By DAN VALENTI

PLANET VALENTI News and Commentary

(FORTRESS OF SOLITUDE, WEEKEND EDITION, NOV. 14-16, 2014) — Welcome to Poetry Weekend, our respite from the skullduggery of local, state, national, and world politics. This is a time, also, for you to comment on any topic under the sun, the moon, the stars, and whatever lid hovers over your head. No subject is off topic, so feel free to take your random comments that haven’t had a place to fit and place them here. Or, if you wish, simply enjoy the poems.

That being said, THE PLANET does have one tiny political finding to offer.

First Word on the Mayoral ‘Love In’

The obvious scripting of the mayoral “love in” at Wednesday night’s council meeting marks a new low in the failed Bianchi Administration. It got THE PLANET to do some deep-p-p thinking-g-g.

On the basis of the nearly three years of evidence, we have witnessed the disturbing transformation of our good friend Dan Bianchi from a kindly political Dr. Jeckyll to a monstrous Mr. Hyde. Dan was and is too nice a guy for that to happen on its own. We feel sorry for this turn of events, because, if truth be told, we still love the guy.

THE PLANET thus concludes that his wife, Theresa, is playing the role of Lady McBeth behind the scenes, pushing him to act against his better judgment.  There’s no taming of the shrew in that household, apparently.

THE PLANET heard from several sources regarding the “love in” at the council meeting, including one who was the proverbial “fly on the wall,” and we don’t mean David Hedison. This being the age of cyberspace, it is nearly impossible to keep something hidden that involves more than two people. Thus, we received our reports.

The best explanation for the embarrassing demonstration at the meeting is that it was orchestrated by a committee of hens chaired by Lady McBianchi. In addtion to the chairwoman, the ad hoc committee, sources say, included Phyllis Smith, Diane Ferraro, Pummelin’ Pam Malumphy, and Melissa Mazzeo, with city solicitor Kathy Degnan and mayoral coffee maker Julia Sanbourin ex officio members. In short, it was a set-up, fully (though not convincingly) staged.

THE PLANET will have the full story on Monday.

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But enough of dreadful politics, and let us present two poems. The first is by one of our poetic heroes, the great Percy Shelley. The second is one of our own.

This is a fragment, rarely published, by Shelley. It reflects upon the universal experience of grief:

GRIEF: A FRAGMENT

By PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Silver key of the fountain of tears,
Where the spirit drinks till the brain is wild;
Softest grave of a thousand fears,
Where their mother, Care, like a drowsy child,
Is laid asleep in flowers. 

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Here is one of our own, equally as brief:

THE COVERUP

 By DAN VALENTI

Thrown like a hand-knit shawl

From an orphan’s grandmother,

We regroup, rise, and — after the fall —

Ask, “Where do our accusers hide?”

They won’t use their names

For, much to their shame, see identity

As accusation, though sacred.

In plain view they sully their souls,

Scared but not past exemption.

The knitted squares unfold — and we hold

The key to their redemption.

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Have a great weekend, everybody.

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“You made me cry when you said goodbye. Ain’t that a shame. Your the one to blame.” — Fats Domino, Cheap Trick, and other artists, “Aint That a Shame.”

“OPEN THE WINDOW, AUNT MILLIE”

LOVE TO ALL.