Pastiche Poems #1

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A pastiche, created in PRISMA, of a painting of my own of Venice

PASTICHE POETRY

Following on from my opening outline of Pastiche Poetry (see my blog yesterday titled ‘Pastiche Poetry’ ), here are some of my own efforts (you may call them concoctions or confections if you’d rather) which I have based on the well-known opening lines of six different poets  . . .

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‘Home Thoughts, From Abroad’, Robert Browning …

Oh to be in England
Now that April’s there; 
Whate’er the goddamn weather
It’s March I just can’t bear.


 

‘If’, Rudyard Kipling …

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
Then you’re a very special person
And I’m another bloody cockatoo.


 

‘This be The verse’, Philip Larkin …

They tuck you up your mum and dad,
Make sure you go to sleep, 
And then they get the cards out
While from you there’s not a peep.


 

‘Casablanca’, Felicia Dorothea Hemans …

The boy stood on the burning deck
Whence all but he had fled.
He couldn’t help but think ‘By heck! 
Those clods left me for dead.’


 

‘I wandered lonely as a cloud’, William Wordsworth …

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vale and hill,
When all at once I saw a shroud,
It made my very heart standstill.


 

‘The Lake Isle of Innisfree’, W.B.Yeats …

I will arise and go now
And go to Innisfree;
I need to meet my muse there,
Commune with Calliope.

 

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Impromptu

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Calliope-The Muse Of Epic Poetry

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The Creative Process

 

I sit here
Awaiting inspiration
Defeating anxiety
By not being anxious
Just as I defeat boredom
By acting oddly.
Poking my poised pen
Up my right nostril
Right side
– That’s my creative side –
Then
Humming ‘Ipsy Wipsy Spider’
To the tune of
‘Auld Lang Syne’.


Not that the procedure
Often produces a product
Concocts a concoction
Elicits the missing ending of
Kubla Khan
Finishes Schubert’s
Symphony No.8
Or Tolkien’s Tales Of Middle-earth


No. Definitely no!
Although
It has been known
To flick a switch
Ignite a spark
Connect two thoughts
To result in a third
of admirable content
Contenting Calliope,
Who, having prompted
My spirit of the moment,
Considers her job done
And promptly leaves.


Thus I return
To that stale and stagnant state
In which
I sit here
Awaiting further inspiration


That epiphany
That ever-absent
Eureka moment
In which
I compose my own
‘Paradise Regained’

 

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Creative Sparks

Pattern, Shape, Texture and Inspiration

BergenMotif 

Tell-a-tale Patterns on a wall
Shape and Texture all enthral

tell it all

I speak to myself
of myself

as I write
the blueprints of rules
should guide
not govern
flair and skill
for good or ill
let inspiration be found
in the scope
of my vision
natural occurrences
instances
of the imagination
mind’s saturation
sculpted by sea feather
weather-assisted
twisted
by time

Orkneys (22)

stones
worn and
moulded
bruised and folded
by the breeze
these
speak to me in telling verse
ideas diverse
intersperse
my thoughts
broaching themes
word streams
new memes

Oct04Calverly6

this tree
disguised
surprised
anthropomorphised
attributes
of patterned roots
suits my style
brindled
dappled
nature’s offshoots
veinlike
skein-like

elmgrovewall (6)

And then
the shortfall
inspiration stalls
until that wall
enthralls
recalls
my pitfalls
windfalls
then my palette
revives
thrives again
and in its archives
My muse is revived

Kentwell20

Thus
this new view
a breakthrough
the connective tissue
come to rescue
my mind-block’s
black box
and to resuscitate
my failing powers
of inventiveness

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meaningless
yet meaningful
but tension taut
and overwrought
linked by thought chains
succoured by mind games
built into high rise blocks
of language fodder
ever odder

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eroded
exploded
colour coded

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oil-spoiled
and rainbow-coated
wordless surface
followed now with purpose
and augmented clues from

(ThamesDitton-CrackInWallPlaster

such as this
plaster-disaster
a certain
crack in the curtain
a remix, fix
new tricks
new script suggested

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dream instances
silent witnesses
to my imagination’s
flights
those dizzy heights
of know-my-rights
endeavour
hinting at the next
text

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the creative process
to which I’ll succumb
and produce this
my next pennyless
poetic income

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Lanturnes
rictameter
diamonds and pyramids
drape
and shape
my poems
mechanical poetry
composed to formula
but adding
when it comes to the crunch
a knockout punch
not all about pattern
because convention
needs to be coloured
by considered thought
wrought
from life
wrenched
from strife
moulded
by meaning
seen and felt
through my muse’s lens
into gems
of terse
verse

elmgrovewall (2)

nothing worse
than the curse
of banality
pattern
controlled by reason
liberated by
inspiration
Calliope’s lifeblood

Nature’s example
Of how Creation
Life
Followed by Death
Followed by Re-birth
is accomplished

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© Photographs copyright – all by WHB in various locations – Orkneys, Argyll (Scotland), Devon, Essex, Surrey, Sussex (England),  Stavanger (Norway). 

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