Sep 14 2007

Blight…

Tag: My poetrycerebralmum @ 12:03 am

The 8th assignment from 30 poems in 30 days… Elegies and memories…

“Write an elegy about a person or event that is meaningful to you. You don’t necessarily have to approach the most tragic event in your life. Don’t try to take on an event that is still too difficult for you to deal with. Look for something that you can handle. “

Blight

We planted wisteria for you
last week
in cold, loamy soil.
It is dormant now,
awaiting your arrival.

Full bellied,
hands resting
on the curve of you,
she said as a child would
-This week
we’re growing teeth.

The next day
he turns the echo
away from her,
he says
-There is no yolk.

You never divided
to become one of us.

It falls to me
to keep a silent vigil
while she rides
the contractions of your passing,
to boil water,
make useless tea,
remove blood-stained towels
as you seep into the sheets
before her drained
and empty slumber.

In early spring
long racemes of purple
will hang above our doorway
but we can never
bring you home.

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Sep 13 2007

Barcelona…

Tag: My poetrycerebralmum @ 8:23 pm

The fifth assignment from 30 Poems in 30 Days . Persona poems…

“Write a persona poem that incorporates one of the past two concepts. It should either address a social issue or it should provide a strong sense of place. One great way to do the latter is to write a poem in a public place, and to observe the people around you until you find someone interesting that you can imagine a back-story for.”

Barcelona

Eulalia held my hands,
held my head
to her breast,
said,
Don’t go out there.

I looked for Alfredo
amongst the debris
of our hope,
each
body was his.

There was little milk,
the mothers went hungry
for two years
while
Franco came.

I was a restless girl,
then a revolutionary,
I grew old
when
Spain arrived.

Again, I had to sit on this one. If you are reading the comments over at The Writer’s Resource, who is hosting this project, you’ll see that I am not the only one and for all the same reasons.

For some reason Eminem’s Slim Shady kept invading my head while I tried to think of a persona to take on. I really didn’t want to write anything like that.

In the end, I fell back on a short story I wrote years ago at university; a fictional account of the Spanish Civil War which is a subject I care about deeply.

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Sep 10 2007

It’s all in the pitch, bitch…

Tag: My poetrycerebralmum @ 5:05 pm

The third assignment from 30 Poems in 30 Days. Writing about issues…

“Find a news or opinion article that was published on the web this week. I recommend using Google News because it can take you just about anywhere. Look for a story that has some emotional or philosophical impact on you and use that story as the basis for your poem”

I love men.
I love the stillness of them
Their lack of agitation
When they shake off
Their workaday
Clothes

Their ability to not
Talk, to not repeat
Their thoughts
Over and over again
Their lack
Of doubt.

Men are peaceful.
But there are times
When they need
To think beyond
Their words
Beyond

Other men’s words
Times they need
To see the
Queen trapped
In the corner
Of the chessboard

While they laugh
Albeit humourlessly
At another joke
At the Queen’s
Expense
While she shrivels

Beneath the gaze
And turns to ivory.
Women talk
But men hear
Men’s voices
Like dogs

It’s all
In the pitch,
Bitch.
When they
Are not funny
Why won’t you
Snarl at them?

The news story I chose, Sexual harassment in Wadadli - Where do we draw the line? The key lines are, “Have we then as men and women facilitated an environment where people get away with such deeds that to some this has become the norm? Or is sexual harassment a cultural phenomenon that has to be defined according to the socialisation of the men and women in that environment?”

I think that men have a greater responsibility than women to speak up when other men cross the line, a greater responsibility to criticise their friends and colleagues openly. To not do so silently confirms that men think it is okay for men to objectify women.

My message to men: Your silence enables other men to continue to feel respected by the only people they respect. It is the tip of the iceberg and it is a slippery slope. If your mates are allowed to get away with this, what else do they think they can get away with?

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Sep 09 2007

Child in tow…

Tag: My poetry, My poetrycerebralmum @ 5:15 pm

The fourth assignment from 30 Poems in 30 Days . Poetry of place…

Get out of the house and write in a new place. Write about the place you choose to go to. Don’t just rely on what you see. Describe the smells, the tastes and the sounds if you can. Try to give your readers a full picture of the place you choose.

I have discovered
you cannot write
a poem
at the beach

with child in tow
with sand in fist
with weak waves lapping
still cold

with gulls crying
with hand tugged
while watching
first wet feet.

You cannot write
a poem
at the beach
when it is

new and seen
with new eyes
fixated on the sand
the texture

the damp sinking
movement
beneath pink
feet.

Not while you
teach him
to shake and shake
it off

teach him not
to eat it
point to birds
point

to waves
to people
unseen by eyes
fixated.

You have to cheat
and write
when he is home
in bed.

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Sep 07 2007

Start to speak…

Tag: My poetry, My poetrycerebralmum @ 11:50 pm

The second assignment from the 30 Poems in 30 Days project. Writing about yourself…

“Write about an event in your life that happened within the past week. Take some time to think about the week and look for event that has some emotional meaning for you, but not so much that it would be painful for you to write about. Sometimes smaller moments have more meaning.”

Each afternoon
the swing the slide
before he sleeps

And in the park
each afternoon
girl not yet two

Her mother’s hair
skin, full lips bright
each afternoon.

We start to speak
smile, move away
obliged and small

He watches girl
we start to speak
my silent boy

I can’t explain
girl crying mine
we start to speak.

I say my name
then she says hers.

We start to speak
each afternoon.

Hmm. I don’t know if I like this one. I said yesterday’s was hard and I thought there was a specific reason but I think the specific reason is that I am a rusty, rusty woman. It feels very forced to me. Consciously limiting what to write, both the content and the form is difficult.

But I know it’s good exercise so I’m still not going to apologise.

Who knows, tomorrow I might like it.

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Sep 07 2007

Drought…

Tag: My poetry, My poetrycerebralmum @ 1:22 am

The first assignment from the 30 Poems in 30 Days project.

“Write a poem about your childhood. Explore an actual event that had some emotional significance to you. Avoid using any description of how you felt about the event then or how you feel about it now. Instead, try to make the emotion of the event come through in your descriptions of what happened.”

Drought

every day is summer
violent, unrelenting
barefoot and I am running
black tar, the road is melting
dry heat, the air is shaking
burnt skin and I am flying
down the road, the tar is sticking

every day is summer

passed the pubs, the men are drinking
passed the shops, shopkeepers idling
passed the town, the road is widening
through dry fields, tobacco dying
along dirt tracks, the dust is moting
then the shade, the trees are standing
by the river, water calling
water cool and dark and greening

every day is summer

I slide in and I am smiling
and the days are never ending
until the rain comes, then the flooding

every day is summer

I thought I’d keep my commentary until after the poem. I never read the introduction first. I like to make up my own mind.

All I have to say, really, is that I found this extraordinarily hard. My childhood memories are nebulous so trying to find a subject which I could limit to pure description was a challenge. It’s been a long time and I’m sure this won’t win any prizes but I don’t feel as though I have to apologise for it.

I like it. I like the rhythm and I like that, to me at least, it conveys something about growing up in Australia.

So, that’s one down. 29 to go.

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