After a lay off from the blog. And an industrious last few years working in central Bohemia. Buying a house, mowing my lawn and all kinds of other domestic drudgery.
I have just returned from a swimming trip up in Scotland. Bathing in the Glen Brittle Faerie pools on the isle of Skye. And in the river Etive near Glen coe.
And I have been writing a bit of poetry too.
This poem is a look at what happens when the oral tradition is replaced by the written and recorded.
See What You Think.
Oral tradition brought to line.
Structured into geometric angles and loops
looping on lines, rhythms and rhymes
from ages before, an archaic prosaic,
quickly forgotten time.
The storytellers art, quantified and objective.
Homogenised, examined and taken apart.
Re-combined into lingual score
re-construed into print. quickly tran- slated
as the franca-de-lingua power planes shift.
Easier to censor than tales told, soft by a fire.
Eyes all wide as outside, elements and oceans
battle and clash..
Wide eyes follow as lips, shifting ideas,
exposing morals tell of
Dragons hot teeth or
Lions with wings.
Allude to the weakness of Pharoes
the double standards of Kings.
Powers greatest weakness!
It's human crave for applause
ignore all the flaws and allow our media masters
to draw for us..
Our own simple conclusions
