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Monthly Archives: August 2016

Never Mind!

19 Friday Aug 2016

Posted by elainestirling in Poetry & Parody

≈ 5 Comments

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Canadian poet, Elaine Stirling, homage to Edgar Allen Poe, humourous verse, The Raven

seagull3

~~with thanks, once more, to E.A.P.

Once upon a midday sunny, while I pondered life as funny,
all those tiresome Facebook posts, from priceless to not worth a dime,
while I zoned out, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
an insistent, irksome rapping, “Yo, there, sister, don’t waste time!”
“Tis some bother,” I reflected, “yapping at my weary mind—
only this, so never mind.”

How distinctly I recall this, from the dog days of late August
when silhouettes of perspiration everywhere I left behind.
Eagerly I longed for breezes, dreamed in secret of deep freezes;
with each rolling bead of sweat I lost more vim than I could find.
Farewell, o vast intelligence! I miss you, sleek and noble mind.
Where’d you go? Oh, never mind…

Eventually I couldn’t stand it, listening to that rapping bandit
brandishing his random message, stabbing at my current languish.
I scraped my last of inspiration, dying gasps of motivation.
“I don’t know what you are up to, or by knocking hope to find.
Maybe like the rest of us, you seek relief from living blind
and dreading each new ‘never mind’.”

And so across that screen door peering, I imagined something leering,
scrolling through my vital data, calculating all that mattered,
feeding it to some vast modum, deleterious in motive.
All those things Orwell had warned us. One day, we’ll be in a bind,
trusting less, complaining louder, cursing future humankind—
But wait, just listen! Never mind.

Upon my thoughts there came a squawk, a flap of wings, I thought a hawk
had flown into my dark abode, but no, a different thing had taken hold.
It was a seagull white and gleaming, joking like a banshee screaming:
“Ding-dong, Avian calling!” The gull upon my laptop perched. “What a grind,
getting you to getting out of random people’s mixed-up minds.
You can call me Nevermind.”

I tried to shoo him, reason, threaten, offered proof of Armageddon.
Seagulls, though, you can’t offend them; independent, nothing bends them.
The more I tried to log on Facebook, read my texts or scan the news,
the more he shed and shat and screechéd; wingéd, feathered anti-muse.
“Give it up,” he finally said. “I’m here to get your ducks aligned.
It’s what I do. I’m Nevermind.”

Succumbed, I watched instead of media the gull pontificate
on all that’s tragic, gone and past, then, horror-struck, regurgitate.
I saw how quickly my poor head got stuffed with thoughts of ice cold dread,
which set me scrambling like a rat on drugs in a trial, double blind,
electrodes and thin tubes attached to drain me of my sickening whine.
That’s what I grasped from Nevermind.

The evenings, they grow cooler now. Most mornings start out fresh.
The squawks and chirps of friends and strangers I still read, but less
inclined am I to fashion a reply—or worry what they think of me,
since now I know we mostly don’t reach far outside ourselves. Kind
or silent, either one (and sometimes both) are way more fun, I find,
in keeping peace with Nevermind.

~~~

© Elaine Stirling, 2016

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Advice from Atlas, post-shrug

09 Tuesday Aug 2016

Posted by elainestirling in Uncategorized

≈ 2 Comments

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Canadian poet, Elaine Stirling, Malayan fixed verse, pantoum

atlas_29

~~a pantoum~~

I have flung off the weight of the wordless don’t
do that, they say, you’ll be unloved and sorry.
No one enjoys the ambitious, vainglorious—
and true self-esteem is a virtual meme.

Do that, they say, you’ll be unloved and sorry.
Failure’s the safer likelihood; it’s loyal
and true. Self-esteem is a virtual meme
people like, share and save, seldom mean.

Failure’s the safer likelihood; it’s loyal,
roomy with lots of dark places to hide
people like. Share and save! Seldom mean,
you could take the time to be kind or be quiet

and roomy with lots of dark places to hide.
No one enjoys the ambitious, vain. Glorious,
though, is the one who agrees to succeed!
I have flung off the weight of the wordless don’t.

~~~

© Elaine Stirling, 2016

In All Things, Calm

02 Tuesday Aug 2016

Posted by elainestirling in Poetry

≈ 2 Comments

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Canadian poet, Elaine Stirling, Shakespearean sonnet

benevolence

Benevolence, you are no stuttering fool.
You are the atmosphere of my content
in all things, like or not, you firmly rule
my pre-congesting state of life well spent.

How peacefully you bask while reflexes
of hate like wooden ducks on springs pop up,
rude opinions quacking at what vexes
overturn, duty-bound the loving cup—

—to spill. I like to think I multi-task
with nyet to this and yes to that, and yet
I sense you, bigger nesting doll: Relax!
What I believe, and more, I’m sure to get.

To see the best in all must, by degrees,
wed eloquence to certainty with ease.

~~~

© Elaine Stirling, 2016
The sketch inspired by the Kalevala comes
from http://www.deitiesanddemons.tumblr.com.

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