Inspire 52 - Week 6. Off With Her Ode!

So what has inspired me this week? It's difficult to tell really, given that I have been feeling pretty uninspired all week! This is mainly due to the fact that I have been suffering from the third cold of the winter (once a month for the last three months ... it's getting a bit of a drag!) So the challenge is to make this an inspiration for Inspire 52 week 6 - here goes!

On Friday night I posted on Facebook "That's it I'm done with winter ... Can't do it anymore!" I've just logged and it seems to have generated a mini debate between friends.

"Winter is soft and white and fluffy and cold...merely a transition from old to new...hibernation and bug killing time"

And the reply to this was ...

"Nothing fluffy about winter... it's harsh... like a seasonal blade of ice particles, forever slicing the soul of sunshine dreamers. It's brittle, and freezing. The whole season should be damned... if it were not for the fact it reminds us how cool spring is."

Great, love it! Two completely contrasting views. There are way too many things I could comment on in the list of responses, but this one seems to be the most apt for what I am writing now.

" It is the void of uninspiration which inspires me"

Well I suppose I would have to agree at this point, as I am here trying to be inspired for my Inspire 52, something somewhere is in fact inspiring me through all this uninspiration ... does that make any sense? So lets focus on the uninspiration and see where it leads ...

 "off with her head!" The Queen of Hearts - Alice in Wonderland Lewis Carroll 1951

If I recall back to Monday for a moment, I did have a glimpse of inspiration. I was at work looking rough and ill and thought a head transplant would have been a good idea! 1, because my throat was hurting so much that the blade probably would not have made the slightest bit of difference! And 2, because the onset of winter blues had begun nibbling away at my psyche and this seemed like a good solution, albeit radical! For a moment I was transported, down the rabbit hole and playing croquet with the Queen of Hearts, having tea with Alice and the Mad Hatter. I thought perhaps I could be the Queen of Spades, a new addition to the story that way I could wear black and white of course! That is where my inspiration ended on Monday, day one of Week 6, what a great start!
(By the way, I hope that you are picking up on my sarcasm here!)

So here we are on Saturday, day 6, only one day to go until the self inflicted deadline. It's like having to hand homework in once a week, only to myself! I was chatting with my friend and colleague earlier, Caroline Parrott, she was the one who started Make 52 last year and who I am carrying on from with the creative '52' legacy. Aware that this week would be a bit of a rant about how crap winter was making me feel and that this would be reflected in my work she agreed and said that it had happened to her on occasions too, and that doing the 52 project was a bit like "a weekly dose of analysing yourself". So I guess there are going to be a whole host of emotions themes inspirations and uninspirations that get revealed as I am giving a piece of my life to you, this is a window of truth. Thank you Caroline, that did indeed help me to come to terms with what I have written, am writing and indeed will write in the future.

(By the way, I always much prefer having pictures to look at ... but there are no pictures so far ... lol ... I hope you're staying with me on this one :-)

Ok, where were we? Yes ... I am feeling particularly uninspired to create something visual so I thought I would do a written piece this week. So I have begun thinking about what it could be, a piece of prose, a poem or just a word! Hey that would be too easy ...

Having decided that I fancied writing a piece and thought back to Keats whom I studied as part of my A'levels. I thought his work was just great, especially the 50 line poem he wrote about a Greek pot! I remember studying this and being in fits of laughter with my friends, why would anyone write such an epic poem about a pot! Ode on a Grecian Urn is in fact one of his most acclaimed poems, hmmm.... - thanks Keats! Not the most chirpy of poets, but indeed a great man of words from the early 1800s. So in homage to Keats I have decided to write an ode.

What is this Ode going to teach me? Well, it will be a new poetic formula that I have never used before in my written work. Having looked at a few of his poems, I have decided I am going to attempt to follow Keats' example from Ode to Autumn; 3 stanza's each of 11 lines. Before I get onto my Ode, (which I haven't written yet 20.22 Saturday evening) I thought I'd find my inspiration from Ode To Autumn as it has a seasonal aptness that is speaking to me, and given that Keats did not write an Ode To Winter, I have now bestowed myself with this task ... bonding with a dead poet! The full Ode To Autumn, is at the bottom of the blog just in case you fancy a read.

Ode to Autumn is described to be a poem about the progression through the seasons, the harvest and the onset of winter. 'The work has also been interpreted as a meditation on death; as an allegory of artistic creation' (1) Interesting!! And apparently it is considered to be one of the 'most perfect short poems of the English Language'(2)  ... Okay, so I have not set myself a difficult task then! My attempt is going to be totally improvised and hopefully will be written before midnight tonight! I have three hours and thirteen minutes to go! ... no pressure then ...

Okay here goes, get into the zone .... think early 1800s, miserable poet! ...


Ode To Winter - Hazel Evans

Season of white and frozen-filled air
A companion of the darken'd night
Hatching bleak plans without a care
It will be a long time until warm light;
Taken at the throat and lining the lung,
The whitening cracks of splitting ice
Make their way through each pumping vein
Feeding the weakness, clamping the vice;
Tweeting bitter sliced tunes only half sung
Transitional operations are only half begun
As the wounds are cut open by frozen rain.

Who hath not caught a cold this winter?
Lucky bugger, abroad hath your time be spent?
Shackled here with my throat'd splinter
You lucky fellow, may your luck be lent!
For here this story gets icier than icy,
As the Queen of Hearts has ordered my head
But winter has frozen my coronary beat
And banished me, eucalyptus-fumed to bed.
Steady thy chili hand, go easy on the spicy
A hot water bottle will do me quite nicely
Thou watchest the socks dressing thy feet.

Where the songs of Spring? Where the hell are they!
Think not this state of time be forever in freeze
That one day soon we'll sing a warm play,
That our layers of layers remove with ease.
Recovered from the bitter poison injection,
Will the heart grow warmer and fonder?
Again the desire lives, sweet passion not dies
In the bleakness of this day, 'tis thy wonder,
The yearning and waiting upon your reflection,
The inspiration, creation in hibernation,
From whence the frozen bird again once flies!

Voila! Check in time 22.11
I quite enjoyed that, I hope you do too. I am sure Keats spent longer than two hours on his masterpiece, and I'm sure his sentences are much better composed than mine, but hey.

Now it's Keats' turn - Critical comparison anyone!

Ode to Autumn - John Keats

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run;
To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For Summer has o'er-brimm'd their clammy cells.

Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep,
Drows'd with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers:
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
Steady thy laden head across a brook;
Or by a cider-press, with patient look,
Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.

Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,-
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft;
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.

John Keats is considered as a Romantic Poet perhaphs this is a good lead into Valentine's next week.
Until then, I hope you have enjoyed my uninspired rant of truthful insight and masterful poem for Inspire 52 Week 6!

Now here's some pictures!

Wow, I've done it homework in!

Quotes
- (1) (2) Wikipedia