Guy Conner's Blog, page 2

An Adaptation

I’ve been recently in my acting class with a modern adaption on Chekov’s Uncle Vanya, a play called “Life Sucks,” it occurred to me that I could apply the concept of an adaptation to some of the translations I was doing.   In other words, I would translate the original poem into English and then turn it into a poem of my own through the process of adaptation.

Here is the poem I came up with:

2018

An adaptation of 1909 by Guillaume Apollinaire

(Translated and adapted by Guy Conner)

The woman h...

Sleepwriting

The poem below, a haiku, was in my head, completely written when I woke up this morning:

 

Death Vigil: The Eighth Day — A Poem Whose Title is Longer Than Itself

Her breath is raspy.
Outside, rain begins to fall.
Even God is sad.

The post Sleepwriting appeared first on Guy Conner.

poetry reading 2

I promised several people that I would repost this; I will also do a Facebook invitation.

 

I am pleased to announce that I plan to do my first poetry reading at the Atlas Coffee Company, 300 South A St, Ste 4 Santa Rosa on Wednesday, January 31st. Doors open at 6PM; readings start around 6:45

The post poetry reading 2 appeared first on Guy Conner.

A Brief Foray into Politics

I was speaking the other day before a group of people that I hadn’t known for very long about the need for a new constitutional convention. I advanced the opinion that the flaws that have become obvious in our governmental structure – the disproportionate representation for rural areas, the electoral college, the ludicrous notion that corporations are people, the disproportionate share of influence that goes to the wealthy, just to name a few – are as serious now as the flaws in the Articles...

Hermits and the Internet

The Hermit

The hermit, huddled on the hill,
Tries, by exercise of will,
To do away with loneliness.
Yet he is a hermit still.

His aged hands, beridged by time,
Are streaked with blood, and dust, and grime.
(The cuts are wrapped without success.)
All this the fruit of his weary climb.

Down there, the village whence he came,
Where once, a woman knew his name…
But all of that was long ago..
And yet, it matters, just the same..

Now time and tide have passed him by,
And he hasn’t tear enough to cr...

Reflections on Time

Reflections on Time

This is the first of a series of brief essays that expand upon the ideas expressed in my poems. Let me begin with a poem:

Time’s Fools

Time is the Master that controls us all.
What was, is. What will be, was.
We are all Time’s Fools,
Who clown and caper as it passes by

All of Time exists.
We have but a little bit of it,
To hug, and hold, and do kind deeds.
Our piece of Time, of course, must have a stop,
So let’s begin.

Time is truly our master, but it is also our window, o...

Poetry Reading

I am pleased to announce that I plan to do my first poetry reading at the Atlas Coffee Company, 300 South A St, Ste 4 Santa Rosa on Wednesday, January 31st.  Doors open at 6PM; readings start around 6:45

The post Poetry Reading appeared first on Guy Conner.

Courtship

Courtship

Feeling foolish, imbecilic,
Clutching flowers in his hand,
He somehow marshals, like a brave boy,
All the courage at his command.
Knocks quite softly, taps the doorbell,
Dreads the moment she appears
If he leaves now, before she answers,
He won’t confront his deepest fears.

The door is open, she regards him
With a pleasant, puzzled air.
He thrusts the flowers out before him
As if to show why he is there.
Then from within him, he is saying
The words he tried so long to hide,
Words he...

I'm back on this blog

Look for much more on this blog in the coming weeks - politics and essays will be added in the near future.  Meanwhile, here is a rewritten version of a poem that I posted some time ago.

 

Afterglow

They say the spirit lingers after death,
Or so I hope; there’s so much more to say.
They say that with your final, fleeting breath
You see your life, but distant, like a play.
If so, I’ll see you once and once again
I’ll see your eyes when first we kissed.
I’ll see your face at just the moment whe...

I’m back on this blog

Look for much more on this blog in the coming weeks – politics and essays will be added in the near future.  Meanwhile, here is a rewritten version of a poem that I posted some time ago.

 

Afterglow

They say the spirit lingers after death,
Or so I hope; there’s so much more to say.
They say that with your final, fleeting breath
You see your life, but distant, like a play.
If so, I’ll see you once and once again
I’ll see your eyes when first we kissed.
I’ll see your face at just the moment whe...