Relativity-III

 
Relativity-III
 
When we’re young, the years go slowly,
So it seems, but when we age,
They seem to go by faster,
Till they’re flying by at speed.
 
We find we cannot slow them,
Though we mutter, wail and rage.
We fear they will not slacken—
Till we’re dead and gone indeed.

But then, as death approaches,
The days appear to slow,
As we wish that they would hasten,
As we’re eager then to go.

So it seems that time’s a torture
That’s devised, like all the rest,
To be, with us, impatient—
Yet all our patience test.
 
2016 August 23rd, Tue.
Brooklyn, New York
-----------------------------

Note: Below are links to two distant relatives of Relativity-III:
 
1) Relativity-II (Jo`e Bangla)
    http://thedailypoet.blogspot.com/2014/03/relativity-ii-joe-bangla.html
  
2) Relativity
    http://thedailypoet.blogspot.com/2014/01/relativity.html 
     

Congress

 
Congress

A congress that is sexual can be wonderful indeed.
So those who represent us might consider “having sex”,
as the newer generation so dismally now says it,
to receive that inspiration that no lobbyist can give.
And if by chance caresses lead to feelings, surely then
our Congress will be better, though it’s mostly made of men.

And if there is an afterglow, in which unreason flees
as mind and head connect again, there might perhaps be hope
that all of the conventions and the pressures fall away,
and the Capitol, deserted as the Congress is at play,
might function as intended by the best in slavers yet,
when the Congressmen, returning, find they’re reading every line
and voting with a conscience—and a vision cleared by sex.

2016 August 23rd, Tue.
Brooklyn, New York

  

The Green Balloon

  

The Green Balloon

  

A green balloon had fallen to the ground.

Its color glowed as the daylight changed and ebbed.
  

Its string was sticking to the rain-wet road.

With every little breeze, it seemed to fight

to free itself—to fly beneath the vault  

of rain clouds racing in the somber sky.

  

On looking at that green balloon, I felt—

There lies a one that’s much like you and I.
  

2016 August 21, Sun

Brooklyn, New York

The Gibbous Moon

an image posted by A.K. Entingh

Dear reader,

I have fallen increasingly into the habit of adding images, captions and notes to my posts of poems.  I realize that these things might be distracting or burdensome, and I apologize for this.

In my limited experience, the words and lines of a poem only convey their full meaning on being read with full attention.  For all but the best of poems, this does not occur spontaneously.  Some sustained effort is needed.
 
One has to clear one's mental clutter and also not hurry through. The entire poem usually needs to be read through at least twice, in a somewhat meditative mode of mind.

Nowadays, for most of us, this is contrary to our usual mode of reading, especially when looking at a screen. Given the times we live in, this is understandable.

Some of us are also struggling to survive. We each have to try to cope with not only our routine duties and responsibilities but also the vagaries and blows of fortune. This can be overwhelming.

So an e-mailed link to a post on a poetry blog might not be the best of pairings.  Adding yet more distractions could be very unwise.

Images might at times enhance the experience of reading a poem, but extraneous textual material, acting like noise, often detracts from it.  Much more than in prose, the mood or flow is interrupted.

Of course, there is occasionally a need for a preface or for footnotes, but these need to be separated from the experience of reading the poem.

For those who have the patience for a second reading, that could be done while ignoring the notes at the end.  Alternatively, one might skip the notes at the first reading, or simply never read them—as I am sure many might do, even without my prompting.

I am finding it difficult to break free of this habit of adding images, captions and notes.

Meanwhile, if this extra clutter (added to the clutter of the verses and that of my e-mails in your inbox) perturbs you, I am sorry.

All of that being said, notes 1 and 2 should be read by those wanting a better view of the images, while notes 3 and 4 should be read by those interested in basic astronomy—who might also wish to correct any errors I might have made in note 3.

-- Arjun
------------------------------

The Gibbous Moon
 

Waxing gibbous moon with clouds.  A.K. Entingh http://photo.accuweather.com/photogallery/details/photo/134438/

I saw, tonight, the clouds on high
were drifting past the moon,
whose light they shaded with their streams
of hazy white and dark.

But as I looked, the sky grew clear.
The moon now floated free.
And I stood there, transfixed by light
reflected down to me.

I figured, from the gibbous shape
that pointed to the west,
where it might lie—that sun that lit
this moon that lovers seek.

How sweet that light, reflected in
the eyes of one you love.
How lonely then that moon appears,
when those you love are gone.

Moon and storm clouds, Bensonhurst Park, Brooklyn, 2016-08-15.  © A. Janah

We're born to live awhile and die,
as others have before.
The moon sails in and out of clouds
and sees us come and go.
 
How long this moon has circled Earth—
how many eons through—
we do not know.  But it has seen
more things than I and you.

And some might say, "It cannot see."
And they may well be right.
No witness to our follies then—
as wolves look up and howl.

I saw tonight a gibbous moon
that still will wax a while.
And when that moon is full I'll look
at it with shining eyes.

 

Full moon above clouds and hills.  author unknown
http://d2dc8ug9yu03zt.cloudfront.net/images/22760/full-moon-moon-22778640-1024-768.jpg

2016 August 16th, Tue
Brooklyn, New York
------------------------------

Bensonhurst Park after midnight, 2016-08-15.  © A. Janah

Bensonhurst Park after midnight, 2016-08-15—wide view.  © A. Janah
The path on the right leads towards the Bay Parkway and Belt Parkway exit.

Gables, windows, clouds and moon. 19th Ave, Bensonhurst, 2016-08-15.   © A. Janah

Notes:
  
1. To see the images in this post in a somewhat larger and clearer format, single-click on any one image.  Then use your keyboard's right and left arrow keys, or click on the thumbnails, to see each image in turn. To return to this post, click on the large white X near the top right of the dark background.  Pressing the escape (esc) key might also return you to this post.
------------------------------
    
2.  For an even better view of the images, go also to full-screen view. In most web-browsers on a PC, the F11 key can be used to toggle in and out of full-screen view.

The photographs taken by me are not the best. I am still struggling with the smartphone, including even with 'phone calls.

But I have included a black and white photograph (the third image: Full moon above clouds and hills) that is beautiful. I could not trace the photographer.

There is also a nice color photograph of the moon, with clouds in the foreground. This is the first image, which is repeated, with the second occurrence captioned: Waxing gibbous moon with clouds. 

This shows the moon in one if its two gibbous phases.  I found it, posted by A.T. Entingh, at a site on accuweather.com.  A.T. Entingh has a photography site (which I found once, but then could not find again), which says she is interested in weather photography. So the photograph was probably taken by her—although this image was not on that site.
------------------------------
    
3. The term "gibbous", as applied to the moon, refers to the shape of its lit surface, as observed by us, when more than half of the circle is lit, but not the full circle. The common names for the phases of the moon are "new" (completely dark and so invisible), "crescent", "quarter" (half the circle lit), "gibbous" and "full".

If, for a crescent, quarter or gibbous moon, the western side of the moon is lit, then the moon is waxing: the lit area will be growing larger each night, until full moon.  If the eastern side of the moon is lit, then it is waning: the lit area will be growing smaller each night, until it disappears at new moon.

That, at least, is how I figure it, noting that the moon revolves "monthly" around the Earth, in the same direction as the Earth rotates daily about its north-south axis—from west to east.

Do correct me if I am wrong.

The moon's orbital plane is tilted with respect to the Earth's equatorial plane. The angle of this tilt varies cyclically, over the years, from about 18 degrees to about 29 degrees. 

If you live north of the 30th parallel of latitude, then you should be able to see the moon (between moon-rise and moon-set) when facing south. The western side of the moon will then be on your right.
------------------------------
    
4. The first image is repeated in two sizes. That will only be apparent on viewing the images as explained in notes 1 and 2 above.

The photograph for the second image (Moon and storm clouds, Bensonhurst Park) was taken, shortly after midnight, at the start of Monday, 15th August. 

The moon's phase was then waxing gibbous. But the bright flare in the photograph hid the gibbous shape.  The three lights in a horizontal line in the clouds were not from 'planes or UFO's.  They are artifacts of the cellphone's camera.

The final image (Gables, windows, clouds and moon) was taken the next night, around 10 pm on Monday, 15th August. 
 

The phase of the moon was then still waxing gibbous—with the full moon being due on Thursday, 18th August. At the time of the photograph, only a bit of the moon was not obscured by dark clouds. Again, in the photograph, the light flare around that bright bit rounded out its shape..
------------------------------
     
5. Chronological details:
  
-a) composed stanzas 1 to 4 and 6:
2016 August 15th, Mon, late at night, while walking, with the moon as companion, from the crossing at 19th & Cropsey Avenues to Bensonhurst Park (near Bay Parkway and Cropsey Avenue) and then around the circular path there
  
-b) wrote those stanzas:
sitting on a bench in the park
  
-c) added stanzas 5, 7 and 8:
August 16th, Tue, at our apartment in Bensonhurst, Brooklyn
  

Morning in Berea

Note: To see the images in this post in a somewhat larger and clearer format, please single-click on any one image. Then use either your keyboard's right and left arrow keys or click on the thumbnails to view the other images in turn. Captions will not be visible.

To return to this post and read the captions and text, please  click on the white X near the top right of the dark background.  Pressing the Esc (escape) key might also return you to this post.
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P.S.  I will search for the credits and links to the images that are currently missing those, and add them later.

Note that the images after the end of the verses and in the notes that follow are not directly related to Berea or Kentucky. They are related, instead, to a phrase (Crees and Cajuns) and a word (Appalachians) used in the verses.
----------------------------------------------

Morning in Berea

Morning in Berea, Kentucky
https://www.instagram.com/p/BIZ56GZhHSX/

Ah mountains, I have dreamed of ye,

that rose like isles from a feathered sea.

The distance clad your waves in blue,

and nearer ye were green in hue.

And when the mists rose up at morn,

that soul that now is mine was born

that keeps that treasure, in its heart,

revealed by sun and nature's art.

  

Those mountains, in my dreams, I see,
that rose like isles from a cloudy sea.
The distance draped their waves in blue,
and  nearer they were green in hue.

------------------------------------------------------------

To Cecil, Deborah and Sharla I say,

"My thanks for the 'likes' that you gave me today,

  but Cecil had posted those mountains of blue—

and writing my verses was all I could do."
   

******

Early winter sky, Newfound Gap Road, by Kristina Plaas
Great Smoky Mountains National Park
Sing to Me        ভোরের আশার গান

Morning Glory, Haywood County North Carolina
http://vacationorholiday.blogspot.com/2009/03/north-carolina.html

Noah (Bud) Ogle Homeplace, built late 1880's, Roaring Fork Motor Trail,
Great Smoky Mountains, by L.D. Coffey
LD Coffey Pics     https://www.facebook.com/ldcoffeypics

View from Blue Ridge Parkway, autumn

So I thank you all kindly for the “likes” for the verse,

though my use of the "ye" made it worse. 

I have tried to rewrite it, so the gods will not smite it,

as I'm stuck with the scrivener's curse.

For the lines that I scribble--they often are drivel,

but at times they have sound and have sense.

So I'll scribble my drivel, but then I will quibble,

and erase and rewrite what I'd scribbled.

The lines that I write are written despite

what my reason might tell me is right,

for Ms. Muse is dictating, and I merely am writing,

and often not hearing her right.

But then she will tap me and gently correct me

or give me a slap and a scold.

And then I will grumble—but slowly or swiftly

I'll do as Ms. Muse might direct me.

******
  

When Cecil posts pictures of the blue Appalachians,

or those of ancestors of Crees or of Cajuns,

I feel in my heart then a singing and so

I type then that song as my drivel and go.

  

2016 August 6th, Sat.

Brooklyn, New York

Cree encampment

Cree boatwomen
http://usclibstore.usc.edu/Edward-Sheriff-Curtis/The-North-American-Indian-V-18

Cree couple in front of tepee (tipi)

Souwangesheick and his squaws, Cree Indians

Cree man
http://usclibstore.usc.edu/Edward-Sheriff-Curtis/The-North-American-Indian-V-18

Cree woman

Cree man

Cajun house and a tree, by Floyd Sonnier
https://www.floydsonnier.com/

Cajun cafe and a tree, by Floyd Sonnier
https://www.floydsonnier.com/

Back porch waltz, by Floyd Sonnier
https://www.floydsonnier.com/

La Boucherie Des Cajuns (the Cajuns' butcher shop/meat cooking?), by Floyd Sonnier
https://www.floydsonnier.com/

Cajun boy and girl in Mobile County, Alabama

James Carville, canny and vocal political consultant,
known as "the Ragin' Cajun".  He is from Louisiana, as
is quite evident from his speech, but  he may not be of
Cajun descent.

Acadian to Cajun

http://www.medschool.lsuhsc.edu/genetics_center/louisiana/article_cajunhistory.htm

----------------------------------------------

Notes on "Morning in Berea"

 

A) Connection to Berea, Kentucky
  

Mu Facebook friend Cecil has been living in Kentucky for a very long time.  I had first "met" him on Facebook via a cousin of mine, who had also been in Kentucky for a while, during and after her college years. She had followed another cousin to college in Berea, in eastern Kentucky (part of Appalachia).  She had subsequently lived for some years, deep in the wooded hills of Kentucky, in an isolated cottage not reachable then by road.  She had bravely lived there--without modern utilities and conveniences, while still enjoying the wilds.

Of course, other than the pictures of the mountains and some references to them in the verses, those who have actually lived in Berea or other parts of Kentucky might find little in this post that relates to their lives and experiences there.

Do feel free to add these and other things and thoughts in the comments, at the end of the post.
 
-- Arjun
------------------------

B) Context for the verses

I was a latecomer to Facebook, but I have been spending a bit too much time on it lately--mostly "sharing" posts that I think merit this for various reasons, and also commenting on some posts, occasionally lapsing into verse in my comments.

Cecil had recently posted a picture of blue-green mountains, rising from the mist, taken in Berea, Kentucky.  Seeing it, I wrote the first two stanzas above--as a comment to his Facebook post. Subsequently, I added a third stanza, which was a repeat of the first, but with the archaic "ye" replaced.

Soon after, I wrote, in a follow-up comment,  some rhymed notes of thanks to Cecil and to some others who had read the verses and "liked" them on Facebook.  I also apologized for my acquired habit of fussing over my verses--by revisiting them and trying to "fix" them.

I have now combined those two versified Facebook comments and and have posted them together, here (above) at the Daily Poet blog, as "Morning in Berea". 

    

I  have included, at the start of the verses, that photograph of the mountains, taken from Berea, that Cecil had posted on Facebook. I have also added, after that, some more images from the Appalachians as well as some images pertaining to Amerindians. Both of these are often the subject of Cecil's Facebook posts.
------------------------
   
C) Crees and Cajuns

I should note, however, that neither the Crees nor the Cajuns, whose faces, figures and dwellings are pictured here, were residents of the Applachians at the times of the photographs and sketches.  The Cree happen to be one of the largest surviving Amerindian tribes. They were found, in historical times, to be mainly living in the region from Lake Superior westwards. But most of the survivors are now stretched over Canada, with some Crees still left in Montana.

The Cajuns are mainly of "mixed blood"--as are we all, come to think of it. So it might not be correct to refer to them as "Amerindians." Indeed, they are mostly descended from French and other European settlers in Acadia, a French colony in northeastern North America, which later became part of eastern Canada and northern Maine (the most northeastern U.S. state).

The Acadians, who were mainly Catholics, faced persecution, imprisonment and deportation after British victories in the northeast.  Many fled south to Louisiana--at that time a Spanish colony.  Both while in Acadia and after resettling in Louisiana,  they intermarried with local Amerindians and others. Their common speech used to be, until quite recently, a distinct form of French.

But anyone who has tasted Cajun cuisine will note the influence of Amerindians and also perhaps of Africans.
------------------------

D) Appalachians and Appalachia

I have used the term "Appalachians" here as shorthand for the "Appalachian Mountains".  The main spine of these mountains begins in eastern Canada.  It then runs roughly southwest along much of the eastern U.S., mostly parallel to the Atlantic coastline, and ends in the southeastern U.S. state of Alabama.

Long ago, when these mountains were younger, they were as high as the Rockies are now.  Over the eons, they have been weathered down to their current much lower heights.

The main spine of the Appalachian Mountains
http://nowiknow.com/the-mystery-of-the-appalachian-bend/

Great Appalachian Valley
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Appalachian_Mountains

The term "Appalachian" may also be used to refer to a resident of Appalachia--a hilly region, with some distinct cultures, that spans part of the Appalachian mountain chain and runs from New York State through western parts of most of the mid-Atlantic states to areas in the Carolinas, Georgia, Alabama and Mississippi.  All of West Virginia is in Appalachia. The eastern parts of  Ohio, Kentucky and Tennessee lie in the western section of this region.

  

Appalachian region of the United States
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Appalachia

   

Home

Home

You cannot take the city or the farm
from him or her who had been reared in one.
And those remaining in the forests or
the deserts or the mountains or the ice
have need of these to keep their beings whole.
But I have town and village in my soul.

Give me the city and the countryside—
the honking cars and blessed quietude,
the sunless toilets and the fragrant trees,
the towers and the open fields and sky—
and set these things, so contrary, beside
each other, as the breath drawn in and out,
and I will be content, between the two,
to live awhile—and then, in peace, to die.

******

Within a bustling city, I was born,
and in the cities I have worked and lived,
yet only when my soles had touched the earth
and when, in turn, the waters and the sky
had touched my soul, and villagers my heart,
could I perceive that I was home at last.

The city’s spawn may sneer at small-town folk,
as these in turn look down on villagers.
And peasants too may view as primitives
the ones who live in forests or in hills.
But I have dodged the city’s traffic and
have slowly walked on winding forest paths.
I’ve heard the city’s roar, been hardened—sinned,
then gentled, cleansed, by water and by wind.

******
 
Some tribal folk maintained unbroken lines
of culture, through the ages, even though
the empires, rising later, came and went.
They might appear as “simple”, yet they know
the precious things that we have sadly lost.
New empires rise—and beings pay the cost.

From teachers in the city’s schools, I learned,
and from the books in libraries and stores,
but just as much—perhaps, in essence, more—
I gleaned from kindly folk with rustic roots.
Our cities’ schools and books have been, at best,
an overlay on what was there before.
So though we post things on the Internet,
there’s still no substitute for local lore.
 
******

In Beijing’s narrow lanes, the rickshaws ply
and those who pedal greet the ones who sit
in summer evenings on those darkened streets.
But in Shanghai the lanes of traffic flow,
as advertisements shine from towers of glass,
and few are asking, “Where did China go?”

The traffic and the crowds and all the rest,
the canyons of the city, libraries,
the silent alleys at the end of day,
the coffee shops where poets still may meet—
these all are part of me, and yet there is
that treasure of the past that’s precious too—
that  place, where all the faces there were known—
that village which, for humans, was their home.
 
strophes 1-3, on a bus in Beijing, July 8th, Fri.
strophe 4, on a plane from Beijing to Shanghai, July 9th, Sat. 
strophes 5-6, on a bus nearing Nanjing, July 9th, Sat.
strophes 7-8, in our apartment in Brooklyn, July 31st, Sun.
   

On Ignorance and Apathy

On Ignorance and Apathy
  

https://empathological.wordpress.com/2012/03/17/emotion-and-ignorance-and-anedotal-correlation/

Ah Ignorance, how sweet you taste!
It's said that you are bliss.
And Apathy, I sing you to you,
Though others boo and hiss.

We go to school and even go
To college, yet we are
As ignorant as one could be,
In matters such as war.

And truly, what can people know
Except the things they see?
So who knows what has happened in
A place across the sea?

And even in our cities, we
Now live secluded lives.
We're ignorant of what goes on
Within our busy hives.

We go to work, in offices,
But there, because we're busy,
We do not know what others do,
Unless we're types who're nosy.

And when we hear a worker is
In trouble, then we shun
That person—as, from insects, we
Now see our children run.

And as for other neighborhoods
Or regions far away—
We do not know. How can we know
Of such things, could you say?

******

I read, at work, the NY Post.
I’ve heard it’s Murdoch’s own.
I get my news from it, my friend.
The rest, I now disown.

The workers in the factories
Are surely useless bums.
They're lazy, like the migrants who
Now crowd the city's slums.

The workers in the government,
The teachers in the schools—
They’re feeding on our taxes and
They’re lazy, worthless fools.

And as for all those Hindus and
Those Muslims, Christians, Jews—
They're all a bunch of murderers,
According to the news.

And atheists? And socialists?
Do spare me those, my friend!
It's better that we're rid of those.
Let's pray their lives will end.

The world is full of primitives—
Not advanced, like you and me.
The others, they are jealous, so
We cannot let them be.

It's better that we take the wars
To them, than they to us.
The peaceniks, they are full of s**t.
To hell with all their fuss!

http://www.differencebetween.net/miscellaneous/difference-between-ignorance-and-apathy/

We're doing well, we're doing well—
With gizmos, buildings tall…
This business about nature, well—
You're welcome to it all.

For might is right. That's how it is.
This world is ours to use.
It says so in our holy books.
To listen, we refuse!

The species rise, the species die.
And so it always is.
So if we’re killing more, why that
Is just the way it is.

We need resources, so to hell
With primitives resisting.
It’s time they got more civilized.
What’s obsolete, needs fixing.

The forests must be cleared. With tribes
And critters, they’re infested.
In timber and in mines, my friend,
It’s time you were invested.

I’ve heard that water now is hot.
Privatization, yay!
The world can’t run on rum and Coke.
It now is water’s day.

And climate change? Organic food?
The ocean turning acid?
They’re hoaxes!  So invest in Shell
And BP and Monsanto.

*******

It's all a fake—a ruse, you see,
To make us number two.
But we are number one, my friend.
And that is me and you.

And some may raise, at intervals,
An issue out of history.
But since we weren't there, the truth
Remains, for us, a mystery.

We went to school and learned that we
Have built a land of glory.
So what if, as they say, the start
Of this was rather gory?

Let whiners whine. It’s onward, ho!
See other countries learning!
So what, if there’s a bit of smog
And forests razed or burning?

Ah ignorance, how sweet you taste!
And apathy?  Why that
Is what you need, or else this world
Will leave you knocked out flat.

We’re all conditioned to believe
And to behave by those
Who flood us with their ads and more.
But now, it's time to close.

And if you find I've contradicted
Everything I've said,
It's all because I'm ignorant
And will be, till I'm dead.

2016 July 26th, Tue.
Brooklyn, New York