Sweet and Bitter Stuff of Wonder
Brought to you by Mary K
Robert posted Wednesday prompt 118 last Wednesday, yet – here it is now. A “trapped” poem.
***
trapped
within believing
thus, continuing towards a dull and thumping bump of wake up
*
trapped
within frustration
thus, paralysed during a possible flight towards a slashing wake up
*
trapped
within a soul
is a heart of softness and a solitude of tears
*
trapped
within that capsule
travelling across time and chance,
that govern over all.
Ето ги Ликвидаторите и на български език (преведено или пренаписано)
Ликвидаторите на Чернобил –
военни, служещи,
работници, миньори –
хора,
осемстотин хиляди живота
–
Погубени
някои на място – драматично,
други по-късно – паметно трагично,
трети – късно, по-късно, отчаяно и тъжно
–
Отидоха,
защото техните деца можеха да
играят, живеят и страдат
без тях дори.
–
А ние просто се възползвахме.
The plan was to write a sevenling, which is a seven-line poem structured in tercets and containing the element of three. Yet, the three-line nature of tercet and the three-someness induced me to make it contain three tercets, so it went out of form. For the Poetic form challenge I edited it, leaving out the second tercet. Here, however, I publish it in its entirety.
reservists, workers, coal-miners –
some eight hundred thousand lives
–
Wasted – some died on site,
some died within a month
and others lingered on, oh – so on,
–
Went there for their children
who could live on, and play, and mourn
without them even
–
While we just profited by it.
(а ние просто се възползвахме) where you will read the Bulgarian poem, which is not a sevenling.
Here is a cascade poem in English. Sooner or later, I will write one in Bulgarian, too, or at least will do my best to re-write or translate this one. The rules for this poem are simple: For the cascade poem, a poet takes each line from the first stanza of a poem and makes those the final lines of each stanza afterward. Beyond that, there are no additional rules for rhyming, meter, etc. Read more here
***
I saw the beach again
Its sand so cold and coarse and old
Then I remembered what it was
When I believed in ghosts
*
Not yesterday and not today,
brown autumn leaves and morning chill,
Then I awoke to that bright shock
I saw the beach again.
*
I simply walked alone downstairs
And found it still was there
Desolate at its old place
Its sand so cold and coarse and old
*
I wondered whether I was dreaming
Or maybe waiting for the gulls
To pluck at that sensation
Then I remembered what it was
*
The waves came crushing and forgiving
My sighs were spotted in the sand
As cold and nude as in the time
When I believed in ghosts
Here is another Pantoum. The first one- written in Bulgarian, is posted here. The rules of the poetic form are also there.
I put down one in English, too.
***
I got up, oh – so early.
And washed my face so briskly.
And then I thought, “Hey, girlie,
Let’s have a glass of whisky!”
–
I washed my face so briskly
and checked up in the cupboard.
“Let’s have a glass of whisky
and see what’s in the wardrobe!”
–
I checked inside the cupboard –
oh, there I met vast emptiness.
I saw what’s in the wardrobe –
there shone my stunning wedding dress!
–
This morning was my brand new start.
I got up, oh – so early.
Surprisingly I felt damn smart
And then I thought, “Hey, girlie!”
Walt Wojtanik, a poet submitting to the Poetic Asides forum and the founder of the micro poetry group in Facebook, recently put up this prompt:
A pantoum is a poetic form written as quatrains (4-line stanzas) with an abab rhyme scheme and repeat lines 2 and 4 in the previous stanza as lines 1 and 3 in the next stanza. Lines 1 and 3 in the first stanza become lines 2 and 4 in your last stanza (The order is up yo you) Keep the sixteen line limit for a nice four stanza pantoum.
Since I wrote it in Bulgarian, here it is. I will consider re-writing or translation in English later. As usual, it turned out bloodier and gorier than expected. Well, it came out as a 5-stanza one, too. Yet, another deviation. I am definitely planning to share it with my friends in the micro poetry group, even though it is not “micro” in any way. Yet, we all do this for the fun and inspiration of poeming and friendship.
***
Вчера сутрин станах рано
и измих си аз лицето.
Веждата ми бе одрана
имах белег на нослето.
–
И измих си аз лицето
и погледнах в огледалото –
имах белег на нослето
на чертички беше цялото.
–
И погледнах в огледалото –
боже, аз ли съм това?
на чертички беше цялото,
стичаше се там кръвта.
–
Боже, аз ли съм това?
гледах скръбно, ужасено.
Стичаше се там кръвта,
всичко беше тъй червено.
–
Вчера сутрин станах рано,
с намерение да пиша проза.
Веждата ми бе одрана –
поетична е прогнозата.
Yet another “completion” prompt from My Word Wizard of Twitter
On winter’s darkest days we
dream of summer haze
but not forgetting what it takes
to blow the snow away –
Time!
a “lesson learned” poem:
*****
What I learned
about coffee
is
you needed coffee
to actually make it good.
***
It seems I have omitted to publish my poem here.
The prompt was to write a “what is wrong or right” poem:
*****
What is right is never left.
But can a wrong be righted by a left-hand?
Who is fair is never dark.
But who is strong, is never wrong.
****
Here are some poems Orange wrote during her life of main character in my new novel “Orange Lemonpie of the First-Year Stars” which I wrote during NaNoWriMo this passing month of November. I still have some work on it, yet the frenzy is over.
Chapter VI
You see that carpet on the ground,
Which makes that cheerful sound?
Leaves fall and autumn turns them bright,
Each one – a feast for our sight.
–
Beneath each tree there is a quilt
Patch-work – it’s patterned beautif’lly.
Let’s go and see – it gives me thrills
To lie and dream in reverie.(*)
(*) – I edited that last line, as Orange herself did not like it. 😉
*
Chapter XX
Your eyes sweep me off
To the autumn forest
Where I fall asleep.
–
And your lips
Remind me of the
Autumn leaves
Which fly by
As days of wonder shuffle
Beyond my reason.
***
I have a vague feeling that the numbering is wrong… However, the novel is to be edited and perhaps translated.