Playing Catch Up
Adding to a blog all the time can be hard. I know it's not like its a long haul thing where I have to write for hundreds of pages a day, but I never seem to be able to find the time. I mean, is there a time in the day for blogging? For me its when I have something better to do, but choose not to do it. Tragic I know, but I am of the youTube generation.
Anything to tell you of this week? Well at the moment I have been sorting through the mail of my dad's cousin. So whilst I am trying to get some of the work done for next term (as well as reading some texts for personal enrichment and keeping up with my writing), my mum is trolling the mailing sites trying to slow down the steady flow of mail entering Geoff's house and phoning up to ask for advice on how to tackle this mail problem. It's really a family task, sorting through this mail, so excuse any days of silence.
Ah well. Here is something I wrote for ICW, a sestina on the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice, and all that stuff that they did in the underworld.
Last week I looked for Riri
Though I knew that she was lost
I searched for her still. Her Fifi
She caled me, before she was taken
By him, the guy that they call Rich
Who takes the steepest cost.
But why the hell is the cost
My cutey, my soul, my Riri?
She’s the one who made me feel rich.
But then a trip, fall, lost –
No tricks to try or steps taken –
I couldn’t save her, no longer Fifi.
I didn’t sing or laugh, no longer Fifi,
Just a bloke who loved and paid the cost.
Where is she? Dead. Taken
Low below the ground, pretty Riri,
In a filthy puddle, left and lost
To Rich. The dead make him rich.
Yes, the millions make him Rich.
I asked the miser and his wife, ‘Let Fifi
Take back his Riri. She was lost
And I want her back, whatever the cost.
I want to hold her now, my Riri.
Just tell me where she was taken.’
Then Rich said, ‘If you’re so taken
By her and thought yourself rich
Together, then you can have your Riri.
But you should know the price, Fifi.
’Cause every trip has its cost:
Look back and everything is lost.’
I thought I’d won back what I lost:
That I found what was taken
From me, that there was no cost
For this loss. In fact, I was rich
Until fear crept. I looked. That Fifi
Was the idiot who lost his Riri.
Riri was lost in the shadows,
And Fifi’s song taken with her.
Rich dreams have heavy costs.
Hope you enjoyed. As always, projects are banging around behind the scenes. Will get back to doing them soon, and they will appear before your eyes before too long.