The Somonka is a Japanese poetic form that is designed to be collaborative, so it is perfect that Imelda chose that as her challenge for Casting Bricks. A Somonka is a love poem in the form of two Tankas. One lover writes the first 5 lines and the other responds with a second Tanka. Imelda’s Tanka, Loss, is in bold and my response follows. Please forgive my incorrect usage of the language and my verbing of a noun.
Jilly’s August Challenge known as “Casting Bricks” is open to anyone who would care to join in; the more the merrier! There is a permalink on my right-hand side bar or you can click here for details.
Whoop! Day 28!!! A few days ago I was musing over the fact that so many of my poems are about nature, the moon, & etc. “Why don’t I write about something mundane, like that bent Road Work Ahead sign or a traffic light?” My mind composed this in the wee small hours and it seems a fitting finality to these amazing 28 Days of Unreason. Once again, the words of Jim Harrison from Songs of Unreason have been mind-expanding and a true source of inspiration. Thank you to all who have joined in, some every day and others as the muse prompts. Lynn, Charley & Qbit have been amazingly faithfull to the prompts and the light of my day for 28 of them. Jane has caught the fever as well as Frank, Jenna,Hank, Jeren, and NoStAugustine. Did I miss anyone? The response has overjoyed me! Where should we go next? Rilke? Whitman? (I need a vacation! LOL) Love Y’all! ~ Jilly
“Why does the mind compose this music well before the words occur?”
~ Jim Harrison
THE MAGI
Approaching,
I will the light,
“Stay green. Stay green.”
It yellows.
Red.
Mindjackers surround the car
wrench open my door
their mouths open
singing music
with words I
cannot hear,
the rib-spreader
in their Magus hands.
For Jilly’s August Challenge (Casting Bricks) it is my privilege to collaborate with Alison Hankinson – A Spoonful of Sugar to complete her wonderful Challenge poem entitled Hospital Birth. I have added two stanzas that more are mirrors from a different perspective rather than a continuation of the narrative, and added a word to the title, as well. Alison’s words are in bold.
With only one remaining day in the 28 Days of Unreason, this was one of the most difficult prompts for me to write from; there are many crumpled pages scattered round my feet. It worked best when I limited myself to the short form of Cinquain. Songs of Unreason has been a great source for these writing prompts. Here is today’s Harrison quote and my Cinquain in response:
“It is life’s work to recognize the mystery of the obvious”
Collaborative poetry has turned into a favorite for me as we move into the Casting Bricks August Challenge. I take up Jeren Nazuto’s Challenge to write an Interlocking Rubáiyát. The first half of the poem, in bold, is Jeren’s excellent groundwork which he entitled The End. Thank you to Jeren for introducing this terrific form! All are welcome to join us in the August Challenge where we write a half poem and our fellow poets complete it. Just click on the Casting Bricks side bar to the right→
The world, burning around me All the lands and the sea I weep in streams and rivers Over the fallen world tree
From the sins, the fire delivers The earth’s misguided caregivers And all the pain and suffering Fueling my body shivers
The sacrifice for my soul’s buffering
awakens, dries my tears unsuffering
the world may ash round my shoes
like fallen leaves, rustling
Lift my eyes, the horizon peruse
quell my fears, none to accuse
all glorious for eternity
body shivers there diffused
There are just a few remaining days in our 28 Days of Unreason. Songs of Unreason has provided us with a number of quotes about water; this one triggered a response directed at our author, hence my title for today, Dear Jim. Here is the line from Harrsion for today and my poem.
“The river can’t heal everything” ~ Jim Harrison
Dear Jim,
For seven eternities we have been water, moving water, searching for healing from these unclaimed sins and now you tell us.
The heavy-breasted mammatus clouds drifted over suburbia, sagging low in their nurturing way, all grey and worrisome, but the people were so glad the hateful storm had passed that no one noticed the seeds dropping; Dandelion Yellows, Pinkist Clover, Purple-Spike Thistle, cast over the carefully manicured lawns. No one noticed, at least until the next morning when the weeds began to spring forth with all the joy and vigor infused in their happy little petals by the sensuousness of the sky the night before. Squinting in the first glaring light of morning, Mandevilla backed out of her garage and a mask of sour-milk face leapt instinctively from the center of her brunette head. They must go, those invasive weeds! Just one more thing on her Eradicate-This! list for the day. She slammed her sunglasses on her face and machine-gunned the red SUV toward the highway. A giggle slipped from the garage in the corner where windshield washer fluid, weed killer and bleach stood in neatly aligned bottles. Bougainvillea stood still in the ceramic pot along the sidewalk, witness to it all. As the sun rose higher a breeze came too and she willed her dainty petals of melon softness to fall and blow, like summer drifting snow, across the drive and into the grass. Oh, the tales of woe they told to the Dandelion Yellows, who sprang forth in white seeds of indignation, whispering in song to the Pinkist Clover who shared the sad news with the Purple-Spike Thistle. Each joined in the singing with Bougainvillea’s blossoms, propagating seeds, crying out to the mother mammatus, now blown far away, sweet tears shed for a life-time as they swirled and twirled in the breath of the afternoon. The wings on which they had flown the night before left behind to scatter their progeny across those perfected lawns.
The closer I get to the end of the 28 Days of Unreason, the closer my writing is to the edge of sanity. Not me, mind you, just the poet’s voice. Here is the 24th line from Songs of Unreason and my poem, entitled Lest You Die.
“Nature has portals rather than doors” ~ Jim Harrison
Lillian is hosting Poetics over at dVerse where we are writing poetry using the word Shade. While the rest of the country is dealing with ‘heat waves,’ we here in Florida have temps over 90 every day from May to October. True Floridians look for a parking spot in the shade. There are never enough to go around. This is just a bit of quicky dashed fluff that I have written in the form of 4 Cinquains.
Still dark when we arrive which way is west again? Look for a spot under a tree that I
might have shade at two-thirty, I see Mr. Racecar Driver who steals my
normal spot under the skinny oak too few leaves to really call it shady I rush
and honk squealing tires shake my angry fist at him, I down-shift into second I win!
Jilly's 