Journey Through the Years: Rat

A series of interpretations based on The Chinese Zodiac.

Two months ago I pressed a promise into words. While sitting besides myself I was struck with an idea cradling a wealth of creative pasture. My “Journey through the years” collection would be my opening into an interesting perspective. My enthusiasm was tested quickly, my tongue recoiled at the richness of this morsel of a muse, my keys stuttered into an inertia that has offered nothing but silence onto these pages. While the year has still so much to offer, I will shy away no longer. Lets list together the years.

There will be poetry, prose and open ended letters, however the year speaks best. I wont know what vessel each piece of this zodiac will fall in, but I will find a way to offer it forward.

For our first of the years, here is our first.

 

 

The Rat

Under the banner of allegiance, I can lead you where you need. With my back to the west I will welcome the new beginnings, we shall  forget the taste of hunger. In all the ways I championed to be the first I can offer sweetness into your season.

This will be ours to claim, the year that opens hope. I have sampled the soured pearls of the vine, believe me when I steer you safe from sour fruit. We can head fully into the onlookers and mingle as one of them, as though cut from common stock we can stoke our value from wherever there is voice. Steadily and stern, wary of the wayward few.

Point easterly, north and south and welcome the coming sun. Light needs very little to argue for its life. There is no head way to be made for rootless quadrilles, no slight of speak to bite into if we believe our motive just.  The sun speaks a language without refute. Light is light.

Our year yields a bouquet of the most flavour, I list my luck on the life of the Lilly. She warns me with her pail gaze when winter rounds the bend, then we are free find for ourselves shelter. If the world lives as colourful as this beautiful sentiment of golds, greens, and blues. Then dawn your suns, pastures and skies, to rally our lucky stars.

These will be the banners of our years. Coursing through the rivers of time.

B.N.

Poems for Planets: Jupiter

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Even as the nights close out without a whisper of life across these pages, there forever remains the lingering promise of content. I never forget.

We are resuming the poetic planetary exploration with a look at Jupiter. This gas giant is the largest planet in our solar system. Methodologically Jupiter is the ruler of the sky, he bares close relations from the Greek Zeus, armed with a lightning bolt he sits at the throne.

Jupiter is the biggest planet in our solar system. Characterized by a gassy atmosphere, which earns it the name Gash Giant, and its sports a bunch a few rings and a lot of moons. Jupiter has the largest mood going. Ganymede, Jupiter’s largest moon, is larger than both Pluto and Mercury. How regal.

Without further delay let me get into it.

I present to you…

Jupiter: Acrostic

Jutting your royal rings into the thicket of this night,

Undying is your might that conjures that cutting light.

Pirouetting moons of many, score the air you breathe,

Inspecting your gaseous skies, in cries of “Glory Be!”

Titan features has this Ganymede who watches where you sleep

Eagle in eye, mighty in frame he rose from Zeus’ keep.

Raging for an age is the storm inside your heart,

the great red spot that rules the thickest of this night.

B.N.

Poems for Planets: Mars

 

 

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 Another wonderful day, and  poetry must go on. I did not forget this project!

Here is the latest of the lot, and Ode for the Martians among us!!

Mars is the planet that follows on after earth. Its the second smallest planet in our solar system, but boy what a beast. Crazy weather cycles, crazy sandstorms lasting for months and despite being smaller than the other planets it has the largest mountain in this solar system. Pretty bad ass planet, a fitting planet for the god of war, that ares spirit, that red planet, that Mars.

An interesting piece of information on the mythology that I found very interesting, was the icon spear of the god Mars. It was said to tremble and shake when war was coming, Imagine the excitement on his face when he felt that. Learning and piecing it all together was a challenge for sure.

 Without further delay, I give to you …

Mars: Ode

Your face forever flushed a royal crimson,

Your heart forever ready to brace the fight.

A man at arms, the ward of godly might.

 

Phobos and Deimos follow and echo your iron will*,

They march for a thousand leagues to feed you life.

Armored to the hilt holding your place in swollen nights.

 

 

We listen for coming glory in the tremors of your spear,

That summit of your Olympus that is the envy of your peers.

Your secret love for Venus showed your skill in love and war,

Though your size may strike us slight, your power harbors more.

Those torrents of raging mists rouse your passion for the fray,

Through the vigor of our Ares we live to fight another day.

*The two moons of mars.



B.N.

 

 

Writing 201, Assignment 5: Elegy – Fog

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It feels as though assignment 5 of this course has come around fairly quickly. Fortunately I have had a chance to recover from my exertions during assignment 4. Today’s prompt is “Fog”, as usual the good folks of The Daily Post allow a great deal of creativity with the days theme. The poetic device suggested for today’s assignments is the Metaphor. The form for today will be Elegy.

Elegy
ˈɛlɪdʒi/
noun
1.(in modern literature) a poem of serious reflection, typically a lament for the dead.
synonyms: funeral poem/song, burial hymn, lament, dirge, plaint, requiem, keening; More
2.(in Greek and Latin verse) a poem written in elegiac couplets, as notably by Catullus and Propertius.

My concrete curse has left me here, void of any sweetness.

The sour sun has found me, foolish and full of weakness.

Defeated, rendered, speechless,
suffocating in a spectrum,

Plectrums of vivid voice penetrating my souls septum.

My shroud of sureness withered by effervescence of clarity,

Naivety holds ground on ever lessening gravity.

Greys, of golden days, are relegated to myth.

My misted haze, youth, has settled in an abyss.

(C) Saili Katebe