When time becomes hard to endure consider a timeless reality through poetry

BLACK HOLES, INFORMATIONAL WAVES and POETRY

by T. M. Shorewick


Black holes, informational waves and poetry
Begin with that elusive singularity
Where nothing works
No bennies no perks

But information
Is the same at any station
In the universe
A truth no more perverse

Than the speed of light
All critters eyes’ consistent sight
Where that speed
Is a solid constant indeed

So like a grave wave
Information is a weighted slave
Not to time but space
It ever strides all over space’s place

Time does not matter
Like the Mad Hatter
Predictably late
For any important date

There is no atom, particle
So special
Bereft of information
Thus the fundamental explanation

Gravity can be a wave
Information its underlying pave
Attraction pacing between verity
And a black hole’s draining eternity

Hence poetry
Rails conversely
Against a black hole
Seeking some author of its parole

Whence there is no tense
Eternity has no temporal fence
While information’s style
Piles up a never ending info file

Music so deaf and dense
Language a ridiculous sense
All like poetry born
From that singularity forlorn

Shorewick’s book: AQUINNAH, DAWN OF MARTHA’S VINEYARD Haiku Enhanced Photos is now available as a Kindle e-book; Excerpts follow,

Bloodshot eye opens
Verdant lid occludes all view
Which inwardly spew
It is blood
No more to say
The people devour its flood
✽✽✽
Adam did grow
From fine red clay, but know
This is the home of Tashtego
Cuneiform clay
Naught for posterity stay
With ocean play
The sand drawn vee
Mimics tide’s
Cyclic identity
✽✽✽
Would myriad dancing feet
Breaching the shore
Record this sandy score
The galaxy’s pledge
Under our feet as much as
Beyond our knowledge
Empty shells foretell
A silence
That pebbles endure so well
✽✽✽
Valued shells
And eroded ores
Bank on ancient shores
With a closer look
It is hard not to notice
Light’s delightful flock
Sea to haughty bluffs, atone
You are
But smooth stone
✽✽✽
How many generations
Does it take
Sea to jagged edges break

© 2020 All Rights Reserved
The photographs and poetry in this collection originally were published in AQUINNAH, DAWN OF MARTHA’S VINEYARD, by T. M. Shorewick.

ISBN 9781702371148

Shorewick Publishes his Latest Book — TRAILS, STREAMS AND OLD RAILS OF SOUTHEAST PENNSYLVANIA: Following Light’s Range with Lens and Haiku

Available now from Amazon, both in paperback and as a Kindle e-book, this work combines photography and haiku to extol the value of walking through the woods. Here are some sample pages.

Fungal forms around
Mushrooms require moisture
Stones care not what ground
Through a circle
One comes or goes
Always passing home
✽✽✽
Warriors saluting
Worshipers adoring
Their object sometimes blaming
If I were water
You would see a surge upstream
With me on the crest
Is it what I saw
Thirsty dinosaur
Why the stony teeth
✽✽✽
Fossils
Are mute syllables
Of nature’s deep grammar
Reminder that form
Does not ever stop changing
Static not the norm
Watch a galaxy’s spiral
Spawn shapes
Nature takes viral
✽✽✽
Can the cycle of the sun
Cause branches to twist
Seeking circular solution
Table’s fine setting
For a vegetarian
Or barbarian
Place to stand
Pretend to command
What you don’t understand
✽✽✽
Bold skinny sprig
Challenges one boulder
Haughtily

Copyright © 2020

ISBN: 9798631373679

The Inevitable Result of Binge-reading 14th to 17th Century English Poetry

A comfortable chair is essential!


 
Synopsis of 14th to 17th century poetry in English
 
Sumer is icumin in
Lhude sing cuccu 
Now’s the time for us to screw
For soon shall I die
And so shall you
Then throw in some Greek mythology 
Add a Roman warrior or two
Make sexual orthodoxy your barrier
To any variant shrew 
And forget not the urn
To which all mortal coils return
Avow our life’s purpose lies as hence
Oh future publishers amass ye pounds and pence
 
The impropriety of piety 
 
Give it a rest, poet
Debauchery is necessary
To run a church
Not an ossuary 
 
Detach from yourself
Maybe live a little
Leave the holy books on the shelf
Take a taste of sinner’s spittle
 
Don't make not sinning a sin
How can you atone
From what is just a spin
Of a barren bone
 
Only God claims existence guiltless
Don't chide your perfection 
Parishioners ignore your distress
Sin is your profession’s protection 
 
Your life seems a bore
But you act like such a sinner
What are Satan's wiles for
But to mark the path of a beginner
 
Consider Adam and Eve
Before knowing the serpent's fruit
Unable to conceive how to conceive 
Learned to become humanity’s root
 
They transitioned through transgression
Needing a translator to speak with God
This is the founding of your profession 
For which you should give the Lord a nod
 

Sumer is icumin in Lhude sing Bar B Que

Hibachi Haiku
1
Gaseous grills can't overcast
Hibachi’s ashy repast 
Domed Dutch Ovens dominate last
2
Slow ember’s cuisines need
Charred and smoked moved a rear
Lo, both relent, let hibachi lead
3
A small grill for a monk
Others for a family chewing
The monk’s meal is palatable 
4
Regard ye, three grills
The smallest thrills
It heats yet chills
5
Don't these green swaths
Recollect fattened cows
Whose scions on hibachis sizzle fershizzle