Category Life

Stand, Listen, Regret

freyathewriter 8 Comments 
basking

raising my face to the sun
closing eyes to recede
and join the world
one and the same

ears buffeted by a breeze
a low note faceted with the subtle chill of autumn
whilst the high, bright notes are playful
bringing the bleat of ewes and adolescent lambs
the metallic clunk of farm machinery
tractors are tested, dismantled and put to bed
until the fecund seasons start once more

silence and boil
whisper and yell
contrast me
still —
silent with all that surrounds
the quietude is a fallacy
or perhaps not
perhaps striving for silence is something we created
to battle against the noise of our minds
the clamour of our industry
the demands of our modernity
the delusion of an easier life
machines doing our work

illusory

and yet —
how have we filled those dreamed-of empty hours?
our cups overflow
too much data
haptics vibrating
upticks in our constant chase
rat-defined race
the creeping animals are left breathless in our verminous wake

there is no silence

all those people underground tapping the underside
reflection of what we desired
or what nightmarish imaginings we strove to evade

they come to haunt
those things we spent our time aiming to miss
We are no better than those who came before
before
... before

and before

we merely found new ways to become the animals that we truly are
cannibals

destroyers of futures
creators of destruction

So I stand

I listen
I, regret
I... stand
I
listen

yet

Over at dVerse, Grace is inviting us to write a descort, which is a poem of deliberate difference rather than having a defined form like, say, a villanelle. She suggest that we might experiment with:

*varying line lengths
*changing rhythms or meters
*inconsistent rhyme schemes
*different stanza shapes
*shifts in voice or perspective
*fragments alongside complete sentences
*the use of another language or dialect
*unusual visual arrangements on the page

We don’t need to use all of these techniques, but keep in the mind the key principle: Let the discord mean something.

This was quite the challenge, but a lot of fun. If you want to give it a try, head on over to dVerse (linked above), read Grace’s helpful guide and join us!

Hiraeth

freyathewriter 27 Comments 
Hiraeth
Hiraeth
Cymru am byth
in these stones lieth
rain, never-ending
turning streams into rivers
turning the wheel
the wheel
the wheel
breaking the stones
the bones
the bones
silver and lead
bring out your dead
count them
count them
bring out your dead

Hiraeth
Hiraeth
Cymru am byth
work them to death
for a crust of dark bread
darken the doorsteps
with the smuts on your breath
put them in barracks
work them to death
poison their bodies
with deadening lead
filling their pockets
with bones and dread
Cymru am byth
here, there lieth
the boys and the men
the drowned and the bloated
for the silver and lead

Hiraeth
Hiraeth
Cymru am byth
for the silver and lead
bring out your dead
turning them over
for the silver and lead
count them
recount them
we walk on the blood
of the boys and the men
of the gone and the dead
bring out your dead
cast in silver and lead

Hiraeth
Hiraeth
in these stones lieth
pray, a moment of silence
let them sing, witness
the troubles they had
Gwlad, Gwlad, pleidiol wyf i’m gwlad

Hiraeth
Hiraeth
Cymru am byth

For dVerse Poetics this week, Dora invites us to consider stone our muse for our poetic wanderings, whether it be gemstones, vast rocks, or somewhere in-between.

Where I live in Wales, I am surrounded by quiet hills and mountains that once roared with industry, stretching back over two thousand years. Whether it was silver, lead, copper or gold, the people of this part of our country mined it – you can only imagine the dangerous conditions in which they worked.

I chose to give a voice to the people of the past who worked in terrible conditions to bring the minerals out of the very rock of this land, weaving in some of the Welsh language at the same time. I have included explanations of the words and phrases that I have used below:

Hiraeth – a deep longing for something, especially your home
Cymru am byth – Wales forever
Gwlad, Gwlad, pleidiol wyf i’m gwlad – Land! Land! I am true to my land! This is from the national anthem of Wales, Land of My Fathers.

If you would like to join us in writing a poem inspired by stones, precious or otherwise, click on the link above and join us!

(Photo of the Cwm Elan lead mine, from 28dayslater.co.uk).


Transient

freyathewriter 27 Comments 
How can you prove something didn't happen
when the only witness is you?

When you’re the one curled up on the hexagoned floor
watching the blood seep through

the cotton weave of your favourite skirt
the one that caressed the slight mound

of your stomach, the one you’d hidden
for all those years, flattening it with

girdle pants to be just like the girls
with concave femininity, the ones

who glanced sideways at your tree trunk thighs
sneering as they passed you by

tree trunk thighs with muscles of water
as you scrabble around on the bathroom floor

scooping up blood rivulets in shaking fingers
drawing faces in the most intimate places

imagining eyes of an unavailable daughter
laughter of a boy running towards you

and your arms ache, your stomach burns
your heart expands and the lesson you learn

as your defective womb leaks all over the floor
is: this isn’t for you, it’s too late and too soon

for the world to welcome another like you

Over at dVerse Open Link Night, we are invited by our congenial host Grace to share a poem in response to the prompt she has set, or something else entirely. This week, I have decided to go for something else.

If you would like to take part and also have the opportunity to read other poets’ work, please click on the link, read the post and dive on in!

(Image by Jean Marc Pampuch at Pexels).