tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-83118558963898323362024-03-12T20:49:34.153-07:00Blue RaincoatPoetry Blog for the exploration of poetry and my first blog.dperringshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15097437223929822162noreply@blogger.comBlogger5125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8311855896389832336.post-68078707709379575982010-10-14T17:20:00.000-07:002010-10-15T09:26:17.262-07:00Geometry October 14, 2010<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">The posting of the following poem was inspired by the discovery of the blog:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b><span style="color: #664e38; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", "sans-serif";"><a href="http://poetrywithmathematics.blogspot.com/"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: yellow;">Intersections -- Poetry with Mathematics</span></span></a><span style="color: yellow;"> </span></span></b><span style="color: yellow;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Which looks at the intersection of Mathematics and Poetry. The posts are thoughtful and interesting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">GEOMETRY</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">By Rita Dove</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">Geometry</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">I prove a theorem and the house expands:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">the windows jerk free to hover near the ceiling,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">the ceiling floats away with a sigh.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">As the walls clear themselves of everything</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">but transparency, the scent of carnations</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">leaves with them. I am out in the open</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">and above the windows have hinged into butterflies,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">sunlight glinting where they’ve intersected.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">They are going to prove some point true and unproven.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">In the October 6<sup>th</sup> post: <span style="color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", "sans-serif";"><a href="http://poetrywithmathematics.blogspot.com/2010/10/poetry-in-other-words-is-mathematics.html"><span style="color: yellow;">'Poetry, in other words, is mathematics"</span></a><span style="color: yellow;"> from the intersection blog the author highlights two different authors and how they approach the intersection of math and poetry. </span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;"><span style="color: yellow;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", "sans-serif";"><span style="color: yellow;">The first is the article</span> </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times", "serif"; font-size: 11.5pt;">-- </span></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", "sans-serif"; font-size: 11.5pt;"><a href="http://www.telegraph.co.uk/science/steve-jones/8043205/National-Poetry-Day-unlock-the-mathematical-secrets-of-verse.html"><span style="font-family: "Times", "serif";">National Poetry Day: unlock the mathematical secrets of verse</span></a></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times", "serif"; font-size: 11.5pt;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times", "serif"; font-size: 11.5pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">by</span> </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", "sans-serif"; font-size: 11.5pt;"><a href="http://www2.eng.cam.ac.uk/~tpl/"><span style="font-family: "Times", "serif";">Tim Love</span></a></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times", "serif"; font-size: 11.5pt;">, <span style="color: yellow;">British</span> </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", "sans-serif"; font-size: 11.5pt;"><a href="http://homepage.ntlworld.com/mariella.gregori/tim/poetry/career/poems.html"><span style="font-family: "Times", "serif";">poet</span></a></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times", "serif"; font-size: 11.5pt;"> <span style="color: yellow;">and member of the Computer Systems Group in the Engineering Department at Cambridge University. He is interested in the structure of poems and the importance of the<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>rules for these poems. He finds poetry being closely related to a</span> <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;">particular branch of mathematics known as combinatorics, the study of permutations.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;">Then there is </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", "sans-serif"; font-size: 11.5pt;"><a href="http://bolstablog.wordpress.com/2010/04/10/palindromes/"><span style="font-family: "Times", "serif";">Phil Bolsta</span></a> <span style="color: yellow;">who has an interest in palindromes and he provides a rather long list of them in is blog. But the other item that he posts is an amazing piece of<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>word structure gymnastics titled<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“The Lost Generation” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>which can be read from top to bottom for one meaning and from bottom to top for the opposite meaning.</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", "sans-serif"; font-size: 11.5pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">The Lost Generation</span></span></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="color: yellow;">I am part of a lost generation<br />
and I refuse to believe that<br />
I can change the world<br />
I realize this may be a shock but<br />
“Happiness comes from within”<br />
is a lie, and<br />
“Money will make me happy”<br />
So in 30 years I will tell my children<br />
they are not the most important thing in my life<br />
My employer will know that<br />
I have my priorities straight because<br />
work<br />
is more important than<br />
family<br />
I tell you this<br />
Once upon a time<br />
Families stayed together<br />
but this will not be true in my era<br />
this is a quick fix society<br />
Experts tell me<br />
30 years from now, I will be celebrating the 10th anniversary of my divorce<br />
I do not concede that<br />
I will live in a country of my own making<br />
In the future<br />
Environmental destruction will be the norm<br />
No longer can it be said that<br />
My peers and I care about this earth<br />
It will be evident that<br />
My generation is apathetic and lethargic<br />
It is foolish to presume that<br />
There is hope.<br />
And all of this will come true unless we choose to reverse it.</span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="color: yellow;">Check out the links, they are both very interesting.</span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">Tim Love sees a connection between poetry and the mathematical field of combinatorics, the study of permutations. One way to look at poetry and mathematics is </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Poetry is to writing</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>As proofs are to mathematics</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">A complete mathematical proof <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>covers all cases (an infinite number) an many of these proofs are written with short concise statements.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">Many poems do the same thing addressing larger than life issues on many different levels using only a short combination of words. This economy of words is one of the great things about poetry. Mathematics deals with infinite possibilities and poetry is a container for longing. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div></div>dperringshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15097437223929822162noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8311855896389832336.post-71799965842959495322010-10-07T16:44:00.000-07:002010-10-07T16:47:36.774-07:00Introduction to PoetryThe trigger for this poem was the discussion yesterday of "The Red Wheel Barrel". The poem is pretty straight forward. The message appears to be to experience the poem, let it come in through the senses rather then through the brain. If you do that it will be a much richer and complete experience.<br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-outline-level: 1;"><b><span style="color: black; font-family: "Verdana", "sans-serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-font-kerning: 18.0pt;">Introduction to Poetry</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-outline-level: 1;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-outline-level: 2;"><i><span style="color: black; font-family: "Verdana", "sans-serif";">Billy Collins</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-outline-level: 2;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><span style="color: yellow; font-family: "Verdana", "sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">I ask them to take a poem<br />
and hold it up to the light<br />
like a color slide</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: yellow;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><span style="color: yellow; font-family: "Verdana", "sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">or press an ear against its hive.</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: yellow;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><span style="color: yellow; font-family: "Verdana", "sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">I say drop a mouse into a poem<br />
and watch him probe his way out,</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: yellow;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><span style="color: yellow; font-family: "Verdana", "sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">or walk inside the poem's room<br />
and feel the walls for a light switch.</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: yellow;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><span style="color: yellow; font-family: "Verdana", "sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">I want them to waterski<br />
across the surface of a poem<br />
waving at the author's name on the shore.</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: yellow;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><span style="color: yellow; font-family: "Verdana", "sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">But all they want to do<br />
is tie the poem to a chair with rope<br />
and torture a confession out of it.</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: yellow;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><span style="color: yellow; font-family: "Verdana", "sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">They begin beating it with a hose<br />
to find out what it really means.</span></b></div>dperringshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15097437223929822162noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8311855896389832336.post-62213978212550041522010-10-06T09:29:00.000-07:002010-10-07T08:47:03.933-07:00The Red Wheelbarrow<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7pEI34aI1iIr_JfNg1q4PJ355-lz3LBHqa0z99ElV21I2h0JwJMwttodLisobPxB_5KeVerKW-AJZ2ZtJ14YPJHGdAy1Ex7BXJvN8pOvSalArUA_UUkDxgK07OTblaLJkrL_q8QY3ECNI/s1600/red+wheelbarrow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="219" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7pEI34aI1iIr_JfNg1q4PJ355-lz3LBHqa0z99ElV21I2h0JwJMwttodLisobPxB_5KeVerKW-AJZ2ZtJ14YPJHGdAy1Ex7BXJvN8pOvSalArUA_UUkDxgK07OTblaLJkrL_q8QY3ECNI/s320/red+wheelbarrow.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><h2> </h2>I posted below the poem "The Red Wheelbarrow" by William Carlos Williams, the trigger for this poem was the part in the poem by Billy Collins titled "Picnic, Lightening" that I posted yesterday, were he discusses a wheelbarrow. My first introduction to the poem was about 15 years ago when i took a poetry class at UCLA extension. It was in the required reading material for the course. I cannot say the poem did much for me then or now even, except that the poem keeps finding me. Recently my wife used the book "Love that Dog" in her fourth grade class poetry section at Montair Elementary School, In Danville, California which featured the Red Wheelbarrow Poem.<br />
<br />
In Billy Collin's Poem "Introduction to Poetry" he says the following:<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">"But all they want to do</div><div style="text-align: center;">is tie the poem to a chair with rope</div><div style="text-align: center;">and torture a confession out of it."</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">I think the Wheelbarrow Poem is the perfect example of a poem that has been tied to a chair over and over again by endless people. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">The poem possesses a sort of "chicken and egg" feel. "So much depends on the wheelbarrow" begs the question would the white chickens even be there if it were not for the wheelbarrow. The rain is necessary to the chickens and for the need of the wheelbarrow. The white chickens give one the clue that we are talking about a farm or backyard garden area. The rain glaze on the wheelbarrow evokes a pleasant pastoral image.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">In Woody Allen's movie "Annie Hall" one of the last lines in the movie is "perhaps we need the eggs". Maybe so much depends on the wheelbarrow simply because we need the eggs.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><h2>The Red Wheelbarrow</h2><h3>William Carlos Williams</h3><hr /><blockquote>so much depends<br />
upon a red wheel<br />
barrow <br />
glazed with rain<br />
water <br />
beside the white<br />
chickens. <br />
<br />
</blockquote>dperringshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15097437223929822162noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8311855896389832336.post-91304034476417124662010-10-05T09:27:00.000-07:002010-10-05T14:42:11.830-07:00Facebook | David PerringsFacebook David Perrings: "and the click of the sundial<br />
as one hour sweeps into the next...............<br />
<br />
billy collins"<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: yellow;">Picnic, Lightning </span><br />
<span style="color: yellow;">By Billy Collins </span><br />
<span style="color: yellow;"> </span><br />
<blockquote><span style="color: yellow;">"My very photogenic mother died in a freak accident (picnic, lightning) when I was three." </span><br />
<a href="http://www.randomhouse.com/features/nabokov/lo_excerpt.html"><span style="color: cyan;">Lolita</span></a></blockquote><blockquote><span style="color: yellow;">It is possible to be struck by a meteor </span><br />
<span style="color: yellow;">or a single-engine plane </span><br />
<span style="color: yellow;">while reading in a chair at home. </span><br />
<span style="color: yellow;">Safes drop from rooftops </span><br />
<span style="color: yellow;">and flatten the odd pedestrian </span><br />
<span style="color: yellow;">mostly within the panels of the comics, </span><br />
<span style="color: yellow;">but still, we know it is possible, </span><br />
<span style="color: yellow;">as well as the flash of summer lightning, </span><br />
<span style="color: yellow;">the thermos toppling over, </span><br />
<span style="color: yellow;">spilling out onto the grass. </span><br />
<span style="color: yellow;">And we know the message </span><br />
<span style="color: yellow;">can be delivered from within. </span><br />
<span style="color: yellow;">The heart, no valentine, </span><br />
<span style="color: yellow;">decides to quit after lunch, </span><br />
<span style="color: yellow;">the power shut off like a switch, </span><br />
<span style="color: yellow;">or a tiny dark ship is unmoored </span><br />
<span style="color: yellow;">into the flow of the body's rivers, </span><br />
<span style="color: yellow;">the brain a monastery, </span><br />
<span style="color: yellow;">defenseless on the shore. </span><br />
<span style="color: yellow;">This is what I think about </span><br />
<span style="color: yellow;">when I shovel compost </span><br />
<span style="color: yellow;">into a wheelbarrow, </span><br />
<span style="color: yellow;">and when I fill the long flower boxes, </span><br />
<span style="color: yellow;">then press into rows </span><br />
<span style="color: yellow;">the limp roots of red impatiens-- </span><br />
<span style="color: yellow;">the instant hand of Death </span><br />
<span style="color: yellow;">always ready to burst forth </span><br />
<span style="color: yellow;">from the sleeve of his voluminous cloak. </span><br />
<span style="color: yellow;">Then the soil is full of marvels, </span><br />
<span style="color: yellow;">bits of leaf like flakes off a fresco, </span><br />
<span style="color: yellow;">red-brown pine needles, a beetle quick </span><br />
<span style="color: yellow;">to burrow back under the loam. </span><br />
<span style="color: yellow;">Then the wheelbarrow is a wilder blue, </span><br />
<span style="color: yellow;">the clouds a brighter white, </span><br />
<span style="color: yellow;">and all I hear is the rasp of the steel edge </span><br />
<span style="color: yellow;">against a round stone, </span><br />
<span style="color: yellow;">the small plants singing </span><br />
<span style="color: yellow;">with lifted faces, and the click </span><br />
<span style="color: yellow;">of the sundial </span><br />
<span style="color: yellow;">as one hour sweeps into the next.</span></blockquote>dperringshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15097437223929822162noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8311855896389832336.post-53422992137789107252010-10-04T09:28:00.000-07:002010-10-04T09:46:18.733-07:00Famous<span style="font-family: "Georgia", "serif";"><strong><span style="font-size: large;">Famous</span></strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Georgia", "serif";"><br />
<strong>The river is famous to the fish.</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Georgia", "serif";"><br />
<strong>The loud voice is famous to silence,<br />
which knew it would inherit the earth <br />
before anybody said so.</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Georgia", "serif";"><br />
<strong>The cat sleeping on the fence is famous to the birds<br />
watching him from the birdhouse. </strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Georgia", "serif";"><strong>The tear is famous, briefly, to the cheek.</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Georgia", "serif";"><strong>The idea you carry close your bosom<br />
is famous to your bosom.</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Georgia", "serif";"><strong>The boot is famous to the earth,<br />
more famous than the dress shoe,<br />
which is famous only to floors. </strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Georgia", "serif";"><strong>The bent photograph is famous to the one who carries it<br />
and is not at all famous to the one who is pictured.</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Georgia", "serif";"><strong>I want to be famous to shuffling men<br />
who smile while crossing streets, <br />
sticky children in grocery lines, <br />
famous as the one who smiled back.</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Georgia", "serif";"><strong>I want to be famous in the way a pulley is famous, <br />
or a buttonhole, not because it did anything spectacular, <br />
but because it never forgot what it could do. </strong></span><br />
<a href="http://www.poets.org/poets/poets.cfm?prmID=177" target="right"><span style="font-family: "Georgia", "serif";"><strong>~Naomi Nye</strong></span></a>dperringshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15097437223929822162noreply@blogger.com0