Category: contributors

Ordinary Graces

KNEAD each day’s dough and
DALLY in the slowing slips of time. Mine
AMAZEment from ordinary veins of rock. Mirage
IDEALs will have you blinking and next you know it’s all gone.

Empty Spaces

CEDAR chest of records in the attic:
RUMBAs, Bossa Nova, sheets of sound,
WIDOW enjoyed the listening, but her husband queued them up.
TITHE of memory has tripled, the present will soon be tithe.

ISSUE there was none for them, are the memories her children?
MOUNT Yesterday recedes, is all to be downslope?
OVOID remembrance; might it hatch a new life?
SANER ramblings unsettle less, yet are uncharged with hope.

WOMAN fumbles through the actions of the morning, toasts a
BAGEL, makes the coffee, always too much coffee for one.
SUPERimposesd are scripts and sounds with him.
ARISE. Somehow walk into an empty day, and wonder if its spaces might fill again.

Two mites make a farthing

The
TITHE the unnoticeable (except by Christ) and near penniless
WIDOW quietly dropped in the treasury box, was remarked on.
The
RUMBA the rich people made of their offering was remarked on also: CEDARs stand tall and fall heavily; the lily’s beauty outshines Solomon.  

The Widow’s Mite – James Tissot

The Interviewee

APPLY here, says the notice. I’ve already been
CLUED up to what’s ahead: the stench of
MAGMA will pour forth from the interviewer’s mouth.
STRAW man that he is, I determine not to quake.    

Photo: Rondal Partridge
Interviewee applying for a job

The Big Catching up, A Draft

Note: I’m 21 days behind, and it’s time to get back on track. This will take some work.

Prelude

QUELL my fears and now adopt
GUISE of Dante or Vergil, paying long verse no
UNDUE trepidation. I steel myself, face slightly
PALER, but my spirit game: 21 Quordle days in one poem herewith!

TRAWL ephemera, gather flotsam, harvest words found as bread on the desert floor:
CRUDE data will be shaped, threads be woven, scattered stones gathered for structure’s plan.
BRAVEry of consciousness: scram, particles and pulses, we declare history in your stead.
FURRY scamperings in the woods are naught, we undertake tales: this forest will be our Arden.

Our Protagonist Awakes

HAZEL tree in forest’s heart, our protagonist coming to, drowsing among root limbs.
REACT! Eyes open. Slow intake of scene, slower recognition.
SPOKE he: “I’ve lost my bearings, have wandered from the straight path. I can
CHART some meanderings, a life so aimless, but cannot recall what got me here”.

WRUNG from him thus regret at his poor accounting of life’s way, his poor passing of time, Time
TAKER of life, unstayed hand that pushed him stumbling on the path. Memories return: fearsome
TROLLs along the way–fled, survived, yey lighter in unearned purse and bruised for wear. Some rare memories
ELATE, spark joy of higher tale, the strong pace on a narrow path, the journey briefly right. Yet most memories condemn:

QUACK, he. Seller of surface of himself, the appearance of wisdom; he is mercenary, counter of
SCALPs, climber and pusher, treader down of souls for gain. He had sought a lush estate, not the
DRIER sands, the waterless wastes of a life mis-lived. As he recollects he rues the main motif:
FOLLY. Self-declared self-sovereign, supposed master of himself, he has serfed his life for folly.

A new chapter

STAMP
BONEY
TRACE
CLOVE

LOWLY
CORAL
PLANK
AMISS

LIBEL
SAVVY
VAULT
TROLL

COBRA
CORNY
MINCE
CHILI

PASTA
RABID
UNFIT
CURLY

JUROR
BUSED
SAPPY
VYING

SHORN
FRIAR
THREE
UNTIE

HORDE
LOSER
GUSTO
PRONE

DUVET
BLAST
FILMY
CEASE

BRIDE
TILDE
LOWER
REVEL

AMAZE
BINGO
MUMMY
WEIRD

FIELD
BRINE
BEGUN
PITCH

BILGE
LEAPT
GLOAT
PLEAT

GAUNT
SLANG
ROUSE
UNITE

SCARE
RIGHT
IRATE
ORBIT

STRAW
APPLY
MAGMA
CLUED

Confused by my own language

BILGE, I say, not even knowing what a bilge is;
GLOAT, thinking this is something a goat does;
LEAPT, which in my mind should be leaped;
PLEAT, what a lamb does, or maybe I’ll do in court.

Dazzlement

I’ve
BEGUN to engrave the full symphonic score, guzzling
BRINE that should – but doesn’t – taste like wine.
Soon the screen is littered with notes like dancing daisies in a FIELD Or seventy teams simultaneously playing cricket on a single PITCH.

Bellis perennis in bloom in the Gendtse Waard
Photo: Industrees

Archimedes updated

WEIRD – I sink into my bath, and to my
AMAZEment discover displacement.
BINGO! I cry (the English equivalent of Eureka),
MUMMY, I shout. ‘Go get some clothes on,’ she says.       

Wedding Day

Taxing was her big day as a BRIDE: her
In-laws worked to LOWER the already
Lowered tone by REVELling in booze,
Drugs and coarse-tongued Talk – Idle Loafers Defiling the
Event.