Cruel Clever Cat

Sally, having swallowed cheese,
Directs down holes the scented breeze,
Enticing thus with baited breath
Nice mice to an untimely death.

-Geoffrey Taylor, A Dash of Garlic, 1933

Mil besos, mil perdones

Para ellas. Para mí. Para nosotros.


Mil besos, mil perdones,
Mil sueños, mil rincones;
¿Cómo pedirles mil disculpas
A mis mil hijas ya huídas?

Tras mil penas y mil cachetazos,
Ya no se encuentran en mis brazos,
¿Adónde se han ido todas
Mis niñas bellas y amorosas?

Melissa, chica de las flores,
Mezcla de arenas y calores:
¡Cántame del romance una vez más,
Y así yo te dejo la vida en paz!

Danilda, mi reinita consentida,
Dominicana, sonriente, prendida:
¡Envuélveme en tu arquitectura ébana
Que me mate la imaginación insensata!

Luanna, mitad del alma mía,
La que quedó en tierra bendita:
¡Permíteme que sienta tu ternura;
En cambio, te doy la buenaventura!

Aldina, muchacha guapita tejana,
Antes más cerca y ahora más lejana:
¡Piérdeme lo más pronto que puedas;
Aún te sigo pensando por mientras!

Grita la sangre, aún ardiente;
Pica la pasión, aún incesante;
¡Ya, por fin, que me libre el triste clamor:
Sobrevíveme, querida, sin mi amor!

The Lie

Go, Soul, the body's guest,
Upon a thankless errand;
Fear not to touch the best;
The truth shall be thy warrant:
Go, since I needs must die,
And give the world the lie.

Say to the court, it glows
And shines like rotten wood;
Say to the church, it shows
What's good, and doth no good:
If church and court reply,
Then give them both the lie.

Tell potentates, they live
Acting by others' action;
Not loved unless they give,
Not strong but by a faction.
If potentates reply,
Give potentates the lie.

Tell men of high condition,
That manage the estate,
Their purpose is ambition,
Their practice only hate:
And if they once reply,
Then give them all the lie.

Tell them that brave it most,
They beg for more by spending,
Who, in their greatest cost,
Seek nothing but commending.
And if they make reply,
Then give them all the lie.

Tell zeal it wants devotion;
Tell love it is but lust;
Tell time it metes but motion;
Tell flesh it is but dust:
And wish them not reply,
For thou must give the lie.

Tell age it daily wasteth;
Tell honour how it alters;
Tell beauty how she blasteth;
Tell favour how it falters:
And as they shall reply,
Give every one the lie.

Tell wit how much it wrangles
In tickle points of niceness;
Tell wisdom she entangles
Herself in overwiseness:
And when they do reply,
Straight give them both the lie.

Tell physic of her boldness;
Tell skill it is pretension;
Tell charity of coldness;
Tell law it is contention:
And as they do reply,
So give them still the lie.

Tell fortune of her blindness;
Tell nature of decay;
Tell friendship of unkindness;
Tell justice of delay:
And if they will reply,
Then give them all the lie.

Tell arts they have no soundness,
But vary by esteeming;
Tell schools they want profoundness,
And stand too much on seeming:
If arts and schools reply,
Give arts and schools the lie.

Tell faith it's fled the city;
Tell how the country erreth;
Tell manhood shakes off pity
And virtue least preferreth:
And if they do reply,
Spare not to give the lie.

So when thou hast, as I
Commanded thee, done blabbing--
Although to give the lie
Deserves no less than stabbing--
Stab at thee he that will,
No stab the soul can kill.

-Sir Walter Raleigh, 1608

Jerusalem

From the soundtrack to my Dad's favorite movie, "Chariots of Fire." I find it appropriate to post this day as he turns 67 years old.

Happy Birthday Dad!

You'll note that the lyrics are actually taken from the poem at right, originally penned as a preface to Milton by William Blake nearly 200 years ago.

Now set to music, it is a divine and hymn-like song enjoyed by all of Great Britain ... and Anglophiles everywhere like myself!

(I should also mention that throngs of spectators often sing this anthem at rugby union matches in England!!!)

Ode to Father

Paragon of perfection, father dear?
Molded from outlands, hewn from rock cities:
The sinewy heart must take without fear
No lonely nor lowly proximities
To build from not, a sure nobility
And spirit of motivation, ripe life
O'erflowing in limitless, fruited trees;
Is not this the path to eternity
To bear 'midst the raspings of mortal strife
For the pinnacle yet extol the breeze?

Beneath The Cloisters

Today I saw a sight
More exquisite than Man-hattan,
A gift of time
And place
And quiet
And God:

There were four bands of Nature
Set before me in dual dimension,
Distinct in depth
Yet same in stratification:

A coarse and weathered stone wall
Not twenty feet away;

A scarified river face,
Changing texture for current and breeze;

A mantle of tree-covered cliffs
Thick in fall plumage;

And crowning all these,
The sky
In soft hazy blue
Stretched wide in swaths
Of cream-spread clouds.

Four horizons
Met in the moment,
Created a layered quartet
Of balance and peace,
One organic architecture
That only I did see.

A poem from New York ...

A few lines composed upon sketching the dingy view from my chair and table in the basement laundry while waiting for my shirts to dry on the evening of 14 July, 2010

(20 Dongan Place, New York, New York)

I can see the sweat
In the Gold Bond walls
Shored thick in Mexican labor;
Great stacks of yellow pound cake
Sloppily set in greasy guilt revealed!

Science of Soul

Amidst the realms
of mortal soul,
betwixt the helms
of lust and goal,

Burns bright a flame,
unquench'd, undimm'd:
an essence tame,
of purity limn'd.

And e'en the least
of mankind made,
after the beast
or lost and stray'd,

May feel the flame,
in sating sign,
of Him whose name
doth fore'er shine.

For by burn'd breast,
in witness giv'n,
the mind is blest
of God in heav'n,

To know and see
with untrain'd eye,
the breadth of science,
the width of why.

. . . .

scientiaspirituanimo

Tonight Your Face

Tonight your face
looking at mine
like a glimpse of moonlight
shone through the trees
of my hardened soul;

And by your grace
in nick of time,
though fears posed to affright,
pure love did cease
painful years of dole;

So shall your place
once crossed the line
giv’n last of mortal might
with God increase,
our eternal goal.

… amor vincit omnia …

Another favorite poem

Kubla Khan
or, A Vision in a Dream: A Fragment

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree :
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man

Down to a sunless sea.

So twice five miles of fertile ground
With walls and towers were girdled round :
And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,
Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree ;
And here were forests ancient as the hills,
Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.

But oh ! that deep romantic chasm which slanted
Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover !
A savage place ! as holy and enchanted
As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted
By woman wailing for her demon-lover !
And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,
As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,
A mighty fountain momently was forced :
Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst
Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,
Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher's flail :
And 'mid these dancing rocks at once and ever
It flung up momently the sacred river.
Five miles meandering with a mazy motion
Through wood and dale the sacred river ran,
Then reached the caverns measureless to man,
And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean :
And 'mid this tumult Kubla heard from far
Ancestral voices prophesying war !

The shadow of the dome of pleasure
Floated midway on the waves ;
Where was heard the mingled measure
From the fountain and the caves.

It was a miracle of rare device,
A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice !

A damsel with a dulcimer
In a vision once I saw :
It was an Abyssinian maid,
And on her dulcimer she played,
Singing of Mount Abora.
Could I revive within me
Her symphony and song,
To such a deep delight 'twould win me,

That with music loud and long,
I would build that dome in air,
That sunny dome ! those caves of ice !
And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry, Beware ! Beware !
His flashing eyes, his floating hair !
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread,
For he on honey-dew hath fed,
And drunk the milk of Paradise.

-Samuel Taylor Coleridge

The Daily Poetry Club

A few of my fellow BYU students recently created a website entitled, "The Daily Poetry Club."

It's pretty entertaining to be sure with a new topic posted daily for all to submit a relevant poem in reply... Here's the last poem I submitted in response to the "10/3/09: Freebie!" post:

Times tables and chairs and glasses
(or, The Legend of Daniel Sanford)

The memory of a math class
still persists
when time was shattered
when dreams were broken
and finally
pride was swept under
the table and chairs
(remember?)
(third grade?)
(how did we fit?)
(they were so low!)

If anything
any moment
meant anything at all
it was the timed tests
that rode the nerves
that made you squirm
in your tiny plastic seat
flexing and stressing
like a tinker toy
and for what?
for glory or fear?

No one cares now
that the sands have accumulated
and yet we always did
maybe not as much
as Daniel Sanford
that loony ninja nerd
so stressed
with his image
of unfounded genius
(because scrawniness
brings paradigm busting)

He just missed it
one problem
one little digit
no longer than your finger
barely
that was all
but something inside
exploded outward
in a mad fury
of ninja gaiden craziness
never seen off the playground

And so came the end
of a cheap pair of glasses
too thick
for a little master anyway
wrenched off his head
a two-handed job
and snapped
with a yell
and then came the teacher
and the stares
at the seppuku of Daniel Sanford

We were too young
too small to know
what had really happened
what had paused us
what he did
the broken glasses
the shame
and embarrassment
of a warrior
exposed
and brought to tears

. . .

So time passes
and our glasses
fill
or spill
or fade away
but we see
the light clearer
hindsight ever nearer
with each
and every
legendary day

Epiphaneia

No wiser words,
Have e'er been said,
Than those by Him,
Who once was dead;

Yet rose again,
Alive, anew,
The Word of life,
The Gospel true.

Another Sunday Poem

Here's another poem that I wrote a couple Sundays ago. It's a bit different, but I like it.

In June

In June, when sun comes down,
and things actually g(r)o(w) right,
I like to watch the world around me,
a little "intimation of immortality."

People do as they will without worry:
School's out, and so is responsibility.
Everything is easy;
Freedom fills our eyes.
The outside is better than the inside,
for once,
if not for often or ever.

Trying is burdensome;
Real worries comfortably flee;
For what is the sun,
but the bringer of light,
the essence of warmth,
and the softener of sensitivity?

All this for good is taken,
and while it may be so,
yet seasons change,
and sun hides away.

Overcast days bring despair,
Longing and wishing,
Hoping,
for opportunities
to give up cares once more...

Primitive is our ignorance,
our circular psyche,
our limbo.

Though days of brightness
and darkness abound,
and seesaw us up and down,
nevertheless,
sun never ceases:
the light is found in the finding.

In the mood...

Since I am on a roll, posting poems like they're going out of style, I figured that I might as well share one more. I originally composed this poem while in the LDS Missionary Training Center in 2003. I must offer a forewarning, however, to any who wishes to read on... this one's a bit different!

The Pleas-er Key-er

A stretched band of pearls, more white, less black;
glimmering, shimmering with glossy glaze glow.
The shiny smooth slicks at rest level lay;
a test for any best jester’s festering folly.

Who it allows or tries surely sees
these pleading, pleasing keys freeze and unlock doors,
scores of jump, trip, fly: Higher, High, Highest.

Here they are (were/will be) to break bleak stares’ silents;
10 marching soldiers, heavy feet falling boulders old orders filling,
called to attention on the spiffy spring-board platforms: ready
to start the game of the skip-hop bop stop tumbling flinging
like the singing of gymnasts’ flurry whirling dervish.

And then;
Snapped Nerves!
pulsing plunging pistons to the floor
of black and white marble tiles descending and bending;
the tricky tune pealed revealed by hot-potato palms,
a skitter-skat carnival tap like Kelly’s nimbles
slap the please! more! melodies out of the pleas dead gone.

Such sing and song dance trance of spazzy jazz romance
(from the clinking Chico pointers piercing people’s persons)
skis carving cutting the crisp, slippy slope still,
just missing, some kissing the sharp shark rocks, flats;
a spickle-spackle tackle spilling ‘Kovsky collide-o-scope
of Gehry’s wilting waves braves the paving road of rhyme
keeping time interred, fossil bones and stones and watches
tick notes not seen written on his mind forever.

The relays plays on a click beetle banter brocade
of olden golden melodies molten inspired never tired;
yet the carrier’s charisma cuts canst last,
past hours piled towers over waning wands’ wishes.

Ever bold, ever brilliant, bright, bristling warm,
was the storm (now subsided) of the pride praised picture song.

So gone is the giver grower of this glamorous glimmer?
Yes; retired the player his players the sound.

But;
Will the ever end-thusiasm?


ASC 4/24/05 - I revised this poem upon returning home from the mission. 7/11/09 - I just added one word... the one that was missing all this time!

Another small assortment of poetry

I was digging around today and came across these little rhymes, both written while in Church a couple years ago:

A poem for myself to mix rhyme with reason

The purest mind,
cannot tell,
of Adam's fate,
or whence he fell.

But I,
in simple ignorance,
have joy,
through his beneficence.


Dear God

Dear God,
What ever shall I do?
My forefathers were humbly strong in reverence to thee;
Can I be so too?

Is there a sacred citadel,
far from the reach of sin?
For if thou wilt, oh God, my God,
I would to dwell therein!

A word on dating...

I gave the following talk in church on June 28, 2009; I thought I'd pass it on for fun (although it may not read exactly as heard in person):

I'm very humbled to speak today, especially given the potentially sensitive nature of my topic and my relative inexperience and inadequacy with respect to it. My words will try to elaborate the importance of balancing our lives while dating, giving dating the appropriate place and priority in our lives. So, basically, I'm going to talk about dating!

To start things off, I'd like to read a poem written by Sir Francis Bacon around the turn of the 16th to 17th century entitled, "Life."

Life

The world's a bubble, and the life of man
Less than a span:
In his conception wretched, from the womb
So to the tomb;
Curst from his cradle, and brought up to years
With cares and fears.
Who then to frail mortality shall trust,
But limns on water, or but writes in dust.

Yet whilst with sorrow here we live opprest,
What life is best?
Courts are but only superficial schools
To dandle fools :
The rural parts are turn'd into a den
Of savage men:
And where's a city from foul vice so free,
But may be term'd the worst of all the three?

Domestic cares afflict the husband's bed,
Or pains his head:
Those that live single, take it for a curse,
Or do things worse:
Some would have children : those that have them, moan
Or wish them gone:
What is it, then, to have, or have no wife,
But single thraldom, or a double strife?

Our own affections still at home to please
Is a disease:
To cross the seas to any foreign soil,
Peril and toil:
Wars with their noise affright us ; when they cease,
We are worse in peace: —
What then remains, but that we still should cry
For being born, or, being born, to die?

Now, hopefully most, if not all, of us are not nearly as pessimistic and cynical as the poet, Sir Francis Bacon. Rather, I hope that each and every one of us at least possesses an ounce of optimism with respect to life, its twists and turns, and its purposes.

Dating, as a means to eventually fulfilling one such obvious purpose of life, should be a component of each of our single lives. Does this mean that dating is easy? That's up to us...

I wish to draw on a well-known talk given by Elder and Sister Oaks to illustrate what I mean... and yes, I'm referring to the famous, or infamous, "Dating versus hanging out" talk, given at a fireside in Oakland, California a few years ago. Elder Oaks makes an interesting point when he actually defines dating and its purposes: "Unlike hanging out, dating is not a team sport. Dating is pairing off to experience the kind of one-on-one association and temporary commitment that can lead to marriage in some rare and treasured cases."

Later he says, "Dating involves commitments, if only for a few hours. Hanging out requires no commitments, at least not for the men if the women provide the food and shelter."

And additionally, he says, "... we counsel you to channel your associations with the opposite sex into dating patterns that have the potential to mature into marriage, not hanging-out patterns that only have the prospect to mature into team sports like touch football." (or rugby, if I have already converted you!)

Although Elder Oaks offers several other insights into dating and hanging out, allow me to articulate it as plainly as possible: dating is not hanging out. It is more formal and purposeful than this. Nevertheless, dating is not courtship either. States Elder Oaks to the single, young men of the church: "Start with a variety of dates with a variety of young women, and when that phase yields a good prospect, proceed to courtship. It's marriage time."

Just as Elder Oaks distinguishes between "dating" and "hanging out," I feel it just as important to note that he distinguishes "dating" as different than and preparatory to "courtship," or exclusive dating with the intent to marry. Perhaps our definition of dating needs to be modified; perhaps the implications of dating someone need to be softened. Dating, as defined by Elder Oaks, is what we would call "dating around" and not "dating exclusively." It's time to update our vocabulary and similarly our perceptions.

So what exactly am I suggesting here? What can we single young men and young women do to optimistically approach dating in the proper light?

First, I wish to offer a few words to us men. Though I say that dating is not courtship, I do not wish to diminish the man's responsibility in the least. We should pursue dating with courage and purpose. It is our duty and privilege, our opportunity to reaffirm to the young women around us that they are literal daughters of God. Do whatever you can or must to remember that dating isn't about you, about where you are going, about the expense involved, or about what activity you choose to do... it's about your date and the chance you have to get a small peek into what further commitment to her would be like and would feel like.

The experience itself, as Elder Oaks stated, only represents a temporary commitment. And so, brethren, dating isn't a long-term commitment but rather a short-term experiment. And hopefully one day, such an experiment will lead to greater commitment, even courtship.

So what should we do to improve our dating pursuits? I suggest that planning ahead is the best action to take. We can create a list of good restaurants, fun places to go, and other ideas for activities well in advance. We can appropriate our money so that it isn't difficult or attention-drawing to pay for a date. Doing these simple things will build confidence and foster motivation to realize the last critical step: actually asking a young woman to go on a date with you... "pairing off" as Elder Oaks calls it. And if your planning doesn't go so well, you know you can always ask her, in anticipation of a date, what she would enjoy doing!

Remember, it's about her... not about you...

Second, I wish to speak to the women in frankness about their responsibility in this whole matter. Yes, you must discourage "hanging out," and while that may sound easy, that's not all: you must encourage "dating" as Elder Oaks said, not "courtship" from the start, but "dating"... and all this while avoiding "hanging out."

So what can you do to assist in the dating experiment? Well, let me assure you that Adam Pontipee or one of the Pontipee brothers won't all of a sudden come singing down from Rock Canyon to steal you away and make you his bride! On the contrary, and perhaps more realistically, it may feel like the young men you have your eye on don't even seem to know you exist! Perhaps you feel somewhat 'cast by the wayside' while all of your friends appear to be dating. Whatever the case may be, I say, "Don't wait for the cows to come home without calling them!"

Be proactive; make it easier for young men; express and show your desire to date. Ironically, you women of today are empowered like never before, and yet with respect to dating, the temptation is to feel or even act powerless. Remember, however, that a date is a mutual affair, not a one-sided effort. Do what you can to generate interest: initiate conversation; say hello; smile! By small and simple means are great things brought to pass. Yes, it is the man's responsibility to ask you out... but remember, men need help! Even our Heavenly Father knows this! ... There are small and simple things you can do to help.

Now, if you are making a conscious and continual effort yet not getting asked out, then don't give up but make sure to keep the rest of your life moving forward as well. Elder Oaks counsels, "If you are just marking time waiting for a marriage prospect, stop waiting. You may never have the opportunity for a suitable marriage in this life, so stop waiting and start moving. Prepare yourself for life—even a single life—by education, experience, and planning. Don't wait for happiness to be thrust upon you. Seek it out in service and learning. Make a life for yourself. And trust in the Lord. ..."

Third and finally, I wish to conclude by offering some thoughts to all of us, men and women alike. As many of you may recall, Elder Oaks said that "a date must pass the test of the three p's: (1) planned ahead, (2) paid for, and (3) paired off." While these parameters are obviously important, I would submit that they are primarily the young man's responsibility and can be completely covered before the date even happens. In an effort to remind all of us that a date is a mutual event, however, I would like to present my "three s's," applicable to both men and women, to build upon the "three p's": (1) keep it Simple, (2) make it Significant, and (3) be Sincere.

I once again quote Elder Oaks: "Simple and more frequent dates allow both men and women to "shop around" in a way that allows extensive evaluation of the prospects. The old-fashioned date was a wonderful way to get acquainted with a member of the opposite sex. It encouraged conversation. It allowed you to see how you treat others and how you are treated in a one-on-one situation. It gave opportunities to learn how to initiate and sustain a mature relationship."

Brothers and sisters, keeping our dates and dating habits simple will remove the majority of the intimidation, awkwardness, and anxiety that we often feel. We will be able to better plan and anticipate dates, because they will be simple, cheap, more frequent, and probably even more fun! ... Keep it simple.

Simple does not mean boring, uninvolved, or insignificant. As we strive to instead participate in good conversation, interact in new settings, and find ways to 'make the moment' for each other, then will our simple date become a more memorable and meaningful experience. ... Make it significant.

Perhaps the best way to give special meaning to a date, if only for a few hours, is to be yourself. How else will we be able to discern whether we want to advance to courtship in the future if only one or neither person presents his or her true self to the other? Do whatever it takes to date with pure motivations in an unassuming and optimistic manner. ... Be sincere.

I bear testimony that the Lord loves each and every one of us. He knows us personally. He is completely aware of our individual situations. I know that, for this reason, he blesses and guides us as much as He can so that we may reach our ultimate potential. Dating is a small means in this equation, to eventually receive eternal life. I know that the Church is true. I know that Joseph Smith is a true prophet. The Spirit testifies of these things. In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.

A favorite rhyme

"The World Is Too Much with Us"

The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers;
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon,
The winds that will be howling at all hours,
And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers,
For this, for everything, we are out of tune;
It moves us not.--Great God! I'd rather be
A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn;
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea;
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn.

-William Wordsworth, 1807

Poems for Mary

The Bells

Oh, to hear the bells,
so crisp through the air,
though blustery, though windy:
the sound rings true,
to my heart.

The ripe pealing of nature's frequency,
caresses and calls,
home, to home once more.

It's in the air,
the light, the trees, the leaves,
so much green and blue and bright:
the soul is filled,
with calm.


On a Rose

Though the rose's blooming and wilting lasts but a brief while,
yet the beauty and exuberance thereof,
in perfect display of fullness of life,
reminds us of the glory and brightness of each new day,
a chance to open ourselves to the world around us,
to let God's creative power shine through us;

A pure and simple gift,
of goodness,
of graciousness,
of love,
we are,
to all.

2009 ASC Region VI Design Build Competition

The stress has subsided, the pressure dropped, and all tension released. And in the end, I am happy to say that the 2009 BYU Design Build team emerged successful with a 2nd Place finish!

I am quite relieved that we did well despite the high level of competition presented by the other 10 or so teams. Arizona State University took 1st Place and will advance to Nationals; while I would've liked to win 1st, nevertheless my teammates and I won't miss all the work, time, and stress that goes into preparing for these competitions. So... here's to a comfortable 2nd Place instead!

"I've got a Gal in Kalamazoo"

(thanks Amy)