Tag Archives: poetry

The Writer’s Desk – A Challenge from Spirit Lights the Way

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I rarely write poetry bb-wd01

 at my desk –

but prefer cafes,

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trains,

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wide open spaces,

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gardens,

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forests,

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whispering places –

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and on dark, stormy nights,

my bed,

next to cheeky faces

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😀

xxx

For a chance to win a great prize in Nancy’s challenge,

hop over to Spirit Lights the Way for details

Search Engine Poetry: Sweet Planet Poems

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She was the first blogger to make me laugh out loud, by asking me, on my About page, whether I was a man or a woman  – the question astounded me and was the beginning of my appreciation of the mind-altering value of blogging: the way others perceive us is often so different from the way we see ourselves.

Insightful and multi-talented, Monica of Sweet Planet Poems is one of my oldest blogging friends – and how grateful I am that she has stayed the distance! 🙂 She has a delightful sense of humour, a rare generosity of spirit and a passion for the natural world that infuses her enchanting blog and publications.

She is a tireless campaigner for the protection of wolves in their natural habitat and shares their mystique in her wonderful poems, videos and photos many of which she creates on her frequent trips to Yellowstone National Park.

Monica has woven this delightful found poem in response to my Search Engine Poetry Challenge – I see it as a mirror of all the good in her heart (even the “picking up dog poop” line. :-D)

xxx

And here are a few of my favourite posts on Sweet Planet Poems:

Wild Wolf Encounters – this post is a free download of Monica’s wonderful collection of poetry on wolves.

Homeward Bound

With Patton in Germany

Mathematics of the Heart

City Skin

Spiral Rings

René Who?

Thanks for participating, dear Monica

😀

Divine Dementia

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So many days
we are beyond bereft

at some ancient
god’s puzzled mumbles
beneath the night lamp,

his tremulous finger-fumbles
with jigsaw fragments
of our lives,

his fearful look of surprise
at the countless missing pieces
of his Master Plan,

unaware of the devil dog
chewing at his feet.

http://www.nytimes.com/2012/12/16/nyregion/gunman-kills-20-children-at-school-in-connecticut-28-dead-in-all.html?hp&_r=0

http://jmgoyder.com/2012/12/15/children/

http://nrhatch.wordpress.com/2012/12/14/an-unblossomed-bloom/

http://thelaughinghousewife.wordpress.com/2012/12/15/no-humour-today/

http://susandanielspoetry.com/2012/12/14/body-bags/

Weekend Prompt: Childhood Revisited

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It wasn’t smells or tastes or dear old Patchy,
or Teddy or Polly or clothes that were scratchy,

but bright orange blossoms beaming out from my walls,
retro symbols of happiness from ceiling to floor –
my first bedroom’s wallpaper sticks like glue
in my mind to this day  (my sibling’s too –
at the time they thought he had chronic colic
but, it seems, brother’s wall-art was making him sick –
all those racing-cars whizzing about his head
(he confessed, years later) made him dizzy in bed).

So my first memory – wallpaper, and subtropical heat,
and the tickles of mum’s kisses under my feet.

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In response to the Daily Post’s Weekend Prompt: Childhood Revisited – What is your earliest memory? Describe it in detail, and tell us why you think that experience was the one to stick with you.

Search Engine Poetry: The Laughing Housewife

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My linguistics professor would call it “spooky action at a distance“, and, indeed, it is a sort of blogging quantum entanglement, a weird close encounter of the blogging kind.

I speak of The Laughing Housewife, a.k.a. Tilly Bud.

Not that I’m saying Tilly’s weird, you understand (although once you’ve read her Search Engine Poem, you might disagree) – what I’m referring to is the strange coincidence that although we’ve never met, and know of each other only through our blogging connection, twenty years ago we were in the very same room at the very same time. (You’ll have to read this post’s comments if you want to know more).

So, anyway, what to say about Tilly?

A monumental intellect, a resilience that’s instructive, and a sense of humour that can shine a light through the darkest disposition. Nothing can wipe the smile off her face.

Quite like a worldwide shortage of Maltesers (I suspect this (second photo) was one of those times),
dodgy punctuation and grammar (any evidence of this in her found poem below is purely intentional),
or sycophants and flatterers (“no Maltesers for you!“).

She loves to cook, dance, sing, and do I’m-not-going-to-ask-what to the long-suffering Hub. 

But we forgive her all that ;-), because, besides making us laugh and being a loving mother, Tilly is an accomplished poet.

Not only has her poetic talent been showcased in poetry journals and other interesting places, but she’s also about to release what promises to be a very interesting book of poetry memoir, and has another (on poo) in the pipeline ;-).

In the meantime, here’s her entry to my Search Engine Poetry challenge.
(Warning – not suitable for those suffering from Chaetophobia)

girls that dont shave

a found poem for Bluebee

irish women don’t shave
welding women don’t shave
freak americans don’t shave

hairy women armpits
bushy sweaty arm pits
kerala housewife armpits

air in armpits, girls

————————-Thanks, Tilly! 😀 (let’s hope you never find yourself in the same room as these internet-search weirdos)———-

Weekly Writing Challenge: A Splash of Colour

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the colours of my week

my laptop gave me

the black screen of death,

without it, no silver

to keep out of the red,

my face was white,

my language was blue,

the week took on a greyish hue,

but then three techies with hearts of gold

coloured me back from this online cold,

so things looks rosy, I’m back in the pink –

Geeks of the world, to you I drink!

************************************************************************************

For more entries to this week’s writing challenge, visit the Daily Post.

Search Engine Poetry: Gabrielle Bryden

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Blogging friend, sublime poet, awesome mom and aspiring volcanologist Gabrielle Bryden has posted this found poem on her blog in response to my Search Engine Poetry challenge.

I met Gabrielle in my early days of blogging and LOVE her poetry, which ranges from the serious to the hilarious.

She also keeps us entertained with posts about her life in Queensland with her hero – Shirl, son – Michael, daughter – Tessa, and comical dogs – Jazz and Sheba, and with her photos of the weird and wonderful critters we find on this strange continent.

She has a wicked sense of humour (read her post tags) and a fighting spirit (I wouldn’t want to mess with her ;-)).
And in the 80s, she had Big Hair.

Gabrielle’s son, Michael, was diagnosed with Autism spectrum disorder at the age of 3 and she has used her experience to create an excellent resource on dealing with the challenges of Autism and Asperger’s.

Last week, Michael turned 12 and, despite the challenges he has faced, is doing very well.  He takes great photos and is shaping up to be a talented horticulturalist.

Oh, and did I mention I love Gaberielle’s poetry?
Here are links to just a few of my favourites

Skin Deep

Decanting a Poem

Campaign Trail

In all innocence

Ransom Note Poetry – (Listen Up Gina)

Brisbane River

There is a Place

The Force of Gravity

OCD Logic

Thanks, Gabe!

😀

Search Engine Art – Bénédicte Delachanal

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Wonderfully talented artist Bénédicte Delachanal has posted this marvellously creative and witty response to my Search Engine Poetry challenge on her blog CARNET DE DESSINS/Bénédicte’s blog.

Hop over and have a look – it will brighten your day.

Thanks, Bénédicte – I love it 😀
(and would love to see your artistic interpretation of “non living things never alive”!)

I met Bénédicte through blogging (thanks Gabe) and have since done business with her, buying a number of her artworks as gifts for friends. She is an absolute pleasure to deal with.

Below are links to some of my favourite posts on Bénédicte‘s blog:

Bloomington Theater and Art Center

Drawing a City

Venezia in Digital Colours

Poisson Pas Content

Drawing the Mind

The Hours of the Day

Mood of Colours

Tintin Meets Spielberg

Hou Hou

Blogging is a never-ending treasure hunt!

The Man in the Street

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How often
is he there
in front of you?

Just another bloke
like you

except, perhaps,
a lack of personal hygiene

or its pathological opposite,

his way of regarding you
far too directly
without blinking

for the longest time.

When he asks for a cigarette
do you oblige

in spite of yourself?

Because in this stark room
you cannot reconcile
the rhetoric

on the face of it –

just another human being
in the silence,

no manifest difference
to teach the rookies,

no monster in plain sight
to slay with a bedside light,

just this banality
of evil

sitting in the corner
of your nightmares.

————————-

Search Engine Poetry

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???????????????????????????????

orange worm in mandarin

bluebee militant

???????????????????????????????

people’s shadows

picture of non living things never alive

????????????????????????????????????????

what is hoohoooo

Richard Dawkins

???????????????????

large hadron collider

subatomic beauty

?????????????????????

People look up some weird stuff, don’t they? (Just ask Tilly :))

So, a fun challenge for you this weekend – in the tradition of  Book Spine Poetry, create a Search Engine Poem of your own (or an artwork, Benedicte and Renee),  send me the link and we’ll have a vote on the weirdest and wackiest at the end of  the weekend.

To see all the search engine terms that found your blog in the last 30 days, go to Stats > Search Engine Terms > Summaries > 30 Days

PS –  how would one say  “orange worm” in Mandarin? The Good Greatsby, can you perhaps enlighten us? 🙂

Pedestrian

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For a moment,
they bob,

these dull black balloons,

tethered to the traffic lights
in stringtime contemplation,

hermetic thoughts
jostle and tangle,
in colourless mirror-image
inscrutability,

safe
to dream themselves red-hot
airships unleashed,

cerulean adventures
aloft a blue-moon day.

xxxxxxx

Wonderfully talented photographer Madelaine Cappuccio has teamed my poem ‘Pedestrian’ with one of her beautiful balloon photos over at her blog, Images by Madelaine Cappuccio.

Thanks, Madelaine 😀

The Same By Any Other Name

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Names of affection,
(Little Eddie, Sweet Baboo)

projection and deflection,
(Camille, Flame, Agapanthus)

colours and food,
(Pumpkin, Bean, Red, Blu)

some, unmentionably rude 😉

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Prompted by this post at Go Jules Go

Weekly Photo Challenge: Inside

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Trapped inside a system of prejudice

South African Pass Laws

Yellow Badge

Palestinian Freedom of Movement

The Stolen Generations

Jim Crow Laws

Judenhut

Ethnic Cleansing

A re-posted poem –

Death Cap

Iniquity, depravity
crimes against humanity.

Conflagration, radiation,
man made this abomination.

Enormity, deformity,
war’s enduring legacy.

Experimentation, humiliation –
Who needs victim’s approbation?

Cessation, condemnation?
War has no such aspiration.

Obliteration, extermination,
then,
our final destination.

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For more entries to this week’s photo challenge, see The Daily Post at WordPress.com

Weekly Photo Challenge: Dreaming

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For me, dreaming is about possibilities, and none so wonderful as those brought by travel.

I became a xenophile at around the time I started school, and dreamt of going to live in exotic places, mostly Japan and rural China, and of flying off to wonderful cities, such as London, Tokyo,  Amsterdam and Marrakech. Years on, and living in a different country, I’m grateful that I’ve been fortunate enough to travel to many parts of the world, and to have experienced incredible adventures and fascinating cultures as a result.

And the dreaming continues – I’ve yet to get to Japan or China 😀

To dream is to travel: to travel is to realize a dream

On these themes, a re-post of a poem I wrote a while ago –

Dreams of a Love Gourmand

He ate Suzi’s paella

and dreamed of Impanema,

of romance in Marbella

and Rio de Janeiro

–

He ate Fleur’s rindless blue,

his dreams were psychedelia,

he dreamt he was Theroux,

da Vinci and Ophelia

–

He drank Ping’s green absinthe

and dreamt he was a fairy

with eyes as green as minthe,

his wand, a blue canary

–

He ate Fang’s chou dofu,

her durian, then balut,

and napped as King Shi Chu

at war with King Canute

–

He ate Ann’s cherry duck,

nightmared of Gordon Ramsay,

who served confit of muck

with jus of some philandery

–

Then came Maeve’s Irish Stew,

no dreams his sleep disturbed

and as he woke he knew

his food of love’d been served

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And for the Aboriginal peoples of Australia, Dreaming has a very special meaning – it encompasses beliefs about the origins of the earth, the stars and all living things, and the connections that exist between them, and is brought alive in wonderful stories, art and music. You can read more about the Dreaming and the Dreamtime here.

For more entries to this week’s photo challenge, see The Daily Post at WordPress.com

HooHoooo (or, as they say in French, Hou Hou) – for Gabrielle Bryden and Bénédicte Delachanal

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A poem for friends Gabrielle Bryden (sublime poet and lover of owls), who is currently fighting the dreaded winter lurgy,
and Bénédicte Delachanal (fabulous artist), who crafted these wonderfully funky owl paintings.

 The Comfort of Owls

From tsunami dreams
We bolt upright
And heart and breath
Race to the death
To drown out silence
Of dead hours
And throw us wide-eyed
To the night.

Then, faint, through darkness
Comes strange calm
To tension-wired
Synapse and bone,
The ebb and flow
Of delta waves,
Like a mother’s kiss,
Floats softly down
In owl’s low call,
Primal and deep,
Submersing us
In tides of sleep.

xx

For more things owl, check out Owls on WordPress and YouTube.

Dilettantes of Disaster

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The shadows draw long
through our limbs,
impoverished pulses from
indolent hearts carve us
tragic sinkholes for eyes; we are sallow
spectres in the night–
mirror, painting ourselves
in dishwater tincture
for dream-time, a sludge palette
 of effete sorrow.

Until abstraction
manifests from the canvas
and chokes us by the throat,
we do not know gratitude.