You speak like the words are tripping over your tongue, boy, like your brain’s runnin’ too fast to share all your street joy, your mental agility, your linguistic ability- – – – – it silences me. I cannot compete, you’ve been doin’ it for years, listenin’ to those MCs, they’re controllin’ like masters, freestylin’ with fluidity, there ain’t no rigidity, shoutin’ over ghetto blasters – – – – – you’re a tough act to come after. So I ain’t rhymin’, or reasonin’, or trying to emulate, you win hands down, boy. I dig it.
Watching drum and bass MCs spit words like broken teeth sends me crazy.
This week, on dVerse Meeting the Bar, Bjorn is our benevolent bartender and he has cordially invited us to indulge in haibun (prose, followed by haiku), but he also invites us to test and distort the tradition. I think that I have broken all the rules, apart from using 17 syllables in the closing line, which is in the style of an American Sentence – because I love, love, love Allen Ginsberg, I couldn’t resist. And, because I spent some time last night watching a drum & bass DJ and MC on an internet radio station, I threw rhyme and rhythm into my (not quite) prose section.
Poetry is all about breaking the rules, right? I hope you enjoy it 🙂
Please pop over to dVerse to see how others have risen to this challenge.
This week we are invited to be innovative. Instead of completing our prose with a haiku, we can choose an alternative style of oh-so-brief poetry. I have selected the Cambodian pathya vat style – four lines of poetry where the second and third lines must rhyme.
This week is also prompt week, and i have chosen the Mexican proverb ‘It is not enough to know how to ride – you must also know how to fall’ as my inspiration.
Please do go and check out the other entries by visiting the co-hosts’ blogs and finding the InLinkz linky thing! There are some very talented writers out there…
– One Wild Song –
The weather yesterday was what I told myself to be the winter version of the day of my dad’s funeral – blue skies, here and there the odd wisp of teased, cotton wool clouds, everywhere crisp and bright.
It was a fitting day for us all to gather for his memorial service. A man who loved colour in his clothing as well as in his art, he would have delighted in such a day to celebrate his life, his achievements, his work.
Throughout the service – a mixture of classical music, hymns, choral works, poetry and other readings – I kept on thinking that I wouldn’t have been surprised if the man himself had arrived, charging down the aisle in a puff of cigar smoke, rainbow-hued tie flailing. It was all so ‘him’. The stunning surroundings, the atmosphere, the sheer grandeur of it all, yet wrapped in an intimacy so tangible it could almost be touched and held close.
So many amazing sentiments were expressed. They were touching, even humorous at times, topped off by a huge round of applause fit to lift St Paul’s Cathedral from its foundations and expose the OBE Chapel to the world outside.
It could have been no better.
clapping of hands stings in echoes for life that flows – sorrow no more
This week we can choose one of two word prompts, either Mirror or Faery, and I have chosen Mirror.
Please do go and check out the other entries by visiting the co-hosts’ blogs and finding the InLinkz linky thing! There are some very talented writers out there… I will visit each and every one as soon as I can!
– No Words Necessary –
The mirror is my wicked step-mother, blasting ice-cold shards of criticism at my cowering reflection, hurling epithets that corkscrew their way into my ears, even though my back is turned, even though I am long gone.
The mirror is my Nemesis, my arch-enemy, my downfall. It knows when I am at my weakest. It knows when I need to look immaculate. It knows when I have the least time to attend to faults highlighted by the unforgiving light like emergency flares.
The mirror magnifies every little thing, every imperfection, all of my worst fears.
The mirror is no friend of mine.
manifesting faults amplifying blemishes abuse needs no words