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write2me@ webqueen-at-webqueen-dot-net |
Bon Mots |
...clever writing, pithy writing, experimental writing...
| Mykl's bio | A Dance with Time | Lauren's Necklace | |||
| Shine | The River Poems | ||||
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my professional bio. -- it's a bit conservative,
but i didn't want to seem too forward...
bio:
mykl (last name withheld to protect the innocent)
Tried and convicted, recently, for attempted poetry.
Given a commuted sentence - the syntax of which he promptly fractured.
Earlier convictions included stomping pentameter and dividing couplets.
Seemed amused at the judges terse remark that "he seems hell-bent on notoriety"
Types at 35 words per minute.
Prominent publication offered to publish his work posthumously
if he would accommodate. (he replied that he is dying to know if they are sincere)
Quotes about author:
"Greatest poet of my time" - Cid Hamlet Ben Engeli
"Of the great poets of our day we would be remiss, if not remiss
about including mr. herdklotz among them." - the Pedestrian Meatball, 1986
"Priceless writing, for which one could not possibly attach a value,
words simply can not express what his words mean"
-Edward Elston Cummings, The Atlantic Weekly
"He puts the "B" in Ebonics", 'he be fine' says William Bennett
"A writer not easily ignored" says Prose and Scribes magazine
("though we've tried")
©1997
A Dance With Time
playing with "experimental writing."
(for a friend)Think about the sensation you have when you are standing or sitting quietly,
your mind and all it's thoughts are far, far away.
Like an eagle gliding the hushed air currents,
riding the majestic heights of the majestic depths of the Grand Canyon.
Your soul is sailing a dreamer's sea; in another time; in a far away place.
Remember that feeling?
You had it walking along the late afternoon beach at the water's edge;
your eyes scanning the wet sand at your feet,
where the individual grains seemed more noticeable to you somehow.
You had only peripherally joined the parade in search of the perfect shell,
or some other sea-treasure washed to shore and placed lovingly at the feet,
as if a gift from mother-sea, because that individual was so special,
so well-loved and singled out to be the recipient of Marian's gem.
You watched the little baby waves splash coolness over your feet,
and skip back giggling to mother-sea.
You had that sensation while reading. Peaceful quiet tucked around you;
distant voices, barely heard, yet so distinctly articulated.
Your mind noted the anomalous intrusion, vaguely curious; and yawning,
walked away... away to that place; that far place;
where the sound and the feel of eagle wings gliding free air currents
washes through the shadows of your mind;
puffing in that kind of joy that is so solitary, and sweet;
clean, forgiven, new and refreshed.
It is a magical, mystical dance; a forever dance with time.
It is here in this holy place, resting in the arms of trusted strength,
as a well-loved babe, sung to, read to, and well-kissed --
here it is that your soul longs to dwell...
For here in this place, this dance with time, are your ideas so clear;
so lucidly compelling, but so beautifully gentle. They come to you so easily;
like the well-loved and well-kissed children they are; adoringly returning,
forever trusting, they fall into your arms -- riding your dance with time.
A moment, only a moment. But inside that moment
the voice of your stellar love comes to you like magnolia-scented breezes,
wafting again into your soul, and you know...
you know you've stood there since the dawn of eternity,
in peaceful anticipation, an unhurried wait.
You extend your arm, sending out your timeless search,
swaddled in the peculiar scent of your own spirit-joy; always looking for truth.
You've kissed those lips in your dance with time.
You've been carried in glee on the strength of those arms.
From the birth of eternity you've stood there on the edge, leaning out far,
sending out your spirit to find truth, again;
in your forever dance with time.
©1997
The sun is shining...or, at least it was eight minutes ago. Here, some 93 million miles away(give or take the difference between the perihelion and the aphelion), we can't help but notice, appreciate the sun. Californians are well known for their sun-loving habits. Where else can you find bikinis and swimming pool floats and beach towels for sale....in January??(okay, you got me...Melbourne and Sydney!)...That's why most of them ARE Californians....Oregonians are probably even MORE appreciative of the sun....because they so seldom actually see it...a matter of faith, almost. In Oregon, you pray that summer, in the form of a couple of consecutive warm, sunny days, comes on a weekend...so you can enjoy it. You have to remind yourself, on those rare occasions, that the strange glowing thing exultantly sending bright shafts of light through all the cumulonimbic fluff is a natural phenomenon and is NOT, in fact, the glorious and powerful King of Kings returning in the clouds...(Hmmm...is that the distant sound of an angelic shofar I hear???)
Of course, it's no great revelation that the sun is necessary for all that lives and breathes here on this earth...(with the possible exception of a few sulphur based life-forms that live near the life-giving warmth of the spreading zones on the perennially dark ocean floor) For all our recklessly brave displays of human independence, our oft-inappropriate confidence in our ability as a species to always be the fittest, to always survive and prevail, our top-of-the-food-chain arrogance...if the sun had ceased to shine eight minutes ago, this bright living planet would suddenly be a dark and frozen lifeless ball of stone and ice. No solar-reflective moon at night. No radiant heating of tropical atmospheric molecules. No swirling patterns of air currents.
No water in liquid state. No rain cycle. No photosynthesis. No respiration of carbon dioxide or of oxygen. No life.
And yet, what does the sun actually DO?...Well, it DOES...nothing, really. Like other stars, it moves through space on a pre-determined galactic course....and it undergoes the process of hydrogen fusion(...And God said,"Light, be!!"...or set into motion Maxwell's Equations.)...In short, it shines, the passive result of that fusion ...and, as a consequence, 93 million miles away a small blue planet dances, flourishes with life...not because the sun decided to make life on earth possible, but because it shines (with no thought of the consequences) and the earth is, by His design, in the perfect place to derive the life-giving blessings of sunshine...And we look up with wonder at God's 'greater light'...only perceiving it eight minutes after-the-fact.
Daniel once equated people who impart wisdom, who lead others to righteousness with shining stars. Shining is a passive act...more being like Him and less striving to do what we think He would do. Shining is faith...the pure and bright living faith that produces, by its very nature, works acceptable to Him. Like the sun, we may never see the profound effects of our shining. We may never perceive the blessings, the life we impart to others...But rest assured, lives are changed(for the better!!) because we shine (and let Him worry about the 'before men' part)...and they behold with wonder, the great Light of the Saviour shining in us and turn toward Him...and begin to shine themselves...sometimes after-the-fact.
So often, I find myself sitting on the periphery, watching all of the brave and beautiful, fearless people doing, seemingly without effort, things that I find impossible...not the spectacular things(like piloting a plane or performing surgery) even...just the ordinary things...carrying a tune, riding a bicycle, holding one's own in a conversation. You know, we live in a world that values Doing...It's so easy to follow suit. So, I sit and curse my ineptitude and my vicarious existence on the sidelines of church and life-in-general. Until He reminds me that what He values is Being. Shining...
©1998
I have a most unusual necklace. It's made of sterling silver.(not unusual) I made it myself.(not common, but unremarkable) It was carefully planned and lovingly executed. Between hammer and anvil, I forged a smooth arc of angular silver wire.
Forging is a process whereby metal is given shape. For swordblades and silver necklaces, the process is the same. Carefully administered hammerstrikes are used to push, direct and guide the metal, causing it to take on the desired shape. But there is more to it than that.
If you were to simply pound away, regardless of skill and care taken, it would not be long before you held dead, broken shards in your hands. Shaping metal in this way causes it to become quite brittle. The process of annealing is the necessary companion of forging.
Annealing is simple. Using a torch, heat your work-in-progress until it glows red and then quench it in cold water.(At one time, Spanish blades, forged in Toledo were renowned as the best in the world. The secret of their success was this...after the last, defining tap of the hammer, the blade was once more heated to glowing red and then quenched, not in water, but in blood. Plunged into the heart of a sacrificial slave.) This process softens the metal, making it possible to continue the work of forging to its completion. It is from this cycle of the hammer and anvil/the fire and the water...shaping/softening over and over again until perfection is obtained, that great flexibility and tensile strength is imparted to the metal, the work-in-progress.
If you're like me, you have been between hammer and anvil...Pain. And you've been in the fire...More pain. And you've definitely been quenched in the Blood of the Sacrifice...His pain. Some days the only comfort is knowing that the painful cycle of shaping and softening is His means of bringing us, the works-in-progress, to perfection...a synthesis of great strength and awesome beauty.
Using a hand drawn paper pattern and the finest jewelers' saw I could find, I cut and detailed abstract lotus blossoms from a sheet of silver, and soldered them to either end of tbe forged wire. The final step of creation was to polish it, using several rouge compounds and a jewelers' high speed buffing machine. I looked with mounting wonder, appreciation, and pride as the very nearly finished work took on a life and beauty of its own in my hands, before my eyes...
and then the disaster...the heartless buffer, spinning at speeds in excess of 10,000 RPM, ripped my very nearly newborn creation from my loving hands...and mangled it into something resembling a trainwreck. Twisted, broken, stillborn jewelry. Cursing, raging, grieving under my breath, I interred the remains in a drawer and left, seeking comfort, bitter laughter, or oblivion.
Eventually, I had to return and again open the drawer. What met my eyes was...potential. Twisted but filled with new direction and possibility. Again, the hammer and the anvil. New solder for the broken wire. A second, much more wary session with the buffer. At last, creation completed. And I, the creator, saw that it was very good, and I rested.
Truth is, the necklace that rose from the wreckage turned out to be far more striking, possessed of deeper beauty than the one that died...The glories and process of restoration are much the same for both metal masterpieces in the hands of the artisan and human masterpieces in the Hands of the Creator...Restoration is not about getting back something that you have lost. Rather, it is a long, intricate process of becoming far more than you could have ever been. You will find that the greatest beauty and depth of character is not produced inspite of your flaws, imperfections, and injuries, but rather, they ARE the direct result of your flaws, imperfections, and injuries. These things are the raw materials that the Master uses to shape His finest, most exquisite works... Destruction and creation go hand in hand...beauty from ashes. The achingly gorgeous work of restoration.
©1998
buy a kiss! |
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you should go see her
you know how cranky she gets when you don't call or write
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