excise the superfluous
distil to the essence
strip away fat
reveal the bones
expose meaning to the light
and then write
Tonight is Open Link Night over at dVerse. No theme, no particular form, just poetry of your own choice. My offering tonight is very short, but that reflects the whole point of the message!
If you hunger for more – more length, more delicacy, more romance, more form, more poetry, head on over to dVerse and enjoy – take part, even!
brother believe in your silver-spangled skill-set
stand on the shore, survey the scene
let your guitar sing, reverberate those rhythms
play it again boy, play it with ease
brother believe in your power and your glory
step all aboard, anchors set free
dive into those oceans, manipulate that music
play it all night boy, play with the breeze
brother believe, bring back your tall tales
return to the harbour, head held high
hold fast to the memories, they’ll last you a lifetime
play with your youth boy, play and believe.
I’ll be honest, this is an old poem I posted back in 2013. I’ll be more honest – I’m a little empty on the inspiration front with regards to thinking about a subject matter AND meter tonight. Sometimes it happens, right?
Anyway, I wanted to take part in the dVerse fun (and on the right day!), so here it is. My brother has just come back from another stint working as a guitarist on a cruise ship, so this is a little welcome home for him.
I also read this out at a poetry slam a couple of years ago – nerve-wracking though it was, I had such fun, and the audience were fabulous.
For those of you who have stumbled across my blog, if you want to read and even take part in dVerse Meeting the Bar, do head on over to the website. We’re a friendly, welcoming crowd and there’s always something good going on.
Thank you to Victoria for hosting tonight!
I ache to press my fingers into her flesh,
insert them under her skin and grab
fistfuls of the yellow fat cells pulsating beneath.
My nerve-endings tingle with anticipation –
I imagine blood, sinews and cartilage slithering over my hands.
Some call her voluptuous
She has been labelled curvaceous in her time –
her complexion has been admired,
compliments have been made about her chestnut hair
and how it gleams like conkers in the autumn sun.
Most people skirt around that single-syllabled utterance – fat.
It is as if the very word itself is a crime,
as if it should be expunged from the dictionary.
I do not criticise,
do not imagine barbs where none exist.
No, I rejoice in her size,
after all, I am an artist,
an admirer of the human form in all its variations.
My only sorrow is, that in common with them all,
she cannot be moulded.
She is not clay.
I am saddened that she too, will not outlive my attentions.
Perhaps, in the future, there will be such a survivor.
All I want is for each of them to be a little bit better than they already are.
Is that too much too ask?
Tonight on dVerse Poetics, Lillian is inviting us to write with a sculpture, or sculptor in mind. Have a conversation with your sculpture, give us your back story, turn and turn again, tell the story from whatever angle you choose, be the sculpture coming to life or the model being used as inspiration. What a wonderful idea, Lillian!
Hmm… my sculptor is a little (a lot!) sinister. I don’t know where he came from, all I know is, I wouldn’t want to be one of his models!
I hope you enjoy (if you can bear it!). I’m sure other entries will be much more light-hearted than mine, so please, do head on over to the dVerse pub, ask the friendly barkeep to pour you a cold one, and get reading (and why not take part?)!
Freya Writes... 