Posts Tagged poems with images

ODOP: Old Danilo (6)

“But I thought you must have been gone three days.”
“Fool! You saw the sun in the sky.” “No, grandsire,
For my eyes had darkened with hunger.
If this really has been but three hours, they’ve been
The longest three of my life. But I’m
Sorry, grandsire. I held out against my
Hunger as long as I could.” “Never mind.
If I starve, I starve. I don’t fear death, not I.
I fear nothing outside my Russia –
And nothing in her except Baba Yaga.”

And Old Danilo promised to lead
Ivan himself to fair Vasilisa.
“She’s no tsar’s daughter, nor a general’s:
Her father is a peasant, poor and lame.”
“Well, a peasant’s daughter is better than
None at all,” said Ivan. “And she’s better
Than a boyar’s son for marrying. Besides,
Those sheep sure were tasty.” Said Danilo,
“You remind me of your great-grandfather
As a prince. And now to holy Russia.”

Copyright 2010 Jobey George.

Basically, Ivan’s got the lowliest girl, dark chick on the right. It’ll be great fun when we meet her. Oil by Vasnetsov. Obviously NOT copyright 2010 Jobey George.


Leave a Comment

ODOP: Old Danilo (1)

Ever taken Russian Fairy Tales? It seems it’s getting to be a popular course in eastern-coast universities… anyone? Remember this?

That’s heroism for you. Look at that fighting spirit! Get that huge-ass bird, Ivan!

Okay, maybe, maybe not? What about the iconic Vasilisa?

Funny, she’s not dressed Goth…

Okay, let’s give it one more try. Remember to be looking at the borders and noting the artist’s palette…

All right, all right, I give. It’s Bilibin.

Yeah! Kiss that hot new girl-bride, bro!

Well, you don’t have to have passed RFT… or even taken it… to understand the next fifteen or so updates. Let’s be honest, does anyone really understand the references in anyone else’s post-post-post-modernist poetry anymore?

It’s the Golden-Thread Spider of Mumbai. But the author is clearly using it as a symbol of her doomed relationship with her transexual cat as it collapses under the weight of digitalization in a rapidly semi-demi-globalizing world. Seriously, how did you not get that?

But if you are already familiar with Russian folklore, you would understand that the rampant nationalism and dirty-mindedness in this fine blank-verse narrative reading experience are definitely not mine.

Well, not wholly mine.

Old Danilo

Time ago a certain tsar had a son
He sent in state to a rival king, who,
Mindless of God, showed Prince Ivan no warmth
When the tsar was disposed, but cast him to
The stables. Now Ivan never bemoaned
His foul luck, though left restless by bad dreams
Whene’er he winked, but worked all through his youth
Like a horse, singing loud Russian songs and
Cracking broad jokes to the beasts and foreign
Serfs (who were equally dumb) while he sweat.

Copyright 2010 Jobey George… who has signed her passport for hell now that she has used a lolcats picture on her poetry blog.

Comments (2)

ODOP: Joanna Tutored

We’re all born innocuous,
Breadloves, kicking and fleshy.
It’s amazing what can happen
When fourscore other people die.

A princess’s entire education—
The Latin, the music, the geography—
Is based on what might happen
Should fourscore others die.

Joanna learns the precision
Of dancing and the quickness of French.
One must be a good queen,
If fourscore others fail.

Copyright 2010 Jobey George. Nothing here is historically accurate. Nothing.

Leave a Comment

ODOP: Paid Out

Yesterday I laid the blame on fantasy lit. Today’s scapegoat: Charles Portis.

He’s got a mark but lives in Nod;
Is cruel, but they fry cruelty
For supper there; yet your heart beats,
And by his spurs you know him.

Crisp money, the overpowering smell,
And sergeant’s handshakes you forswore.
You tracked him for love of Lost Larkin
To dispatch him with his spurs.

Copyright 2010 Jobey George.

Comments (2)

ODOP: Birdseye View

Image copyright NASA. As you might expect, this site is not endorsed by the same.

I sit on the rim but I’m facing in—
And damn! You people’s daily deeds,
Endless, tiny pulses—
Done with such celerity
And such coordination!

Image copyright NASA (which, as any fool might guess, does not endorse this site). Poem copyright 2010 Jobey George. Comments very welcome.

Leave a Comment

ODOP: Joanna, Slip Given

Joanna the Mad, dressed in kirtles red,
Traipsed from the Escorial half-bare.
She laughed at her feet growing red in the snow,
And gave never a thought for St. Claire.

Copyright 2010 Jobey George


Read more about Joanna the Mad here

Comments (2)

ODOP: Naked Valley Grave

An arid wind, a sandy drone,
A world too old to grow older.
And I am distinct from none of it
As my dry bones moulder.

The staring, merciless sun did witness
The decay of my folly and prattle…
And it alone was there to witness.
That these dry bones can rattle.

Not it alone, it was you!—That shakes
The mountains, and rends the skies,
And will be reckless in his vengeance
Till these dry bones do rise.

Terrible god, pressing forward,
In your cruel and kind advance!
Come and give your breath to me,
And make these dry bones dance.

Copyright 2010 Jobey George

Image by Vrubel.

Comments (1)