Sarah Connor’s Challenge Poem for September’s Casting Bricks posed a beautiful dilemma as I felt her portion of the work had a most satisfying wholeness about it. Here is my completion of her Ghosts at My Table, with her words in bold.
there are ghosts at my table tonight I write, not mentioning that my table is a pale rectangle of wood, so that perhaps you picture your own table, round, white, plastic – or a dark mahogany oval, and your ghosts are the dark ring left by a wine bottle, the last time you had dinner with a long lost lover, or the scorched place where you set down a pan too quickly, the day you heard that news about your sister, while mine are the assorted stains and scratches left by my children as they leave their childhood, not quite ghosts, waiting to fade.
eye glimmers of that wistful
year when the youngest
fell through the ice
yet returned to sit
on the OED to reach
the pudding and meat;
flickers of damp lashes
at the giving-away altar,
wondering if it were joy
or sorrow; apparitions
that slip into the chairs
round the smaller meals
each night and hover, seamless
visions lingering long after
dishes are clattered and wiped
from my vision and I, wavering
The September edition of Casting Bricks to Attract Jade, our collaborative writing challenge, is drawing to a close, but since the links don’t expire, all are welcome to take the writing plunge. I roll out the October Challenge on Friday, the 6th!!! Looking forward to fresh and zany collaborations once again. Everyone is welcome and encouraged to contribute a half-poem challenge or pose a Renga challenge, finding something to spark your imagination. ~Cheers! Jilly
Taking up the Challenge from Colin Lee, here is my completion of his Vernal Flutter. I invite you all to join in with the Casting Bricks September Challenge where we collaborate and enjoy each other’s work. There are nearly 2 weeks remaining in the September Challenge. (I will roll out the October Challenge on Friday, October 6th.) All are welcome!
I have kept Colin’s rhyme scheme and, hopefully, his voice in this. His words are in bold.
Awake my soul into a dream A dream of robins’ poetry Whereon tickly fluff of dandelions rhymes And in silken crepuscular rays the verses stream I hear a heartbeat Dripping warm dewdrops of mead Into the wind Into her melodies of angelic sweet
Awake my soul to a poet’s scheme A scheme of heron’s rhymes Whereon snail’s spherical shells imagery curves And in nocturnal dreams are lunar beams I hear a wingbeat Echoing soft reverberations of sweet wine Into my core Into her descants spring is complete.
Care to join us in the September Challenge? We would love to have you jump on board! Follow the link above or click on the permalink on my right-hand side bar. Post a challenge of your own and / or complete a challange already there. It’s great fun!
Here is the collaborative effort of Frank / Jilly. Franks words are first and in bold.
Autumn changes focus on school schedules and condo movements, but now for our children, not for us. It’s the same with Spring. In between these events, like sunlight going through the leaves of trees, there is viewing the lake and parkways where trees can reach for the sun because the buildings are small enough for them to have a chance.
LIGHT THROUGH PATIENT TREES
BUILDINGS BLOCK THE AUTUMN SKY
BOTH PROVIDE COOL SHADE
Winter’s white focus turns our thoughts back to days of sleds and clotted mittens, to damp bangs flattened against the foreheads of red-tinged faces in our children. Late December vacations and gleeful Christmas mornings, where the lights of the tree filter through the windows and the children are still small enough for them to have a chance.
Taking up Charley’s Casting Bricks Challenge. He called the first half a ‘faux madrigal,’ and being one who enjoyes forms, I carried it forward into a full madrigal. His part is actually fairly close to a true madrigal. (I must admit that I was tempted to take his last line and go into erotic poetry since he left that up to interpretation, but I behave my little poet-self. Now, if he had said ‘burgeoning sword…’) His lines are in bold.
I am but a minstrel, a singer of songs. A righter of wrongs. And I sing to make my mistress happy. And I sing to bring her peace. When my voice and my lute do not suffice, I unsheathe my sword And I become….
My songster warrior, strong
enough to battle the dark
night of my soul, slash away
criminals; breaking, entering,
raping the peace, throwing stones
waking me harsh with mutters
throwing stones at the shutters.
Jilly’s Challenge poem for Casting Bricks September Challenge. I wrote this more than a week ago and have been wondering just where to take it from here. Guess I’ll just leave it to y’all to complete it! Come on over to Casting Bricks where all poets are welcome to join in on the challenge of writing Collaborative Poetry!
drifting into the Vanguard
in ’61, Trane blows a blue-bottle
fly into my silken ear
through the streets
allowing a taxi
to precipitate me
home where I have never been