Dawn
Airplane streaking
Morning activity
Watch the day envelope the night
It is only accidental this alba has 17 syllables.
It is only accidental this alba has 17 syllables.
Of course it is, Peter. Otherwise, we'd have to count you among the orthodox poets (shudder, shudder).
Joe
Aurora please,
send me no envelopes
I long to see this evening never end.
Les
The main reason
I like this forum
is that everyone else
is at least as wigged out
as I am.
or,
abcdb
I know nothing of albas, but am feeling a bit wigged out these days. Nice lines, nice dawn.
Mary
Alba is the word for a dawn song. Since late Latin songs and singers and lovers, the song the lover sings his song as he escapes before hubby shows up is called an alba, or dawn song. It usually expresses the pain of having the leave and, perhaps, some alarm at the risk of getting caught in the morning light. Ezra Pound and others have written some albas in the twentieth century.
Thanks for reading, Mary. My poem isn't really very poignant. Still, it was fun to notice I'd written another dawn song.
Peter
like I said, I know nothing of albas. What's it called when they leave for no particular reason? The sun's coming up and I have to go now? You were cuter in the dark? lol....sorry Peter. I'm in hysterically good humour tonight, or maybe just hysterical.
Peace....and may the bluebird of albas be ever in your favor!
Mary
Surely, Mary is right. Composing an alba doesn't imply an illicit tryst. However regular sleeping partners probably become too complacent to engage in the practice. My Australian dictionary [Macquarie] doesn't even contain the word, which may say something about the average Aussie male. The SOED just says "a mediaeval Provencal song at dawn".
Ian
Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 05/18/2009 11:08AM by IanAKB.
In the sixties, Peter, Paul & Mary sang a very popular 'Alba' which I echo in my first line:
"Leaving on a Jet Plane, Don't know when I'll be back again...Oh Babe, I hate to go" maybe not so illicit, but that ache was certainly there..
btw, Ian, don't be so naive about the male hormones in Australia, lol...All Men Are Pigs.
Peter
I wasn't referring to those hormones, Peter. I was referring to whatever urges result in the composition of poetry, and specifically albas.
"... in the early morning rain, big 707 set to go ..." etc. That's a different song isn't it.
Ian
Ian,
No, same song, different line. And no, same hormones, different use...at least according to Siggie Freud. It's sublimation gets us culture, both our desire to kill each other and our desire to fuck. Overindulgence in the former leads to our penchant for war and overindulgence in the latter leads to our overpopulation. Some days, I think the latter the greater danger...tra la.
Anyhow, thanks for dropping in.
Besides, ain't there plenty of Australian poets who write songs about unrequited love, trysts and irate husbands? Maybe you can educate me on this with a short list.
amo,
Peter
Actually, they are different songs:
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You're right, Joe...must be the early morning fog I was whistling to myself.
Cheers,
Peter