#26 - Sancho the Bailiff (1954)

This poem was inspired by Sansho the Bailiff, a 1954 Japanese period film directed by Kenji Mizoguchi. This film is about two aristocratic children who are sold into slavery in seventeenth century Japan. That felt like too big a topic for me to tackle in 14 lines, so I got distracted by the style of the film instead… 

#26 – Stories told in monochrome 

A story told in black and white may seem

archaic. I assure you that it’s not. 

It’s history. It’s certain, like a dream;

the tones are sharper, and the patterns pop.

The shadows take a darker kind of hue – 

both literal and in symbolic sense.

Without the colours, there’s nothing to do

but focus on the plot. It’s more intense,

the gravitas seeps through the monochrome

and bathes the retinas in sombre tones.

The black and white is stark as written poems;

as stark as dampened earth and pallid bones. 

As serious as colour film can be,

these black and white constraints set stories free. 

LM 

Image via IMDB

#25 - Our Motto:

 #19 - Apocalypse Now (1979)

I love the smell of napalm in the morning!

If someone tells me that’s their favourite line,

I’ll likely take that as a useful warning,

and think: This dufus ain’t no friend of mine!

 

cuz if you think that Kilgore is your idol,

it’s fair to say you’ve missed the movie’s theme.

which makes me think All Yanks are homicidal!

with Wagner-flavoured national fever dreams.

 

For me, the key is Willard’s opening speech –

imprisoned in a dark he can’t control,

lamenting wasted time and virtues bygone –

as peace and sanity twist out of reach,

he growls a line from out his tortured soul:

 Saigon. Shit. I’m still only in Saigon.

AWB

to see the video of this poem and more, check out Andy's Patreon

#24 - Sikiliza Kwa Wahenga

(Russell J Turner)

This year we are using films from the Sight and Sound 2022 list as prompts

Sixth up from me is Jordan Peele’s Get Out (2017 - #100), a curtal sonnet taking inspiration and its title from a Swahili refrain used in the soundtrack

Listen to the elders as the stories begin,
drinking brews of mesmerism ‒ a sunken place
manifests affected care and narcissism.
Monuments to second chances, trophies of skin ‒
blind are they that seek to use another’s face,
deaf to the tranquil, the wild and quiet rhythm.

Listen to the last songs of deer that lay dying,
dance in disbelief the gods may grant you their grace,
crack the artifice and glamours that imprison.

Listen to the sorrows, to the children crying
“listen, listen, listen…”

RJT

#23 - Disconnected Intermissions, or: if Kubrick wrote a sonnet, it would be a Chant Royale set to Strauss

Fay Roberts’s penultimate sonnet this year is inspired by Stanley Kubrick’s epic, surreal sci-fi classic, the USAmerican movie, 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968), written by Stanley Kubrick and Arthur C. Clarke, and starring Keir Dullea, Gary Lockwood, William Sylvester, and Douglas Rain.

In pain, this late, I don’t know if I’ll last;
I tried to read the book when I was wee.
(my television’s not exactly vast)
it’s not the way he wanted us to see…

This fearful symmetry, this awful drone;
intelligence is warfare, death on hand?
And what’s a stylus but a sharpened bit of bone
rotating, waiting for the chance to land?

The choir shrills their harsh, triumphant skirls,
the people decorations, afterthoughts
(the future’s white, and all the servants girls)
a way to highlight scale, the plot for naught…

As splendid isolation is the way
this final human touch calls it a day.

Image from Wikipedia

If you have access to Prime Video, you can watch the 2:29 long, English language movie here. Content warnings include: violence, flashing lights, murder. Let us know what you thought if you’ve seen it! Maybe don’t watch it knackered and in lots of pain, though, unless you enjoy obsessing over tapirs in a sleep-deprived state… And conception metaphors…

#22 - Spirited Away (2001)

This poem was inspired by Spirited Away (2001) which was one of my favourite films when I was in school. It’s a Japanese animated fantasy film written and directed by the legendary Hayao Miyazaki. A big part of the story revolves around the main character losing her name. Names and naming are a really common theme in stories and folklore, so that was what I focused on for my sonnet. 

#22 – Nameless

an answerless non-riddle

My name is in the swaying of the elms,

the humming birds, all gathering at dusk.

A solitary sound, a darkened realm;

my name’s the pecan, shielded by the husk.

A moniker, inscribed upon my chest,

my name’s the word the finches know by heart.

My name is lightning, my name is suppressed,

a flicker, flaming brightly through the dark. 

A lost lament, my name is happenstance,

a floating orchid, swirling in the swell,

my name resides in roses, when they dance;

my name’s the chemical that splits the cell.

If you can name me, I’ll be yours to keep.

My name is in the earth. It’s buried deep. 

LM 

Image via IMDB

#21 - Shepherd's Pie For Ewe

 #44 Killer of Sheep (1978)

I am the shepherd – probably the best

you’ve ever seen. Popular with sheep –

the sheep, they love me. Last guy, he just messed

up everything. I fixed it: one clean sweep.

 

You seen the markets? Wool is up a bunch –

we’re looking at a boom that never ends!

Triumphal mutton will be served at lunch

and also lamb (for just my closest friends).

 

Another savvy deal: dinners, meet diners!

see, this is doing business in the pro’s!

Ignore my bogus critics and maligners:

I am the greatest – everybody knows

the deaths so wrongly charged to my account

were just the black sheep – clearly they don’t count.

AWB

for the video of the poem, visit Andy's Patreon

#20 - Long Division

(Russell J Turner)

This year we are using films from the Sight and Sound 2022 list as prompts

Fifth up from me is Rainer Werner Fassbinder’s Fear Eats the Soul (1974 - #52), heavily informed by my own experience of love across an age divide

For you are so much younger yet possessed
with wisdom way beyond my scatterbrain ‒
we meet in bars, we shelter from the rain,
cocooned from animosity and jest.
We build a monument to stand the test
of time and love, to sing an old refrain
which slowly fades into a frosty pain ‒
we feather and then flee our little nest

But this is not some different land or age
or circumstance, we do not face the fear
and ignorance that others must abide ‒
conclusion comes from what I cannot cage,
the darkness that in time may disappear
beneath the waters of some tranquil tide

RJT