One More Sonnet

Tag: lyrics

  • In Loose Contort

    In Loose Contort

    From that which lies about us we construct
    plausible solutions; scenarios
    that help explain what life, by chance, has plucked
    as this day’s harvest of ripe curios:
    people, events, time and place alongside
    those artefacts, those things that decorate
    this impromptu muddle; unqualified
    mess – by chance an entanglement of state.
    What lies about us is about us strewn.
    A momentary arrangement that becomes
    itself revealed as a glimpse; and so soon
    becomes the fresh source of infinite sums.
    . We are in pieces, patched together, wrought
    . of all things about us; in loose contort.

    © Tim Grace, 14 January 2014

    To the reader: I’m a constructivist; intrigued as I watch organic plasticity contend with constant adaptation to non-organic obstacles. Without adaptive agility, existence is a fragile and brittle proposition. At the centre of my own survival guide is a stoic statement of resilience: things change and people adapt. Every heart-beat, every breath, is designed to extend or improve engagement with time and place.

    To the poet: Poetry and fluid mechanics have a lot in common. Both seek to understand and/or harness the nature of flow. Fluids, just like poems, derive their character from internal and external forces that influence their dynamic state. The 1960’s hit-song ‘Poetry in Motion’ is a great example of syllabically static lyrics interacting to create the effect of a constantly rolling wave.

    In Loose Contort
    In Loose Contort
    Picture Source:
    http://youtu.be/EjjMH_PdCvI
  • Renovated Dream

    Renovated Dream

    I’m living in a renovated dream.
    Walls come tumbling down before my eyes.
    Rose-coloured glasses wash away the theme
    of ‘tangerine trees and marmalade skies’.
    Gone is the porter, that plasticine man.
    Gone from his station of gainful employ.
    Gone is the dog-mouse with rice-paper plan.
    So too the drummer, that blue-eyed boy.
    Gone are those characters, lucid and bright.
    Gone with the pictures on ‘green-pepper walls’
    with ‘everything emptying into white…’
    Gone from my reaching; ignoring my calls.
    . I’m living in a renovated dream.
    . Devoid of pattern, of colour and scheme.

    © Tim Grace, 9 July 2013

    To the reader: Through my teenage years I was drawn to lyrics that conjured-up slightly distorted visual images. Masters of the art (John Lennon, Cat Stevens, etc.) wrote convincingly between believable and plausible lines; avoiding a shift onto tracks of complete nonsense. As in vector-distortions the original image is never lost, simply stretched to entice attention. As in camouflage, clever-mimicry replaces the truth. As in this sonnet I’m living in a renovated dream…what is that?

    To the poet: In some forms of deception the skilled-expert successfully arrests disbelief. The magician, the con-man and the poet all use the same ploy of managing expectation. Within bounds, an audience will allow a degree of contrived replacement. As long as the augmentation doesn’t break too many rules that contortion (otherwise that mistake) is overlooked; enjoyed as different.

    Renovated Dream Renovated Dream
    Picture Sources:
    1. http://youtu.be/YSq270lUuZE
    2. http://youtu.be/kea0ghm7Z4E