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Four-legged Rort

Four-legged Rort

To overcome the arrogance of thought
I must learn to draw what’s seen not known,
I must then, confront the four-legged rort
that would have my tables with all legs shown.
For as long as knowledge controls my hand
I am nothing more than a drafting pawn.
For as long as I am in thought’s command
my work will be crowded and over-drawn.
What my canvas captures is not complete:
it’s my view, my angle, my perspective;
it’s everything that needs to be, replete
with meaning, mine eyes have been selective.
. Beware the mindset, as would knowledge coax;
. of full-display, ’tis but a clever hoax.

© Tim Grace, 11 October 2012

To the reader: The conundrum of competing perspectives tickles our intellect. This we accept. In representational terms, there are plainly differences between what we see and what we know. Unhelpfully though, Shakespeare further adds an emotional dimension to our interpretative struggles. He reminds us that regardless of what makes intellectual sense our ‘heart’ speaks its own mind and through this prism creates a kaleidoscope of emotional confusions.

To the poet: “Is to know a hoax, a grand dilusion?” Certainty is no trusted companion; more like a fickle friend; an opportunist; an answer with no solution. The poet is forever tempted, for completeness sake, to achieve resolution; un-puzzle a proposition through clever wit. In poetry, and the visual arts, we learn to create a plausible perspective: true more than accurate, honest more than correct.

Four-legged Rort

Four-legged Rort

Chorus

Chorus

Through chorus, we express the universe:
as the single voice of a crowded thought;
as spontaneous chant without rehearse;
as the wisdom of mobs and witty retort.
Through chorus, our communal silk is spun:
as tapestries sewn of collective thread;
as blankets of comfort layered as one;
as patches of cloth on a quilted bed.
Through chorus, we conduct a life-long beat:
as rhythmic stimulants that resonate;
as echoes bouncing through dancing feet;
as musical moments that modulate.
. The frequency of life is harmonic
. Through chorus, we tune-in to its tonic.

© Tim Grace, 20 May 2012

To the reader: As a young child, of the 1960s, I grew up amidst a communal chorus; love was the word. Crammed into every three minute pop-song was a catchy refrain; a repeatable, memorable melody that bounced either side of a metrical verse. In that distant world the chorus was an invitation; a come together crescendo that united a generational voice. In full, the memory of a song fades; what’s left is the chorus.

To the poet: The fourteen lines of a sonnet easily convert into the simple pop-song formula of three verses (quatrains) and a repeatable chorus (from the final couplet). This sonnet tinkers with that relationship. Upon reflection, the result shows the difference between poetry and song-writing. A lyric needs room to lilt and requires very little internal strength. With too much internal strength melody struggles to sing.

Chorus

Chorus
Picture Source:
http://youtu.be/9eUowTV0ZFA