take my hand
walk with me
through these corridors
where numbered
doorways
stairways
elevators
slide past us
in dull tones
of blue and beige
of grey and sage
hold tight my hand
run with me
through these hallways
until the flat surfaces
begin to blur
until
the doors become
ears of corn
the tiles
roll into clods
of dirt
the fluorescent lights
turn into the moon
they were
meant to be
and
we run
through
the fields
letting
the
wet leaves
slap us
across
our
cool faces
and
we laugh
forgetting
our
names
© Jilly’s All Rights Reserved
Join me tonight at dVerse Poet’s Pub where I am hosting Poetics and we will be writing Wild. !!!
Jilly's 
Nice idea about those fluorescent lights turning into the moon. Also nice quote by Wilde for the wild prompt.
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Much appreciated, Frank. I’m a big fan of Wilde’s writing.
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I love Oscar Wilde. Such a wise man. And yes, let’s run until the doors turn into rows of corn.
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Glad you joined in on that theme.
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Thank you for the really wild prompt, Jill! As I read your poem, I visualised it and love the way it took me slowly through the corridors – the shape looks like staircases and it slows the reading. The second stanza started to speed up, with its short lines and blur of colour. And then we started to run and suddenly there were ears of corn, clouds and moon! Dreamlike and very visual!
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Thanks, Kim! Some days I want to run through the halls at school and take flight with the eagles outside.
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🙂
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This reminded me of Candy in Clive Barker’s Abarat, leaving her awful town, just walking into the fields, then into the ocean and on to Abarat. That was one wild journey!
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Clive Barker! His illustrations are the epitome of wild!
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They are! I love the atmosphere of his story too.
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This left me breathless, such a rush. I think it’s great. I love the feeling of motion and change.
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Thanks, Sarah! We all need a bit of wild running without limits these days.
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This is great and it captures movement beautifully!
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Much appreciated, Jo!
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A break from the monotony of predictable stairs — bravo! These lines were just perfect:
“the fluorescent lights
turn into the moon
they were
meant to be”
I like how your poem effectively created the needed transformation right before my eyes. Thanks for the prompt, Jilly!
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My pleasure and thanks for your generous comments 🙂
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You make “Wild” sound so fun!!
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Thanks! And I do it all from the comfort of my easy chair 😉
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Oh, you have written this so well, Jilly! What a great turn to the wild — corn running in the night. I love the metamorphosis from staid hallway to children-inundated rows. Awesome!
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Thanks! It’s based on something from my childhood that is as sharp as if it just happened.
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It read like it!
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I love the idea of being so inebriated with freedom that you forget your own name–beautiful!
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Thank you!
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kaykuala
letting
the
wet leaves
slap us
across
our
cool faces
and
we laugh
forgetting
our
names
How nice Jilly, to throw it all to the winds and be wild and carefree. Thanks for the prompt, Ma’am!
Hank
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Thank you, Hank! Nice to see you here, sir.
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I love the freedom expressed in your poem. The wild abandon of youth!
dwight
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And the wild abandon of age, as well. All hail Peter Pan! 😉
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No time to stop now, eh!
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As a child I climbed trees; still monkeying around 🙂
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“we laugh forgetting our names” – beautiful. I like how the poem limbers up and then lengthens its stride sleek and fast. Can we run with scissors too?
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Highly encouraged, and any other rules you care to break.
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LOL, you know what a bad idea it is to encourage me!
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I have been told that my greatest talent is encouraging bad behavior. Grab those scissors and perhaps a ball-peen hammer, and run with it!
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I feel it all!
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Yay!
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this is a journey itself, a wild but beautiful one.
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Thank you!
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you’re welcome!
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Going wild is a leap, as you do here. Uncorsetting with all the energy that will not be bound. I loved the fresh joy of this.
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Thank you !
Brendan, I notice that your link in dVerse is broken. The Linky for Poetics is open for another 24 hours or so, so you can re-link.
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Oh yes! There is definitely a letting go in this —the movement from the mundane to the carefree to the wild. Especially like that fluorescent light’s transformation!
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I know! If only we could make those pesky lights actually do that! Thanks for dropping by to read. Enjoy your time in the District!
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fabulous fantasy trip of skipping school and finding free time – I love the moment the pace starts to “slide past us
in dull tones
of blue and beige
of grey and sage”
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Thank you! Is it stilled called ‘skipping’ if it’s the teacher who runs off? 😉
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They call that “Earned Time Off” around here, but if you skip on your way out the door you can still call it skipping. 😉
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I call it a Mental Health Day 😉
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I forgot my name in reading! Yours is one of those few poems where the layout of the words, in as much as the words themselves, help transport me some place else.
Cheers,
Mark
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Thank you, Mark! Glad you stopped by to read 🙂
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I love your moon – great poem
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Thank you, Irene! Glad you found the Poet’s Pub!
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I think, but I am not sure, that you have just turned us all into Wild Mustangs. (whinnies, snorts, stamps the ground). This reminded me of the joy and wildness in Ursula LeGuin’s “Horse Camp” Could somebody pass the oats please…? (Super pace and thrill in this poem!)
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Oh, we are going to have fun!
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I had such vivid images in my mind while reading this. It was like a dream–maybe sort of nightmare-ish at first–but then happy. I suppose if you are living in a nightmare, it’s good to forget your names and start over. (Or turn into wild mustangs.) 🙂
Love the Wilde wild quote.
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Thanks! Running in cornfields at night is the most dream-like experience you can have while awake.
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I read cornfields as cornflakes at first. . .time for bed. 🙂
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Ooo… I may have to write a poem about running through cornflakes. Surrealism rocks!
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Go for it, Jilly! 🙂
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oh would love to run….beautiful!
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SMiLeS Not only does the World
Need More Feral Poet Odes to:
Pan of the Wild FoRest From:
WildFiRE FLoWeRS
oF MaY
LiTeRaLLy
MoRE PaN
WiLL Do aLL iN
Naked Poetry DaY NoW
oF God FReED as Nature
DanceS AnD SingS A Wild oF aLL..
Thanks Jilly for this Prompt i wouldn’t
MisS iT
For
A
PriSon
oF PoeTry
WitHouT A SouL..:)
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Your words are weepably beautiful and I am touched. : ) Thank you, thank you, thank you!
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A very Jilly poem for this Jilliest of prompts! Love the nod to Sendak with the parts of the building becoming the wild. I like especially that final idea of running so wild that you forget your names. 🙂
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You know me so well, my friend. Thank you!
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Simply brilliant, Jilly!
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Wonderful post, thanks!
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