#poetry

Midweek Poetry: Dandelion Wishes by daintydora

This month's poetry challenge and link-up with my #creativesister Karen at Leaf & Petal is inspired by the image below titled 'Dandelion Wishes'. Immediately I was transported to an ethereal place of wonder and intrigue in a wooded copse by a babbling river...

Dandelion Wishes

 

she blew slowly
sending tufts of fragile frond spinning up above her head.
a few near-transparent wisps

 

paused for a moment

 

meandering in her hair, then caught a ride on the breeze dancing up, up, higher up frothy and floating;
flower-clouds pirouetting
under the shade
of close-quarter trees...

 

until:

 

a whispering rush rush and babble,
the river beckoned clear and cool
and the delicate fronds
leapt down to kiss it,
quickly consumed, submerged
carrying their delicate
dandelion wishes
out of the woods,
                                away.

 

Read Karen's poem in response to 'Dandelion Wishes' and be inspired by her #100daysofpaper.

Check out my progress so far in my #100daysofhaiku

Read last month's creative challenge and link-up 'Where do lost streets go?'

 

Midweek Poetry: Clouds Boiled in Anna Karenina by daintydora

Using Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina as my source prose, I randomly - and blindly - landed my finger at a collection of phrases and words from throughout the book, to come up with an interesting if nonsensical paragraph of fodder in which to 'find' a hidden poem.

Surmise departing flattery, impossible the baby cried. Quietly waiting for a day, continually knocking. Without followers, quiet, nasal, old-fashioned dolly. Unpleasant orphanage returned superficial pleasure. A mist. Forty paces feel bored. Nothing except hypocrisy. Recognise one’s real daughter had quarrels cordially. Fleecy clouds boiled without water, cheerfully. Errand images altogether different. French cathedral long been married.

I like this paragraph of imagery that is unexpected and makes you double-take to scan your eyes over it a second time (a double-read?)

It has a poetic sense just as it is. A tumbling jumble of Tolstoy's finest phrases.

Here's the poem I made from it, which is and has been so far 'untitled':

Superficial,
the clouds boiled.
Boiled without departing.
A cathedral of clouds
boiled.
Images recognise pleasure. And
surmise cordially.
Surmise. Superficial.
Departing.

This is a re-post - originally posted on my blog circa October 2010. I couldn't resist. And I'm still going strong for #100daysofhaiku!

See my progress so far over on Instagram.

 

FOUND poetry (from a Balenciaga perfume advert) by daintydora

I love playing with words and I've featured FOUND poetry here before. Whilst flicking through the latest (free) Boots Health & Beauty magazine, I was inspired to construct a quick poem from the words used to advertise the new Balenciaga perfume.

Found Poem: 'Quite Simply'

Advert used for Found Poetry: 'Quite Simply'

It's a bit silly, but it's quick and it's *FUN*. It taps into something immediate and childlike and gets your mind thinking creatively about words and how they fit together.

And I think I'm sold on the perfume now too: "a dream of never-forgotten woody blend floral..." - yes! And the bottle is rather appealing...

I do love it when I can upcycle things, rework things, and use something that would ordinarily be discarded and forgotten, for artistic purpose.

Have you 'found' any poetry of late?

 

Midweek Poetry: Johnstone Girl by daintydora

I love the idea of a midweek respite from the hum-drum-grind-bind-stride of life for just a few moments. Reading poetry has the power to transport you off into another world, other worlds, an inside place; bringing a new perspective. Words are so powerful. But I don't just want to feature my own words and poems here.

This week I rediscovered an anthology of poetry by Amy Anderson that I bought last summer from the Tell it Slant poetry pop-up in the Project Cafe in Glasgow.

The cafe had just opened in time for the Glasgow International Art Festival, and Amy's anthology was the first thing I picked up. As I flicked through the pages the title of one of the poems caught my attention: Johnstone Girl.

I live in Johnstone. And my name is Johnstone. And then my favourite song came on. It had to be.

I'm not going to reproduce the whole poem here (for copyright purposes, and to perhaps encourage others to seek out this anthology), so instead here are the first and last lines:

Maybe she was a wind in an old life.
She flies on a wistful breath
...
Eyes caught in her frown
are taut Hebridean seas.

The anthology is called Night's Fresh Velvet (such a great title!), published by Calder Wood Press.

I was transported far and wide and close inside by the words of Amy Anderson.

I hope you enjoyed these words from a magpie girl; a Johnstone girl, and a poetry lover.