CHEERFUL NOISE as in a poem

Today's poem The poet Jennifer Wong living in London recommended this poem. So lovely cooking poem. Sweet peppers are flouncing, sometimes dancing with 3 beats. See firecrackers and fireworks on an iron frying pan. Leap to Gastronomía del País Vasco. Ready for sherry? Sure, Osborne sherry. Thank you to both the poets Martha Sprackland and Jennifer Wong. Pimientos de Padrón by Martha Sprackland Os pementos de Padrón uns pican e outros non A plateful of dark green bullets slick in their lake of grassy blood and charred from the fire, still hissing and settling, smoking, the skin lifting and curling studded with salt-flakes. They were our cheap roulette – some hot, others not (the capsicum is brewed by the sudden sun at summer’s edge). We were all of us bad at decisions, lovesick, shamed or fleeing or brisant and in shock. The city emptied as the madrile.os boarded up the bodegas and rippled out towards the cooler coasts leaving us to our own boiling ghosts, reckless enough to hold t

Today's poem In Memoriam A. H. H. OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII: 15 by Alfred Lord Tennyson Dr. Masaki Isshiki (一色 真幸), an engineer and researcher on optics passed away. I found his official obituary on one website. When I was a dabbler in optics but required the knowledge of this field as a patent translator, he arduously taught the optical system to me, sometimes discussed with me. I can't forget his teaching of Nikon 's fisheye lens. I knew how an engineer or scientist was great and extremely admired and respected him. He was also a true GENTLEMAN. R.I.P. Isshiki-sensei • His patent specification:  https://bit.ly/34A66zF   (He wrote it by himself. The technology is out-of-date, however, the basis of the invention has worked. Correction of aberration and distortion is illustrated for simple understanding. English in the specification is beautiful, in particular, two claims are perfect.) • His document:   https://bit.ly/37NJ0Yv • (memory):       https://redbook-jp.com/kenkyukai-e/20

Today's poem This morning this feeling. Keats wrote it at 23 years old. To Autumn by John Keats Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun; Conspiring with him how to load and bless With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run; To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees, And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core; To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells With a sweet kernel; to set budding more, And still more, later flowers for the bees, Until they think warm days will never cease, For summer has o'er-brimm'd their clammy cells. Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store? Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find Thee sitting careless on a granary floor, Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind; Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep, Drows'd with the fume of poppies, while thy hook Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers: And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep Steady thy laden head across a b

Today's poem Very suggestive video clips for me. I should read more Walt Whitman's poems. "Respiration as Inspiration" by David Fuller David Fuller researched the breath influence on poetry and literature. https://catchyourbreath.org/respiration-as-inspiration/

Today's poem Congrats, Louise Glück. My previous comment to her collection.  (  https://bit.ly/2GVyUcW  )

Japan Writers Conference 2020 via Zoom  (10th & 11th October) Every autumn looking forward to joining in the conference. Under COVID-19, all sessions were held via Zoom. I jointed in the 10th & 11th October programmes. http://japanwritersconference.org/schedule/ (1) Cross-Disciplinary Poetry, Workshop organized by Christopher Simons       The level was so high, evocative for me. The discussion was about what I generally thought about, e.g., jargon. I didn't disagree with the use of jargon in verse, because it can become a poetic element; playful. How can I effectively function jargon in the poetic viewpoint? Considering a poetry reading scene, i.e., a scene of spoken words, it's significant to imagine the audience. Further, we referred to verse of some English poets. I reaffirmed the virtue of close-reading skill. Regarding poetry crafting, the theme was science. I pondered robotics (I often have translated), wanted to write an ode to the acclaimed roboticist who had es

Today's poem      Indeed, he has a great talent - I was intrigued by Shaun Tan 's fine originals at his exhibition in Yokohama ( https://bit.ly/36Fk2tu ) last week. He is popular all over the world with his picture book The Arrival  (  https://bit.ly/3d3wHYC ). I particularly like the way Tan has begun his drawings of the every-day scenes of life. It's most impressive for me to see individual steps or detailed process in his work with subtlety.      He has always scribbled or jotted what has appeared in his mind or what he saw with wonder, gradually getting the shape of an illustration or story. His creativity might start in an analog way, i.e., pencil drawings in his mini notebook, though recent young artists may use a tablet. Through reiteration of disassembly, arrangement, and editing of his rough, tiny ideas in slips, a series of sketches get a plot.      I think that his procedure is similar to build up words for completing a poem. Each small sketch is each seed for

Today's poem Metempsychosis - Derek Mahon's soul will bring back to life. Lives by Derek Mahon   for Seamus Heaney First time out I was a torc of gold And wept tears of the sun. That was fun But they buried me In the earth two thousand years Till a labourer Turned me up with a pick In eighteen fifty-four. Once I was an oar But stuck in the shore To mark the place of a grave When the lost ship Sailed away. I thought Of Ithaca, but soon decayed. The time that I liked Best was when I was a bump of clay In a Navaho rug, Put there to mitigate The too god-like Perfection of that Merely human artifact. I served my maker well — He lived long To be struck down in Denver by an electric shock The night the lights Went out in Europe Never to shine again. So many lives, So many things to remember! I was a stone in Tibet, A tongue of bark At the heart of Africa Growing darker and darker . . . It all seems A little unreal now, Now that I am An anthropologist With my own Credit card, dictaph