The scouts armoured skin – like a modern
alloy of silver, copper and zinc. Delicate
interlocking plates, shift with mechanical
precision, supported on needle-sharp legs.
As if wound by a magical key…
Consequently, as suggested in the poem, many of these little ants are struck down dead with heatstroke while searching for food in hot desert sand dunes.
On an entirely different subject, Liz in her poem Arthritis wrote about the debilitating nature of her painful condition. She says:
My thumb is back to front,
it’s root a knot,
my fingers cramped,
my rings are stuck…
Mary wrote a strange and interesting poem called, The Confrontation. In this archetypal, almost Jungian poem, the narrator meets a monster on a ‘primordial heath.’ This place is a mindspace - dreamed up in the unconscious reverie of the writer. She says:
strike, then dilates, collapses,
nothing more than
an open eye.
The beast lumbers away.
‘tired symptom of the age –decay.
Our buildings and bodies
And when the sun goes,
What of the beast?
Even our shadow enemy
Sadayo wrote a cool and magical work called Fairy Ring. I’ll quote some, so you get an idea:
Fairies were here last night
giggled and danced
under the spring moon
drank pearls of silver dew…
…left nothing but the ring
on the lawn they had sewn.
…. The colour of butter and ripe bananas…
Among the many insect friends
Excited bees chatter and sing
Drinking Laburnum’s generous mead.
The poem ends on a melanchloic note about the transience of this beautiful blossom.
Caroline presented us with a poem called: South Beach Looking West. She tells a tale of human fly- tipping, a terrible ‘junk-island library.’
Eluned gave us one of her super-compressed poems about children playing with balloons. It was very clever and nicely put together.
Caroline wrote a rather captivating poem about Depression called Sounding:
murders the midnight sleep
lingering into the afternoon slump
and the post work drink.
The poem ends on the startling and captivating image:
And a blackbird rebounds from the window
thumps to the ground with a sigh
To finish, I will publish online one of my sonnets that I workshopped in the Sound Studio:
THE HUMMING BIRD & THE PASSION FLOWER
Ensiferum: Name of the Sword Bearer –
most graceful of all creatures, enfolded
in feathers, wrapped in a jacket of green fire:
your emerald heart winks -wielding the black blade
of your beak, the knives of your wings
lift you into the sex-filled air: a flapping frenzy,
fluttering on a warm waft of scented hymns;
you climb - pushed on by the ecstasy
of the passionflower. You rise between her leaves
encircling the petal-work of her skirt - a flamenco
thrown up by the breeze. The pip of your heart beats -
the philosopher’s stone that echoes
its sacred science within your breast. Upon your tongue:
a nectary of knowledge – into your Beloved you plunge.