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Ode to Poet John Keats (1795 - 1821) " Beauty is truth, truth beauty,' -- that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know"* Too soon a young and gifted poet died but left behind his love for symmetry. His sonnet, ode and classic epic cried with vivid color, tone, in harmony. Appealing to our senses, sight and sound an ancient Grecian Urn he paints in Ode, a Cricket's song in English Sonnet frame. A Nightingale in measured verse is crowned and through his Melancholy he bestowed to us a truth in beauty to proclaim. ~~~Judi Van Gorder *from Ode on a Grecian Urn by John Keats
Interference (an Ode) "... our proper place is on the mainland of doing." The Existential Pleasures of Engineering, S. Florman "No word in my vocabulary could express greater hatred than Interference... a transcendental Interferer." Surprised by Joy, C.S. Lewis The mainland of doing: it sounds right, the place we all concern ourselves with, when it comes to it. Whatever misted river mouths, atolls, or sun-bright archipelagoes intuit collective or single transcendence, this is where I find myself most often moored, awake to conflicts though positive in my logic, blind to fiend or ally in the sky. Even here I can't force views to resolution, stake my bets on weights and measures, facts revised as they are gathered. I strive for whites and blacks, attempt twin grails of certainty and completeness. It's all been tried before. Spinoza hacks the Elements of Euclid, hoping to tease bared beauty into truth. Aquinas shines The Metaphysics onto Paul, prime mover yet unmoved. Each narrative finds paradox tracing new veins in Heisenberg's temple. Signs mark interference patterns at the verge of repeatable outcome. Measure what's there and is not. Cloud banks and planetary rings reveal themselves by what does not get through. Circuits imagine hurricane's dervish arms to the pixel according to what is absorbed or reflected. It's the inside-out of detection: occultation; scatter; absence made epiphany; conflict enacting self-invented order. History unveils its guided intention in what the victors suppress as much as by their writings. Opacity defines our borders. And spoilers abound. Interferers great and small derail each feat which seems to range extremes of magnitude from washing plates to space missions, an agency of wrong endemic to each enterprise. Equipment exhibits hum and crosstalk, crazing, pinch point and purple plague, stress corrosion, bug, gremlins, glitches, daemons: evident some incompatibility or joint objective in collision. Or just bad luck. Look at space missions: start with statement of need, objectives; proceed to nail the operations concept, constraints, a few specifics, key parameters - instantly there are channel and station commitments, agencies with signal strength and bandwidth limits, protocols. It goes downhill from there. Each discipline then marshals best practice, expertise, a regiment of method sure to clash another's close held standards. All solutions realized are partial. Proximity breeds interference. Descend thought's diving bell to where conductors bundle and sprawl like a culture in miniature, contend their individual voices amid the rumble of machines rotating remote to the drama moved. Transform enabling power's peculiar angst. Pluck signals from the thrumming. Isolate. Disrupt return paths masking message. Narrow loops to thwart extraneous coupling amongst those varied assertions till squiggles emerge, dilate in aggregate clarity to mission's compass. Then come dry runs, scrubs, and countdowns, launch announcing the trial of flight, separations, arrays deployed to capture sun and downlink. Stopwatch precision anticipates auroras, plasma sheets erupting from the poles. Each orbit discovers South Atlantic Anomaly's irradiant surge, pepper of cosmic ray through fragile memory. Improbably, bits come through like the stuttering tongue of Demosthenes. Perhaps this is the labor's secret glory though performed for the purpose of others. Outlast. Engineer the questioner's wakened proxy among atoms and the void, celestial blasts: detect and designate Earth's rocket plumes according to their duties; image and sound the Cat 5 for wind speed, breadth, and depth of surge, cueing alerts from the coastlines; profile moons' acetylene lakes or jets of ice unbound to streak across the hexagon pole of Saturn. I sometimes dream up missions of my own fined-tuned to inform noumena of my choosing. Expense no object, only to match each probe its target phenomena. Through interposing time and distance, span of existence, how breach veils predating pagan myth emplaced like slabs between the measure and understanding? Apprising limits inherent to the prow of detection tasked uncharted arid waste or toxic vapors, architect the pending surrogate: surrendered drone, or free flying navigator. Dare consequence and edge the limits of autonomy. Innovate. Endow genetic controls, inference, self-healing assemblies, neural nets. Implant random walks and registers, paradox handlers agnostic of outcome. As data read out in prayer bead staccato, decant the pure confession as truth. Monitor. Log what is broken or pained. Tally the charges of need. How to ask if need drives the framing of worlds? Perhaps the ghost of it haunts like hum in tradition and writ, our own limbic fires, operators; transcendence moving with Jehovah volition on laborer, craftsman, self-deposing prince. Could seven of forty days disclose constraints derived from creation? What is implied: sequence? Or iteration? Could even omnipotence resuming our conflicted self-healing domains not break on its own shore of benevolence? Place incarnation in the wilderness of us, drift of plates rupturing at our fault lines. Withdraw. Here the isolate ghost quickens naked from birth to the scatter of signs and roads that channel our brief congregate coming and sunder. At what point does experience part shared atlas to its own bearing and faculty? Inexpert, the rest of us seek more mundane working, partial solutions, touching the hem of standard injustices: conflict, choice, feasibility, chance. It feels like injustice. Belonging and not belonging, being and not: my private versions of paradox pre-Gödel, lacking the comfort of proof. Accept it as mission? Thrive interference, divide among my sources. Assimilate cleft singularities of miracle and failure, emergence of fact. Wade rivers of smoke deliberate, defiant. Separate cleanly my comforts: love, trust, discovery. Call it contentment. Say I surrendered. Wondered. Woke. previously unpublished © 2016 David W. Parsley Parsley Poetry Collection
SUCH COUNTRY AS THE LOVERS OWN Such country as the lovers choose is no tract for any but the saintly: there, a wired fence goes down at the end of a graveled road – each path thereafter, deer track, bear trail, boundaries set by the stone and weed as the reader discerns, butte-sites where the lovers come down in silence, smallness of world held pendulum-like between them. Such talk as stills there is not lost, but given place: a gap they could close with lips that kiss. Or pray. In such country as the lovers own, skies hover in the way of storms, clouds the solitary fowl cross in search of what must fall there: whether in parks or groves, secret dens – the small acts born of privacy. The storm begins and ends here: car's quiet throb in the dark; breath of cheek reading shoulder; touch of her tranquil breast against his side; cold flakes touching the hood like tips of arrows. Every word he spends on that cheek, true. L. Paul Roberts Poetry Foundation winner, 1981 © David W. Parsley, 2011 Parsley Poetry Collection
Explore the Craft of Writing Poetry The Ode English Verse The Keatsian or English Ode is a stanzaic form which appears to be the result of John Keats' experimentation with the sonnet. It reflects a merging of the Sicilian quatrain and Italian sestet from the same-named sonnets. In theme, purpose and sincerity it follows that of all Odes. The Keatsian Ode differs from the Horatian Ode in that its structure of line and stanza is a set pattern of meter, rhyme and length, while the Horatian Ode's is "nonce" stanzaic, the structure patterned is at the discretion of the poet. The elements of the Keatsian or English Ode are: metered, accentual syllabic verse, primarily in iambic pentameter. In exception, Ode to a Nightingale written with L8 of each stanza in trimeter. stanzaic, composed in 10 line stanzas. Usually written with between 3 and 8 stanzas. rhymed. This strict version of the ode stanza combines a Sicilian quatrain (rhyme abab) with the Italian sestet (rhyme cdecde). tranquil or contemplative. Ode on Melancholy No, no, go not to Lethe, neither twist Wolf's-bane, tight-rooted, for its poisonous wine; Nor suffer thy pale forehead to be kiss'd By nightshade, ruby grape of Proserpine; Make not your rosary of yew-berries, Nor let the beetle, nor the death-moth be Your mournful Psyche, nor the downy owl A partner in your sorrow's mysteries; For shade to shade will come too drowsily, And drown the wakeful anguish of the soul. But when the melancholy fit shall fall Sudden from heaven like a weeping cloud, That fosters the droop-headed flowers all, And hides the green hill in an April shroud; Then glut thy sorrow on a morning rose, Or on the rainbow of the salt sand-wave, Or on the wealth of globed peonies; Or if thy mistress some rich anger shows, Emprison her soft hand, and let her rave, And feed deep, deep upon her peerless eyes. She dwells with Beauty—Beauty that must die; And Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips Bidding adieu; and aching Pleasure nigh, Turning to poison while the bee-mouth sips: Ay, in the very temple of Delight Veil'd Melancholy has her sovran shrine, Though seen of none save him whose strenuous tongue Can burst Joy's grape against his palate fine; His soul shalt taste the sadness of her might, And be among her cloudy trophies hung. ~~ John Keats English Poet, 1785-1821 Ode to Poet John Keats (1795 - 1821) " Beauty is truth, truth beauty,' -- that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know"* Too soon a young and gifted poet died but left behind his love for symmetry. His sonnet, ode and classic epic cried with vivid color, tone, in harmony. Appealing to our senses, sight and sound an ancient Grecian Urn he paints in Ode, a Cricket's song in English Sonnet frame. A Nightingale in measured verse is crowned and through his Melancholy he bestowed to us a truth in beauty to proclaim. ~~~Judi Van Gorder *from Ode on a Grecian Urn by John Keats The Ode Odes named for poet or culture of their origin: Thematic Odes: The Aeolic Ode The Choral Ode or Pindaric Ode or Dorian Ode The Anacreontic Ode The Horatian Ode The Irregular or Cowleyan Ode The Keatsian or English Ode The Ronsardian Ode Elegy, Obsequy, Threnody Ode Elemental Ode Genethliacum Ode Encomium or Coronation Ode Epithalamion or Epithalamium and Protholathiumis Palinode Ode Panegyric or Paean Triumphal Ode Occasional Verse