An Emperor’s Smile

Posted on by Robert Eck

In an ekphrastic poem submission, I had written a poem stimulated by a sculpture, or a painting of a sculpture, depicting an old man with a chiseled face sporting a aquiline nose and a scowl — a most unhappy guy appearing to have the weight of the world on his brow.  The painting contained no background information regarding who it represented or the era in which he lived.  So, I had to imagine the identity of the subject, and the meaning the artist intended — using my imagination.  

After spending some time seeking to identify the subject, without success, I imagined the sculpture image to be a troubled Roman emperor near the end of his reign, and the artist’s attempt to portray the Emperor in a favorable light — lest he be dispatched to the Roman Coliseum for the sport of feeding the lions.  The poor sculptor or painter had to be worried.  Hence, he engaged the grumpy emperor to smile, a little.  

An Emperor’s Smile

The artist studied his subject:
Sitting still, mind elsewhere.
“Emperor, try to look 
Happy and smile, a little.”

“I can’t smile, life is hard,
Full of pain and sorrow.
Enemies plot my death
My subjects think me cruel.”

The artist painted true
Leaving the eyes and mouth
Last, pleading once more:
“Please, just a little smile.”

“Paint me as I appear!
I have no cause to smile.
No one cares or loves me,
My final days are near.”   

”But reflect on your youth,
When young love brought joy.”
A fleeting, wistful grin —
Vanished, his scowl returned.

Of course, I do not know how the session ended, but I suspect the artist survived the unveiling of the art work.

Drop, Drip, Dribble

Posted on by Robert Eck

My kitchen faucet has developed a slow drip.  It’s annoying, but interesting to watch.  First a small globule starts to form — a cute little sphere, which slowly reforms into a bottom heavy bead, which then separates to fall into the sink.  Nothing to worry about yet, as each drop drips about every ten seconds, or about 6 drips a minute; but that extends to 360 drops an hour, and a frightening 8,640 drops a day.  Should I be worried? 

How much water is in a drop — or is it a drip?  According to standard measures, a drop equals 0.05 milliliters, so 20 drops become 1.0 milliliters (thecalculatorsite.com) — a pretty small amount.  To put things in perspective, one 8 ounce cup equals 236.59 milliliters, and 8,640 drops equal 432 milliliters daily (thecalculatorsite.com), so at my present drip-drop rate, I lose about 1.8 cups of water a day — less expensive than a plumber.      

 What does one call the little globule hanging down from a water faucet?  Lets consult some dictionary definitions:

— Drop: 1. A small quantity of fluid that falls. 2. Quantity contained in a globule or bead that forms or falls. (dictionary.com)

— Drip: 1. An act of dripping. 2. liquid that drops. 3. Sound made by falling drops. (dictionary.com) 

Hmmm!  It seems that both a drop or a drip refers to a quantity of fluid or liquid that falls, so which is it?   Does a drop drip, or does a drip drop?  We need to examine the dictionary a little further.

— Droplet: A little drip. (dictionary.com)

— Driplet: 1. A droplet that is dripping. 2. A cute droplet. (Urban dictionary.com) 

— Driblet: A drop of liquid (merriun-websterdictionary.com)

— Dribble: A thin stream of liquid; a trickle. (dictionary.com) 

Accordingly, we have identified several descriptive words to describe a quantity of liquid contained in a globule or bead.  When I watch the spherical globule form, it looks a little cute, so at that point I could reliably call it a driplet (a cute droplet) or a droplet (a little drip) — neither is a drop nor a drip yet.  As it grows in volume, however, it definitely becomes a larger geometric shape and takes on the character of a drop or a drip, which in turn, become a driblet (a droplet that’s dripping)  To be sure, as the time between driblets shorten, a potential dribble becomes a concern.  The only thing we know for sure: when that globule becomes a dribble, one better call the plumber.

After rereading the above, I must conclude that this drop, droplet, drip, driplet, driblet, dribble discussion amounts to little more than drivel.

— Drivel: Nonsense (dictionary.com)      

Shadows of Light

Posted on by Robert Eck

Continuing on The Ekphrastic Journey described in my last post, I immerse myself into a painting entitled “Open All Night,” which I cannot reproduce for copyright reasons.  

It depicts an urban scene, showing attached three-story apartment buildings, set back from the street, with an intervening wide sidewalk.  The first floor facades sport festive holiday lights on tree and bush at night.  One building houses a neighborhood liquor store with Yule decorations, festooning the windows and door, awash in a bright second floor neon sign, exuding an eerie glow in an otherwise sleepy environs.  The title suggests that the bright neon sign stays lit throughout the night, in contrast to the joyful season decorations. 

Indoor lighting shine through the pulled curtains of some of the windows, whereas others remain dark, the residents either away or asleep, shades lowered or curtains pulled to block the annoyance of the intruding glare.  A sole pedestrian walks past the liquor store window, holding a small brown bag, presumably a yule-tide refreshment to take back home to one of the apartments.  

Indeed, the painting evokes many themes and thoughts, which would lead to a myriad of poems.  Is it happy or sad, pleasing or annoying?  Below is my ekphrastic journey describing the visual artwork.         

Shadows of Light

A Yule night adorned with
String light decorations
On tree, bush and window,
Adding joy to the street.

Offset by neon glare
From a liquor store sign,
Invading the festive
Air with an eerie glow.

Soft Indoor light beams
Through apartment shades,
Drawn to shield the dweller
From the intrusive blare.

While other window frames
Remain dark, presenting
A checkerboard facade
Gleaming in fluorescence.

A lone figure walks past
The liquor store window,
Toward one of the dark rooms,
With a brown bag in hand,

To celebrate the Yule,
Or to dampen the pain
Of living a dull life,
In the shadows of light?

An Ekphrastic Journey

Posted on by Robert Eck

I have not written a post since February 2, 2022 — 10 months ago, mostly to mourn the loss of a sibling and to serve as Personal Representative for the estate.  Though writing no posts, I dabbled in writing poetry as a diversion.

And so, as I tip-toe back, rusty and topic-less, I refer readers to my earlier post “Random Reverie” of January 10, 2018, which discusses my first attempt to write poetry, concluding with “A Framed Print.”  Essentially, while resting on a comfortable couch, I imagined myself walking within a landscape print, hung over a mantle, noting my senses and reactions   Since then, I have immersed myself into other works of art, writing lines that occurred to me during the process.  It stimulates and awakens use of language in a most economical fashion.   

Ekphrastic defined: “A literary description or commentary on a visual work of art.” (Merrium-Webster dictionary.)  An Ekphrastic poem, therefore, focuses on something like a painting, photograph or sculpture, and enjoys a long history, going at least as far back to The Iliad of Homer (born 8th century BC), who describes Achilles shield in detail. (Wikipedia, Shield of Achilles.)  In an ekphrastic poem, the poet consults a work of art, and creates a poem about it.  It can simply describe the image itself, or relate to a thought or feeling emanating from it, with no constraining rules, hinging on rhyme, meter or form.  

I started composing Ekphrastic poems, mostly as a writing exercise. Subjects for poetry never came easily to me, so I needed help in selecting topics.  A picture introduces a visual topic with potentially multifold approaches to address it.  To aid my new venture, I participated in a monthly Ekphrastic poetry contest, not only to provide the topic, but also to observe the winning poems, as a training method. I neither won a prize nor honorable mention, but enjoyed the challenge of writing something about the look or feel of the visual work before me.  

Unfortunately, because all the pictorial works are subject to the US Copyright laws, I cannot reproduce the picture to aid the reader, who will be left to his or her imagination. So I am relegated to writing a brief description of the visual, followed by my amateurish attempt to craft a poem about it.

Description: A photograph of an open egg carton depicting a single egg set in one of the corners.  My Ekphrastic offering below:   

Breakfast Dilemma

Early to rise,
Breakfast awaits
What to consume?
How ‘bout some eggs

Open the carton,
One egg remains
In the end slot
Last of the line.

Fresh or not so?
Test if it floats.
A bad omen
Or foul ovum?

One egg to cook
Hard boil and peel?
Soft boil for cup?
Poach, if I dare?

Scramble, masks flaws.
Sunny side up?
Over easy?
Baste in the pan?

Wish I had two.
No omelet today!
Need more than one.
Eat something else.

There you have it.  An Ekphrastic poem about an unusual visual.  Surely, it will not achieve literary acclaim, which was not my goal.  It was challenging and fun to write, and hopefully entertaining to read. 

You Gotta Know How to Fold’em

Posted on by Robert Eck

Every time I finish a letter, I experience difficulty folding it neatly to fit within my small 6.5” X 3.63” envelopes.  Obviously, the perfectly folded letter would be a 1/4 inch shorter around than the envelope size (6.25” X 3.5.”) My varying folding attempts became either too large to fit within the envelope, or too small and bulky, leaving considerable unused envelope space.  The perfect fold became an obsession, so I studied how to fold a standard 11” X 8.5” sheet into a 6.25 X 3.5 packet.

 Plan One: Fold sheet in half horizontally, thus reducing the 11” height to 5.75”,” and then fold into thirds vertically, which reduces the width 8.5” dimension to 2.83.”  Three folds that fit, but the finished packet proved much too small (5.75” X 2.83”) — too much unused inner space, almost one inch around within the envelope.  I needed more efficiency.

Plan Two: Fold the sheet in half vertically, reducing the width from 8.5” to 4.25”, and then folding in thirds horizontally.  No Good, as the result yielded a 4.25 X 3.66,” — even smaller than Plan One. 

Plan Three: Use a ruler. Fold the sheet a measured 2.25” inches in from the right margin, reducing the paper width to 6.25,” (a dimension easily slidable  within a 6.5” envelope) and then fold the remainder into thirds. Unfortunately, though meeting the length dimension, it exceeded the vertical space by 1/4,” thus requiring folding over part of the envelope flap to cover the insert. Though it worked, it created an unsightly annoyance in exceeding the envelope’s inner space.      

Plan Four:  Fold the bottom margin a measured 4 1/2”, thus reducing the vertical dimension to exactly 7,” and then fold the remainder in half again to reach an optimum 3 1/2” width, using just two folds.  Thereafter, fold the right margin inward 2 1/2” to fit within the envelope.  Plan Four works, efficiently uses all the inner envelope space, but unfortunately, leaves an imbalanced bulge on one side. By now, desperation has set in.  

Plan Five:  Fold the paper along its diagonal, connecting the opposed corner points, yielding a pair of slightly misaligned triangle sections, which can be improved by refolding each triangle lower corner point to meet the opposite horizontal line, looking more like an Origami project. To complete, fold the end points toward the opposite margin.  Walla!  In just four folds, it almost fits!  All that remains is to snip off the two small corner point pieces and the letter is completely tucked within the envelope inner space, with no bulges or wasted space.  To be sure, the fold lines appear a little odd, but the letter may be unfolded easily.  As far as the small snippets, no one ever writes anything in those corner point spaces anyway.

My study has reached the perfect solution:  Buy larger envelopes!

Portmanteau

Posted on by Robert Eck

By the title, I expect that you may have concluded that I took a trip to a place called Port Manteau — a seemingly desirable warm beach location on a French Isle to obtain pleasant relief from the winter cold.  But no, portmanteau is not a place name; it is a dictionary word having two meanings with a long literary history.  

My first introduction to the word “portmanteau” came in the novels of Charles Dickens, as he described numerous traveler lifting and binding a portmanteau — a bag with two compartments packed with clothes, toiletries, and trip necessities — atop a horse drawn carriage traveling hither and non over muddy, rutty roads in the nineteenth century.   

My second revelation came from none other than that famous linguist, Humpty Dumpty, in “Through the Looking Glass” by C S Lewis (1832—1898).  Humpty Dumpty explains:

— “Well, ‘slithy means “lithe and slimy” and ‘Mimsy is “flimsy and miserable”. You see it’s like a portmanteau — there are two meanings packed up into one word.” 

By definition, portmanteau carries two meanings:

  1. A large trunk or suitcase, typically made of leather and opening into two equal parts, derived from combining the french words porter (to carry) and manteau (cloak); and
  1. A word blending the sounds and combining the meaning of two other words.

In modern times linguists would identify a portmanteau as a neologism:  a newly coined word or expression (dictionary.com)

For examples,  lets look at a few common portmanteau neologisms: 

Chortle = Chuckle and snort (Lewis Carrol in through the Looking Glass)

Brunch = Breakfast and lunch

Spork = Spoon and fork

Skort = Skirt and shorts

Informercial = Information and commercial

Smog = Smoke and fog

Fortnight = Fourteen and night

Motel = Motor and hotel

Frenemy = Friend and enemy

Carjack = Car and hijack

Crunk = Crazy and drunk

Ginormous = Giant and enormous

And more recently:

Smize = Smile and Gaze (popularized recently by mask wearing)

Webinar = web and seminar

Podcast = Ipod and broadcast 

Lewis used many portmanteau words in his writing and poems; Dickens often used portmanteau words as surnames for his interesting characters.  In modern times, Lewis’ famous nonsense poem, Jabberwocky, could be updated to “Jabberwalkee” or “talkeewalkee” to define people who walk and talk on their cell phone at the same time.