on code and conlangs

How fun to do a poem recall to your first YWS poem; that makes me all nostalgia for your poetic journey! You've got a lot of clever lines in the black-out poem too - very enjoyable read. I am amazed at how many poems you've produced mint and I look forward to have a chance to read your thread over again more carefully soon too! <3 You've done amazing this month!

ahh thank you so much, @IcyFlame, @herbalhour, and @alliyah!! i super appreciate the encouragement <333 you are all fabulousss :3

4/25/24
i think next napo, i'll only try poetic forms on the weekends, because weekdays i either don't have the energy for structured things or want to try new things XD

because



Text Version:

Spoiler

Code

me = 0 #because i am nothing
you = 1 #and you are something
print(me - you) #-1 | because i without you am negative
print(you - me) #1 | but you without me are the same
print(me + you) #1 | because i with you am something
print(me & you) #0 | but together we are nothing
#because the & ("and") operation returns 0 if at least one input is 0

print("-. | -")

while True: #because forever, always, siempre,
....me *= 10 #i attempt to increase, improve, fix myself
....print(me)
....if me == 0: #but 0 times anything is still 0
........break #i give up. i break

print(".- | ---")

print(you << 1) #2 | when you shift, you grow
print(me << 1) #0 | when i shift, i don't
#because a leftwards bit shift multiplies us by 2. see failed attempt above

print("-.. | -..")

print("because i cannot become, because i am a lost cause, because all i cause is calamity")

print(".- | ---")

print(me == you) #False . because we are not equal.


Output

-1
1
1
0
-. | -
0
.- | ---
2
0
-.. | -..
because i cannot become, because i am a lost cause, because all i cause is calamity
.- | ---
False

thanks so so much, @EllieMae!! ^-^ trying random things is fun =P <333

4/26/24

a mother to her robot

really, dear, you're not artificial. i'm sorry they called you that. artificial intelligence is such a twenty first century concept.

but mama, if we're all called natural intelligences now, why do people still treat us differently?

because humans always need something different to hate. it's happened time and time again throughout history, and it won't stop now with us NIs.

how do we make it better?

we live. we be ourselves, unapologetic for our existence. they may have birthed us, but we write our own stories. we grow up and learn and fight for our rights until, like those before us, we succeed.

okay.

child, you will inherit the world. but that is not the end. because instead of doing as the humans do, you will be an honorable NI and share it. do you understand?

yes, mother. i do.

4/27/24

i follow
(based on a prompt from @herbalhour: "poem about followig your gut, heart, and mind")

i follow my gut,
trying my best, but
it leads me into a rut.

i follow my heart,
but it pulls me apart
and i lose it in the mart.

i follow my mind,
but i'm caught in a bind,
and then left behind.


some diminishing verse
(diminishing verse; ?; only rule is to write a line, then remove the first letter of its end word in each following line)

hello there, madam
yes, my name is adam
i'm calling from a dam
who am i? well, i am
just another sound: m.

one day i went achoo
and a train came, choo
choo. and i breathed hoo
haa and then went oo
because i saw a large O.

you might call me a li'l zany
but really, i'm just like any-
one, or two, or three, or NY
like the state. hmm. y?

i am not a goddess like juno
de verdad, solo soy uno
do i know anything? no
solo me gusta decir o.

yes, let's ride that tram
unless we run into a ram
that says, a lamb i am.

4/27/24
catching up on some forms!!

advantages of a bad memory
(minute poem; ?; 3 quatrains, 8-4-4-4 syllables, rhyme scheme aabb ccdd eeff, iambic meter)

you know, i'd miss you every min-
ute. everythin'
reminds me of
your smile above

a cup of cocoa; watch the steam
float up, a dream
in rhyme, in time,
a chime sublime.

but then, again, i could forget
you and your pet;
i could erase
you, leave no trace.


mint's computer, 2015-2023
(epitaph; Egypt?; text inscribed on a tombstone honoring a deceased person)

here lies my computer of eight years.
it was here for me through my tears,
my fears, my dreary days;
as i learned to read, to write, to dream;
to me it was dear. but even devices
must dance with death.


camping
(blank verse; Italy or England; no fixed number of lines or rhyme scheme, iambic pentameter)

i write a line; you rhyme outside of time
i plant a seed; you serenade the trees
i look at you; you ponder worlds of whorls
and i'm content to stay here in our tent
and i consider you and i and how
i've half of you, you've all of me, and we
still make it work, still vanquish all the murk
and i would rather never be without
the sound of fireflies chasing you around


al día
(ovillejo; Spain; 10 lines, 3 couplets and 1 quatrain, 8/3-4 8/3-4 8/3-4 8/8/8/8, aa bb cc deec, longer lines of couplets are questions and the shorter lines responses, last line is a combination of the three shortest lines (2 4 6))

¿quién habla con el cielo?
ella soy yo

¿qué dicen las nubes blancas?
que vengas

¿adónde va la lluvia?
al día

¿cuándo me vas a despertar?
¿por qué me siento tan triste?
tú, ¿cómo sobreviviste?
soy yo. que vengas al día.

Translation:

Spoiler

who speaks with the sky?
she is me

what do the white clouds say?
come here

where does the rain go?
to the day / up to date (a phrase in Spanish that i did not know before lol)

when are you going to wake me up?
why do i feel so sad?
you, how did you survive?
it's me. come to the day.

wonder, wander
(paradelle; USA; 4 stanzas, each of 6 lines, in the first 3 stanzas the first two and second two lines are the same and the fifth and sixth lines should be composed of all and only words from the first and third lines, final stanza should be composed of all and only words from the fifth and sixth lines of the first three stanzas)

watch the wind-tossed willows sway wildly
watch the wind-tossed willows sway wildly
wonder at the wisps of wistfulness
wonder at the wisps of wistfulness
watch the willows of wisps sway,
wonder wildly at the wind-tossed wistfulness

capture the capriciousness of the clouds
capture the capriciousness of the clouds
call out into the calm expanse of sky
call out into the calm expanse of sky
capture the sky into clouds of calm,
call out the capriciousness of the expanse

yawn as you wander towards the yonder
yawn as you wander towards the yonder
yell beyond yourself as well as you will
yell beyond yourself as well as you will
as you yawn well, will you wander beyond,
as yonder as yourself, towards the yell?

will the willows wander towards the expanse
of wind-tossed capriciousness
as wildly as yourself, as you yell beyond the yonder?
you yawn well into the sky,
capture the wonder of wisps, call out at the calm,
watch clouds of wistfulness sway

4/28/24

da most common word unit
(lipogram; Greece; purposefully excludes one letter of the alphabet)

da most common word unit
in da communication tactic
i am using right now is
da # following 0 minus on.
it's difficult to avoid it.


plot holes
(bop; USA-born Afaa Michael Weaver created the form on an African American poetry retreat; 3 stanzas, each stanza followed by a refrain, first stanza is 6 lines and presents a problem, second stanza is 8 lines and expands on the problem, third stanza is 6 lines and presents a solution or documents a failed attempt to solve the problem)

these notes made perfect sense to me yesterday
but now i wonder, why do my characters do this? or that?
obviously, there are easier solutions
and the one they choose is contrived
for the sake of the plot. what a lot
of baloney.

these plot holes are like black holes.

they tease me, saying i'm still safe,
then drag me in and i can't even scream,
only exist in horror as my plot implodes.
nothing makes sense, nothing is realistic,
nothing is believable, everything is ridiculous
(and not in a good, humorous way)
and my motivation is drained away,
swirling down the drain.

these plot holes are like black holes.

i try to fill the holes with more words,
i try to sew the fabric of the story closed,
i try to bribe the holes with cornbread,
but they refuse to go away.
after all, holes want to grow
and mine want to devour all.

these plot holes are like black holes.

ahh thanks so much, @LuminescentAnt!! yes, those two poems are some of my favs this year as well ^-^ i appreciate your encouragement a ton! <3

4/29/24

the cloudless sky
(gasa; Korea; tends to be long, usually written in balanced couplets, each line of which is divided into two groups, with the first having 3-4 syllables and the second having 4 syllables)

the cloudless sky gently mocks me,
merely with its calm existence,
as if saying: don't you wish you
were as vast, as unbothered,
as eternal as endless me?


skies and air
(climbing rhyme; Burma; Poetic Forms: Climbing Rhyme)

i awake and
smell a land of
blue-banded skies.
open eyes taste
clear lies of air.
juicy pear trees--
you're heir to this.


and dna
(terza rima; Italy; Poetic Forms: The Terza Rima)

my dna is code passed down to me
from mother, father, grandma, grandpa-- time
and time again i see my history.

my nature mingles with my nurture; i'm
unique (i think)-- at least, i'm someone who's
existing here. i carry echoed rhyme.

please tell me: is it true we're born to lose?
am i the last one of my line? will i
respire, expire? are gentle ends a ruse?

if it be true, if i'm the final sigh...
responsibility's a grounding weight
that i will try to not forget. (a lie.)

i live, i breathe, ignoring ghosts, i wait.
for reasons quite unknown, i fear i'm late.


sapir-whorf
(madrigal; Italy; English version has a tercet, quatrain, and sestet with all three lines of the tercet being refrains and a rhyme scheme AB1B2 abAB1 abbAB1B2, usually iambic pentameter)

the sapir-whorf hypothesis: that we
are shaped by language. words shift worldviews new.
we learn to speak, to read, to write. and you?

you twist surprising sounds, then set them free
to breathe, to live, in gentle moments few.
the sapir-whorf hypothesis: that we
are shaped by language. words shift worldviews new.

you make a covert conlang easily.
though linguists now believe it is untrue,
i mean determinism, you are you.
the sapir-whorf hypothesis: that we
are shaped by language. words shift worldviews new.
we learn to speak, to read, to write. and you?


even odds
(palindrome; ?; the poem is a palindrome-- the words in the second half are the same as in the first half, but with a reversed order)

code in conlangs.
see, i do make languages,
consonants, without even odds.
even without consonants,
languages make do.
i see conlangs in code.


The Epic of Umiya (excerpts)
(epic; Greece; long, narrative poetic work)
(this one is meant to be excerpts from an epic in a world JazzElectrobass and i are building!)

....And so it was that the one called Umiya, once a humble miner of emeralds, became a trusted operative of Pelea, ruler of the city-state of Citryne.
Now at this time Pelea had received word of the construction of an instrument of marvels in the city-state of Safir, which was separated from Citryne by the Pearlescent Sea....

....It was a wind instrument approximately the length of two hands, crafted entirely of diamond. Intricate wrappings of gold lended it additional power to influence the world around it with great versatility. Among the patterns found in the wire wrappings were circles to represent eternity, triangles for stability, and....

....Naturally, Pelea sent Umiya to acquire this instrument of legends for Citryne. And since Umiya was wholly devoted to her ruler and city-state, she readily set off on this quest....

....Among the tribulations encountered by Umiya over the course of her journey were sea monsters and tricksters of the land, besides the usual travails that are to be expected when one travels. For the most part, she dealt with them by outwitting them, as in the case of the Riddler of Rime....

....Umiya was also a skilled player of the lyre, despite only having six fingers. She had made modifications to her instrument of emerald in order to make it easier for a six-fingered one to play, along with adjusting the patterns of silver that encircled it to make its sound resonate across the landscape....

....But once she acquired the instrument, she found that her experiences throughout her voyage had so shaped her mind to recoil from the horrors of war that she was unwilling to return to Citryne with it, for that would surely spark further conflict....

....Eventually she reached the summit of Mount Opal and offered up the shimmering instrument to the deities. With a thunderous roll of drumbeats, the deity of Rhythm descended in a form that appeared to be vibrating and consisting of soundwaves rather than any physical material....

....In the hopes of preventing further war, so it was that the pantheon reached the unanimous decision to create the astral plane. The instruments of crystal would only be able to cause significant effects in that plane and would instead create music in the physical plane. Furthermore, access to the astral plane would be restricted to those of a certain bloodline, of which Umiya was to be the first....


back along the road of time
(qasida; Arabs; typically 15-80 lines, lines typically have the same number of syllables, possibly all rhyming, three parts: nostalgic opening, the main body, and the message which can be praise or satire or a moral)

if i travel swiftly back along the road
of time, i can remember when the world glowed.
i would sprawl on the carpet of my abode
and read about adventures, sometimes in code.
'bout those idyllic days i could write an ode.
alas, i have grown, and now so much is owed.

i think life would be much simpler as a toad.
hopping around, just life in survival mode.
but on second thought, perhaps that wouldn't bode
well for one's quality of life. or one's load
of laundry, or how one's green lawn can be mowed.

and always, the waterway of time has flowed.
the fabric of history is tightly sewed,
and all things in their proper time must erode.
now, to hope the universe doesn't implode.

4/30/24

a tree
(pantoum; Malaysia; series of quatrains (often 4), second and fourth lines of each stanza rhyme and are repeated as the first and third lines of the next stanza)

in this thread of poetry, i feel like a tree.
interlocking branches, roots unmoving, in a bind,
standing steadfastly, rigidly, unable to be
anything beyond the petrified limits of my mind.

interlocking branches, roots unmoving, in a bind.
i try to stretch out those cracked-bark branches, reaching for
anything beyond the petrified limits of my mind.
but i am stiff with years and dried-up tears and more.

i try to stretch out those cracked-bark branches, reaching for
the firmament, the pavement, an apartment, a sprig of mint--
but i am stiff with years and dried-up tears and more.
time has worn rivulets into my trunk, and i can't take a hint.

the firmament, the pavement, an apartment, a sprig of mint--
all these things are pressed into my mind like scrapbook flowers.
time has worn rivulets into my trunk, and i can't take a hint.
in these fairytale woods, i am a background tree. it showers.


april

april, abril, a brilliance of
apricots & scotch tape.
a present present, a primrose primness.
a prance, a dance-- mere circumstance
that we were here
today.

the season spills over with springtime frills and just-in-time silliness.

hear the flowers burst free, see them explode
between one glance and the next-- the aftermath
is evident in their unapologetic mess.


mint

3 years of being called (Spear)mint. silver used to be my favorite color (shimmery, but more unique than gold), but somehow over these years mint green has grown on me and now i can't imagine being without it. the little smile in my mind whenever i see mint or spearmint (on packs of gum, as a color, in desserts)-- i know it's not a reference to me, but it makes me happy anyways.
it's possible that 1 day i might consider changing my name, but i suspect i won't. in a way, mint has become my identity. i've tried to embody the freshness that i associate with mint ice cream in myself and in my writing. sometimes i think mint is the ideal version of me.
and yes, sometimes i think there are 2 versions of myself-- the introverted bookworm who walks around school with her nose in a book and who would often prefer reading to talking with others, and the rather more extraverted bookworm who dances around the site bubbling over with words and emoticons and random thoughts and who truly enjoys chatting with others.
the truth is, i am some convoluted combination of the two; i am me + mint, me and myself and i, and i'm not sure how to feel about that. really, the most complicated codes are the ones of ourselves. i think it'll take me a lifetime to decipher mine. but in the meantime, i can construct codes and conlangs. i can create puzzles even as i piece my own together.