Tag Archives: fairy tale

Day 06 — been a weird couple of months 

A list poem, that in turn, contains several ideas/lines that might themselves become their own poems this month.

the weird love, 

the tyrannical distance,
the disparate time zones,
the clashing schedules,
the near twenty years,
the roller coaster that never coasts,
the bicoastal bipolar,
the unromantic romance,
the life-is-not-a-fairytale,
the beautiful beast,
the beastly beauty,
the attractive repulsion,
the anxious agony,
the unmated souls,
the singing universe,
the sparkling shiver, 
the cold silence,
the nagging thorn,
the out-of-sync hearts,
the half-made promise,
the broken chain,
the joke that bombed,
the unequal exchange,
the one word reply,
the stranger in the bed,
the intimate inmate inside the head,
the reluctant endearments,
the belligerent confessions,
the definitions of love,
the expectations on love,
the ramifications if it is love,

the very real ghost of another …

Day 30 – poem about you

the_forest_whispers_sanguine_CROP

Thankfully NaPoWriMo 2017 has come to an end, for although I enjoy it, it’s always a relief when it’s over.

A couple of choices today from the things I’ve played with. One was a love poem in fragments. One about how country towns don’t exist anymore. Another about the city, under lights. All of which I’ve sort of done before (or variations of). So I’ve gone with something a little bit different: a “sequence” (?) of very short poems which all came out about the same time & all seemed to be semi-tenuously linked. Once I noticed they were coming I applied a 5 line rule to them, & re-edited them all into second person. Originally there were 10. Here are the best:

5 modern mini-faery tales where you are the star

i.
Using your red brolly
you hitched a ride
to the sky
to walk upon
the live wires of electricity

ii.
You carry a swarm
in your bloodbrown hair
ready to sting
all who displease you
into submission

iii.
You catch clouds in a jar
high above the trees
never thinks about how
it just
seems to happen

iv.
You wear ribbons
at your wrists, ankles & neck
all tied tight
to stop your appendages
falling off

v.
After teaching your elephant
to lift you on her trunk
you’ll focus on
tandem bikeriding
(once it’s been reinforced)

Day 08 – poem about gifts

Blue_Moon_CROP

Arrrggghhh! Can’t seem to shake this subject. Despite several poems worked on today, the two I was considering for today’s post somehow didn’t seem to stack up, so had to go for this fallback. New subject matter tomorrow, I promise (I hope).

the gifts of the luni

every night the moon leaves me gifts
like a cat depositing nightkill on my mat

this week on the wall by the back door
a rectangular jewel box, waiting to be buried

above the kitchen blind, a sliver of laser light
as i stumble out for an insomniacal glass

repainting the window in my bedroom
into a mirror which reflects undreamt dreams

on the drive home it rezones the countryside
into a dimension far beyond the fourth

even its gilding of the boxangular city
until it is almost beautiful enough

to star in its own fairy tale

Day 20 – All the Games, All at Once

Today was Day 3 of my Poet’s Residence (yep, already 3/4 of the way through it) & it was a wonderful day. When I arrived there was already someone waiting to start (Christine), and within a minute Kim arrived (I had spoken to him last week & he came back to participate this week). Within an hour, both had written quite lovely poems. Kim said he will post his on his blog. I hope he does & if so, I will link to it.

Neither Christine or Kim could stay for the whole session, but overall I had five people in today, including my friend & fellow poet Sarah Radford, who whipped off a wonderful poem based on the Last Line (Gone) of one of the books Kim chose (“bleed like me” was the line.) Kim also wrote a great poem using that prompt. My “bleed like me” poem, however, needs further work before I’ll share it.

The day ended with another new arrival, Rohan – who created in under an hour, a very sparse, elegant landscape poem which he also promised to put on his blog.

I also wrote a poem I was extreeeeeeeeeemmmmllllllllllllllllllllllyyyyyyyyy pleased with (tentatively called lift, the title’s the main thing that needs tweaking). I’m not sharing that one day here, but will read it next week during the performance phase of my final day.

But here’s the one I will share. It was made by combining the games Judging a Book By Its Cover, Last Line (Gone) & even, First Line to End It.

game of thorns

to live a life — where you are happy — more often — than you are not — where the jagged thorns — don’t puncture skin — too often — where your world is framed — by bramble — hidden away — in a castle — long ago abandoned — by disney — where the darkness — reflects — where stars salt the sky — where the cold — is sharper than sleep — where the zig zag path — always leads — to the crescent moon — & where — ‘once upon a time’ — actually meant something

thorn closeup CROP

Games played with the cover, first line & last line of Spinning Thorns by Anna Sheehan (reworking of the Sleeping Beauty fairy tale). Last line: “And that really is all anyone can hope for” & first line: “once upon a time”.

Day 12 – The Art of the Tale

I have been reading a few  fairy tales most recently Scandinavian ones from East of the Sun and West of the Moon: Old Tales from the North (1914). This edition is gloriously illustrated by Kay Nielsen.

Today’s poem is breaking more than one of my self-imposed ‘rules’ – 1) it is not a cover image & 2) more than one illustration has inspired it. But given the rules are mine, I figure I can change em as I see fit.

fairy tale

she is the girl who understands
what the birds say when they sing
& if she has bad dreams, pretty birds
snatch them from her & fly away

she is the girl who can move
the moon with her eyes alone
& if her soul feels empty
stars come in close to comfort

she is the girl who dances with fairies
under leaves of endless autumn
& if her true love ever breaks her heart
they will torment him till his grave

she is the girl i loved & lost
once upon a time, long long ago

mooneyes

NOTE: image is a detail of she could not help setting the door a little ajar, just to peep in, when — Pop! out flew the Moon (pg 67) from East of the Sun and West of the Moon illustrated by Kay Nielsen (1914)

Day 11 – In the forest

Not  a poetry book today. I was taken by the cover of A. S. Byatt’s Little Black Book of Stories which I am reading on & off as the mood takes me. It took me today & I went, hmmm…

the trees delusion

a red carpet of leaves
leads into the forest
bright path into
darkness — above
my head either mist
or smoke or both

all those roads begun
but never completed
years of wandering
lost while everyone else
is getting where they
think they want to go

one day my less travelled
will pay off … one day

forest CROP

NOTE: today’s cover work of art is Forest Palace, Jóhannes S. Kjarval (1918)

(Hour 14) 11.30am-12.30pm — #32 “Buckle your shoe”

Two fairytale-esque pieces that I was working on simultaneously & ran out of time on each. The Mother Goose mash-up replaces the traditional end of lines from the nursery rhyme, with the relevant bingo call. The plot, such that it is, kinda dictated itself based on the pre-exisiting rhymes.

#32

There was a young gal covered in tattoos
Who only knew how to buckle her shoes
—–—–But would Cinderella
—–—–Have landed her fella
If she wore more than ink … & her Jimmy Choo’s

*****

A Dark Mother Goose Bingo Mashup

One, two,
—–all you can do is buckle your shoe;

Three, four,
—–wait for that knock at the door;

Five, six,
—–when silent screen hero Tom Mix;

Seven, eight,
—–rides up to the garden gate:

Nine, ten,
—–finally you’ll be free of Dave’s Den;

Eleven, twelve,
—–one dozen years here you’ve dwelled

Thirteen, fourteen,
—–since Valentine’s Day 2003;

Fifteen, sixteen,
—–sweet sixteen never been seen

Seventeen, eighteen,
—–coming of age, living in a cage

Nineteen, twenty,
—–one score to settle, none too gently

Bingo_card_-_02

#26. Hmmm, could be tricky…
PS now have 3 out 5 for my first possible BINGO of the day.