The Poetry Marathon

Observed at preschool:

Four children play “House” together

In the wooden and plastic “House” designated corner of the classroom

Of the littlest students with the brightest of futures.

‘Mom’ sits at the round wooden table, looking at the plastic toy cell phone.

‘Dad’ sits on the bench (named “the couch”), watching a plastic TV.

‘Child’s head is in the little wooden refrigerator as he looks at wooden food.

‘Baby’ crawls on the carpet and ‘cries’ as his role dictates.

No one speaks, listens or pays attention.

This prompt was a little complicated (aka challenging, but challenging can be good). Write 10 lines of a narrative poem. Add 10 more lines (not just at the end). Then remove 8.

I didn’t exactly stick to the ‘rules’. I ‘wrote’ two poems of 10 (each about a different Duchess of Oldenburg – there is a reason for this I might explain one day) then interlaced the two poems, alternating lines. Then tried to shape the final product so it made some kind of sense, as well as cut lines/words/phrases – as well as refashioning line lengths (let’s be honest) so I finally got to a 12 line final poem as kind of required. It was tough & took a bit longer than the hour, but I think the end result is kinda interesting, with some particularly ‘fresh’ images in parts.  NB: the ‘working out’ is also posted …

Duchess of Oldenburg

10 + 10 − 8 (+ edits).

Frederica of Württemberg was born in 1765 in Farther Pomerania
an attractive early-season baby, seventh child of Duke Frederick II
She ran medium-sized with a pinkish blush. At 16, she married
Prince Peter Frederick in a gown with pronounced streaks over green.
Renowned as a great cook, Frederica died in childbirth, aged 20,
white flesh shot with green highlights. Her husband never remarried.
Like many summer varieties, Her Grace oxidized quickly.
However, her very juicy & on the coarser side of dense, siblings
peppered royal houses of Europe; a light, sweet brother became
King of Württemberg; a crisp enough sister, Empress of Russia;
another whose mouth was full of unwieldy teeth, an unlikely
(& unlikeable) Archduchess of Austria. She never became Duchess of Oldenburg.

the work-in-progress

1st 10.
Frederica of Württemberg was born in 1765 in Farther Pomerania
the seventh child of Frederick II Eugene Duke of Württemberg
& Friederike Dorothea of Brandenburg-Schwedt.
At age 16, she married Prince Peter Frederick of Holstein-Gottorp
It was meant to strengthen Russian/Württembergian relations
At 20, Frederica died in childbirth. Her husband never remarried.
Her siblings peppered royal houses of Europe
A brother becoming King of Württemberg;
One sister, Empress of Russia; another, Archduchess of Austria.
Despite all the many titles she would never become Duchess of Oldenburg

+ 2nd 10.
An attractive early-season apple, originating from Russia
in the 18th century, and widely grown in Europe and the US.
She runs medium-sized with a pinkish blush
in pronounced streaks over yellow green.
Renowned as a cooking apple, especially if picked early
the Duchess has white flesh shot with green highlights,
very juicy and on the coarser side of dense. The effect
is light and sweet, but crisp enough, with a little yield to the tooth.
A refreshing hint of lime and a little acid, a flash of vanilla.
Like many summer varieties, Her Grace oxidizes quickly.

10 + 10 (blended).
Frederica of Württemberg was born in 1765 in Farther Pomerania
An attractive early-season apple, originating from Russia
the seventh child of Frederick II Eugene Duke of Württemberg
in the 18th century, and widely grown in Europe and the US.
& Friederike Dorothea of Brandenburg-Schwedt.
She runs medium-sized with a pinkish blush
At age 16, she married Prince Peter Frederick of Holstein-Gottorp
in pronounced streaks over yellow green.
It was meant to strengthen Russian/Württembergian relations
Renowned as a cooking apple, especially if picked early
At 20, Frederica died in childbirth. Her husband never remarried.
the Duchess has white flesh shot with green highlights,
Her siblings peppered royal houses of Europe
very juicy and on the coarser side of dense. The effect
A brother becoming King of Württemberg;
is light and sweet, but crisp enough, with a little yield to the tooth.
One sister, Empress of Russia; another, Archduchess of Austria.
A refreshing hint of lime and a little acid, a flash of vanilla.
Despite all the many titles she would never become Duchess of Oldenburg
Like many summer varieties, Her Grace oxidizes quickly.

twitter me a story,

yours,

I want to twitter you mine

140 characters, it’s complicated

girl, born poet, first memory is scent of donut; craved motherhood, made choices accordingly, now loves these three, a girl, God – all poets

(prompt was write a poem about technology)

They wanted me to write an unwritten story

Something different

Something unseen by the human eye

But who am I

what did they see in me that I couldn’t see

As if they saw an unforeseen talent

As I sit here with thinking of how impossible their request is

Self doubt

Tearing away at the little self faith I had left

Filling space with ” I cants” and “I’m not enough”

Struggling to see what they see

I’m trying to see what they see

But it’s as if my eyes have been glued shut

My hands bounded together so that I can’t pry them up

Depression is a strong allusion

I just can’t let forget that there is hope in my reality

Night Watch

for Grandpa Eddie

Granddad’s slippers slap the hardwoods with purpose,
Rising and falling like a beaver’s tail
He walks the halls, opening and closing doors
Counts heads in bed
Watches chests rise and fall

Danger comes in the middle of the night
Sneaks up the back stairs
So he sits at his kitchen table in the North
Clad in a nightshirt and work pants and blackness
With a shotgun on his lap
Remembering the terror of the South

Ears pricked,
Dark orbs swaying like the swoosh of a cat’s tail
Argus-eyed

(c) Davita Joie 2016

A pregnant pause.

A decision too momentous to rush.

“Is this really where you want to be?”

His soft tone hid the power of the question.

To be in a place – to live in a place is to determine the rest of time.

A choice that ripples in time.

A dot on a map, seemingly random numbers of a coordinate.

The words “no” quickly rush to the poignant conversations.

Dialogue, discussions centered on a place.

To be. Exist in a spot.

“Is this really where you want to be?”

No.

Hour 4 prompt

The marvelous poem

spackled with images like a plastered invalided

sneering at my plain homespun clarity.

just say it plain I say

as the elegant verses laght behind their hands.

Is winning.

Technology: 100   Me: Zero

How did I get HERE, from where I was…

looking up a word definition.

Wait! Go back!

No, I do not wish to donate, sign a petition or speak to a counselor,

I just want…

To hell with it.

CTRL ALT DELETE

Screen to Screen you know what I mean
can’t get away from those bright shiny things.
Tvs,phones,tablets, laptops galore
They were made so you no longer can complain that your bored.
Taking over your precious time secretly controlling your f-ing mind.

Lady Lannae =)