Sunday, March 27, 2011
Too pertinent
Our Holy Father could be speaking directly to me with this item. Doing the math, either my wife or I was out of the house every night this week. It's terrible but hard to stop with our many and sundry activities and it keeps us from our deepest mission which we believe is to be social and have families over for dinners and parties and random hanging out. There is a huge dearth of social capital that has been brought about through TV and Entertainment destroying social bonds and through the home becoming a place to stop and refuel and sleep before running to meetings and games and events. We feel it is critical to be home-bodies and build ties of affection but that is a daunting task in this day of constant connection.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Metre Traitor
Never, thought I, will I betray
the rhyme and rhythm of my day.
Learned in my first class of grammar
I would smash poetic traitors with a mighty hammer
and crush all in a manner of Thor
‘til they would rhyme forevermore.
And lo’ upon this aged time
I picked up a classic book of rhyme
a slim tome of Canterbury Tales
at the close of winter, to warm my entrails.
written long ago by wizened Chaucer,
who may have drunk his tea from a saucer,
I discovered that rhyme, though classically executed,
can still be a horror worse than a sky polluted.
English being a poor language to rhyme in
with phrases adjusted, as if the time in
English grammar was for naught, since
all the words seem to do is mince
across the page and carry
onward and do tarry
taking an inordinate amount of space and time
to complete what should be a shortened rhyme
slave to a meter and a rhyming pattern which
I though older and modern, am unable to ditch.
the rhyme and rhythm of my day.
Learned in my first class of grammar
I would smash poetic traitors with a mighty hammer
and crush all in a manner of Thor
‘til they would rhyme forevermore.
And lo’ upon this aged time
I picked up a classic book of rhyme
a slim tome of Canterbury Tales
at the close of winter, to warm my entrails.
written long ago by wizened Chaucer,
who may have drunk his tea from a saucer,
I discovered that rhyme, though classically executed,
can still be a horror worse than a sky polluted.
English being a poor language to rhyme in
with phrases adjusted, as if the time in
English grammar was for naught, since
all the words seem to do is mince
across the page and carry
onward and do tarry
taking an inordinate amount of space and time
to complete what should be a shortened rhyme
slave to a meter and a rhyming pattern which
I though older and modern, am unable to ditch.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Cognitive Dissonance
I thought that the scandal had already come as close as it could to my life. With this announcement, it comes even closer. I am familiar with at least one of the accused. I am saddened and confused and somewhat ambivalent depending on the current train of my thought.
I pray for the victims and the accused and any who are wrongly accused. I pray for the cases, that the truth may come out and just resolution accorded.
I pray for the victims and the accused and any who are wrongly accused. I pray for the cases, that the truth may come out and just resolution accorded.
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