-up fibs.

However, I seem to be doing just fine without them.

The gun is loaded with other shot.

– Gene Browdy

There's nothing to say no. 2

The only proper solution
to this condition
would be silence,
but that would be difficult,
wouldn't it?

It's good that we drink
from the well of loneliness
now and then,
how else would we
appreciate company?

(The above link is to give due credit to the inventor of the turn of phrase.)

PS: Can I ever avoid saying something?

PS2: Who gives a shit?

Let there be light


Let there be light,
let there be an invasion of light,
light to inhale, light to store,
light to shower
on our surroundings

– Louis Green

Friday, February 23, 2007

A poetic-phonemic-semantic development

ELLE
LP
LIP
FLIP
FLYURA
FLIPPER
FLAPPER

KNAP-SACKER

STALE CRACKER

A MONUMENT FOR FLYURA
SHE MIGHT CLIMB, SHE MIGHT FALL OFF OF,
SHE MIGHT LAUGH ABOUT, SHE MIGHT REMEMBER

Wednesday, February 21, 2007

Now a pro

Long ago I was also an amateur crastinator, but I have long since moved to the pro ranks.
Gregory K.

Wonder if Greg's a relative of Tonio K.?

Anyway, I'm also a full-grown pro. Otherwise I wouldn't be blogging. I'd be doing something existential, necessary, economically valuable, you get the drift.

Not doing what they call stealing the good Lord's day in German.

N.B.

"There's nothing to say."
"Oh?"
"Yes, I'm typing letters, but there's nothing to say."
"Not even to blog?"
"Not even that. Even though that's close."
"You're making it sound like the end of something. Something so –"
"Final?"
"Yes. But then again –"
"But then again?"
"You just gushed a fib!"
"Well, yes, I guess I did."
"So?"
"That doesn't count. That's like professional. You know."
"I don't. But I suppose it's better than scooters during a vacation in fall."
"Where the hell did that come from?"
"Blogger."
"Oy cee."
"Toodleloo!"

Sunday, February 18, 2007

A fib

An
arm
comes up,
breath in steam,
eleven chortles,
a new morning is rising fast.


A fibonacci poem. Don't ask me where the eleven chortles came from – they were somehow associated with the morning imagination that brought this forth.

Oh, for those who don't know: fibs are six-liners with 1/1/2/3/5/8 syllables.

This is my second one. The first one was more or less this in the language of Hölderlin, Goethe & co.