A Cascade of Books

Over at dVerse Laura has us thinking about cascades. In particular the cascade form. In this form the first stanza flows and cascades through the following stanzas, each line forming the final line for the following stanzas (so in our case ABCDE, xxxxA, xxxxB…). Laura challenged folk to write a cascade poem of six stanzas, each with five lines. As an extra challenge, she suggested we drew the first stanza from previous work. Go check out the other cascading poems here.

I’ve followed the extra challenge. My first three lines came from an old poem (actually written for a different dVerse prompt). The prompt for that verse was to find poetry in our bookshelves, in particular the titles of the books on our shelves. You can go see the original here. I have added two extra book titles to make the five lines (sorry, no picture this time).

Finally comes the poet
Speaking in stories
Following the Celtic way
Overhearing the Gospel
Doing time in the pulpit

First there came the Word
Then there came so many words
Noise drowning out sense
Prose seeking to prove itself
Finally comes the poet

The world is spoken anew
A call for us to renew
Simple, careful, clear
A breath of fresh life
Speaking in stories

Treading the thin space
Life as a pilgrim
Heart open to all
In thought and deed together
Following the Celtic way

In the study, in the street
In verse and tale
With ears wide open
Eavesdropping reality
Overhearing the Gospel

Looking to make out the Word
In the mouth of the Other
Reshaping this existence
And re-forming it in love
Doing time in the pulpit

The books mentioned:

Finally comes the poet – Walter Brueggemann
Speaking in stories – William R. White
Following the Celtic way – Ian Bradley
Overhearing the Gospel – Fred Craddock
Doing time in the pulpit – Eugene Lowry

Hope you enjoy, please feel free to comment.

Cairns Along The Paths

It’s Meeting the Bar over at dVerse, and Merril has invited folk to write a Toddaid (pronounced TOTH-eyed, o as in got or log, th as in these), a form of Welsh poetry. I’ve actually been intending to look into Welsh poetry since I picked up the Mabinogion and read about the Englyn, so this was rather a good one for me.

For details on what a Toddaid actually is, and to read everyone else’s excellent offerings, go check out dVerse.

Now where to start with my Toddaid. I’ve had a chest infection all week, which has been miserable. As part of it I’ve really struggled with concentration, whether reading or gaming or watching tv. This evening that led me to aimlessly look at some old files tucked away on my laptop. In those files were a bunch of recordings of poetry from an old friend. I’d been feeling a bit nostalgic about long gone friends anyway, so this is to those friends.

From ‘cross time’s swollen seas an old friend’s calls
Their cries, our bawls, are relics of change
These cairns along the paths we each have grown
The ways each were blown, now seem so strange

I am a man I never thought to be
The fragments help me see the long road
That we travelled then, and I travel now
I wonder how I put down my load

And I wonder where did the winds take you
Where you have flown through since we did part
It would be joy to hear your voice again
After ten years and more from the start

From ‘cross time’s swollen seas an old friend’s calls
Their cries, our bawls, are relics of change
These cairns along the paths we each have grown
The ways each were blown, now seem so strange

Hope you enjoy, please do leave a comment.
The Lonely Recluse.

The Sky is Falling (again)

It’s time to meet the bar over at dVerse, and we’re due to do some found poetry from our own sources.

Laura has invited us to write a found poem using the starting lines of our own poetry from the past month. Unfortunately, I haven’t written the required 12 poems in 2023, so I’ve bent the rules of the prompt a bit further (which seemed fitting, given Laura’s musing), and taken the first lines from my past 11 poems to make today’s verse. Go check out the other found poems here

The sky is falling
Thrifty stones standing
The sky falling, the thunder roars
A candle – half burned
Look around
Life is flashing by
The seeds of the day were sown
Dead, wind blasted earth
I begged your pardon
One, two, three
Wound my art.

Hope you enjoy, please feel free to comment.

Druid’s Circle

It’s poetics day over at dVerse poets’ pub, and Lisa has invited us to think of our “Time Machine Bucket List”. She offered three prompts for writing a poem on this theme, and I’ve more than slightly bent the rules.

In the first place, my poetic form today is a haibun – a blending of haiku and prose, as usual with my haibun, I have taken this down a fantasy route, rather than the more normal non-fictional route.

Secondly I have bent the prompts a bit. I could argue that the hills are where I always want to be, I could argue it is about the greatest time travellers of all time, I could argue for a metaphorical journey, I could just smile and shrug because, well what’s the worst that could happen.

Druids Circle is a real place above Penmaenmawr in North Wales (here’s a picture), although I don’t seem to have been taken through time when I visited. Enjoy.

Thrifty stones standing
Grey cloud lingers above
The call of the wild

“Don’t forget your coat, it might rain.” Billy’s mum shouted from the kitchen.
“I won’t mum.” The impatient reply of youth.
“Be back before it’s dark, and don’t go near the quarry.” She rounded the door, dusting flour from her hands, “and give me a hug goodbye.”
“Seeya mum.” The young lad called as he ran out of the house.

He knew where he was going, he’d been planning it since his teacher talked about the Druids Circle. He never knew there was a place like stone henge so close to home. The steep path was no issue for his youthful energy, and he didn’t know enough of fear to be concerned about the overcast skies.
His destination was soon in sight. He couldn’t help but be a little disappointed as he saw the diminutive rocks standing lonely on the hillside.
“Is this it?” He said aloud, watching as the clouds’ shadows played with the outline of the stones. “This is nothing like stone henge.”
As he stepped into the centre of the circle, he thought he heard a voice singing “come away o human child…”

The call back home
Sickle moon watches above
Thirty stones standing

“Mum’s going to kill me.” Billy thought, realising that he’d lost track of the time. He ran down the hillside, through the small village and through the open door.
“Mum, mum, I’m home. Sorry, I lost track of time.”
“Billy?” An older lady rounded the kitchen door in tears. “Billy, it’s been thirty years.”

Hope you enjoy, please feel free to comment.

Snow or Armageddon

Monday has come around again, which means another dVerse prosary prompt. This means that the good folk of dVerse are writing pieces of prose no longer that 144 words to a poetic prompt.

This week’s prompt was “snow would be the easy way out”. This seemed to lend itself to an opening piece of dialogue, and my 144 words followed from there. Go check out the other takes on the prompt (they’ll be awesome).

“Snow would be the easy way out,” she said, looking out the window, “snow or Armageddon. At least then we wouldn’t have to see your sister.”
“C’mon, she’s not that bad.” He replied.
“No. She’s far worse. Don’t you remember that time in Dubrovnik? Pull over, this is the place.”
The car slid into the layby. “Dubrovnik was an accident. She didn’t mean it to go down that way.”
She opened her door without answering him, and took the package from the back seat. She placed it by a tree and returned to the car.
“It’s the family business.” He said pleadingly.
“And she’s terrible at it. A nice heavy seasonal blizzard, and a thick coat of snow would be the easy way out, we wouldn’t be able to get up to Skye, and she wouldn’t be able to repeat Dubrovnik. Snow, or Armageddon.”

Hope you enjoy, please feel free to comment.

The Lonely Recluse.

Atlas

It’s been a long time since I had time to post. I’ve been lost in studies and work and general life busy-ness. Hopefully a lot of that has finished, so I’m hoping there is more time for poetry.

Today’s poem comes from a prompt by Lillian to write a quadrille (a 44 word poem) on the theme of “fall”. God check out the other amazing contributions over at D’Verse.

The sky is falling
As Atlas I stand
I try to hold on

Time has come and gone
Every hope sprawling
Deserts pour through hand

As Atlas I stand
I try to hold on
As the sky is falling
So heavy on my shoulders

Hope you enjoy, please feel free to comment.

Memento

Hi all, long time no see. It’s been a busy time for me, and I’ll be honest, it doesn’t look like life’s getting any quieter, but I’ve been missing writing poetry a lot, so thought I’d try and get back into the habit.

Today’s prompt comes from dVerse’s meeting the bar, where Grace is inviting folk to either write a memento poem, or write a poem about a memento using symbolism. I’ve gone with the latter for this piece. Go check out the other amazing entries for the prompt here

Memento

A candle – half burned
A globe – half turned
A lesson – well learned

A half burned candle
Potential half gone
Unlightable

A half turned globe
Full of pins, of plans
Unturnable

A well learned lesson
Written on the soul
Unforgettable

A candle – half burned
A globe – half turned
A lesson – well learned

Hope you enjoy, please feel free to comment.
The Lonely Recluse

Update, A Haibun

An update, a poem? Both as far as they go.

Life is flashing by
Silence without a pause
A promise un-kept

So things have been busy, the world sped up. I’ve not found chance to find my feet, or find my pen. New job, new essays, old procrastination. Trains hurtling back and to, e-mails going quicker. Phone calls and answer machines. Tap, tap, tap goes keyboard and pen. Dotting I’s and crossing T’s, speaking “wisdom” and moving forward.

Old gap in the gum
Present absence nagging
Daily ritual

So things have been busy, but nothing has changed, I am still I despite all that’s passed by. Same clothes, same smile, older eyes. New pains and old pains yet everything stays the same. Is this a promise of more words, or a brief shower in the desert? I don’t know, but enjoy the rain.

Hope you enjoy, please feel free to comment.
The Lonely Recluse.

The Sky is falling

Sorry for the brief preamble today, I’m travelling and writing on my phone.

Grace over at dVerse has invited folk to write a monotetra, a poem in which each stanza is 4 lines of 8 syllables with the same end rhyme, and a final line that repeats itself. Go check out the other poets here https://dversepoets.com/2021/07/29/poetry-form-monotetra/

The inspiration for today’s poem was getting stuck walking home in the worst weather I’ve been out in for a good number of years.

The sky falling, the thunder roars
Road a river, the pavements shores
Trav’lers rafting, our legs our oars
Yet still it pours, yet still it pours

Hope you enjoy, please feel free to comment
The Lonely Recluse

Our World Burns

Over at dVerse Björn is musing over a poetic form I’ve been wanting to play with for a while. The form of chant, possibly the most ancient form of poetry with roots before language itself. Go read Björn’s description of chants, as well as the chants of the other participants.

On to my chant. It’s not often I write poetry incorporating my faith, perhaps that is a failing on my part. Some of my uni readings bled into this (not too surprising as it was written whilst studying). I believe we are called to be stewards of a land we were given as a gift. We’re doing a crap job of it. This chant is hopefully a call to wake up from our numbness and self imposed blindness, it is hopefully a call to something better.

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Look around
Blood soaked hills
Blood soaked skies
Blood soaked seas
Not our fault
Our world burns

Head in sand
Life in hand
Life in doubt
Life in fear
Not our fault
Our world burns

Look around
We are numb
We are blind
We are deaf
Not our fault
Our world burns

Forgive our sins
Blood on hands
Blood on side
Blood on feet
This our fault
Our world burns

Help us bring
Life in hand
Life in hope
Life in joy
This our fault
Our world burns

Look around
We must feel
We must see
We must hear
This our fault
Our world burns

Our world burns
This our fault
Stand up
Stand up
Not too late
Our world burns
This our fault
There is time
If we stand
If we stand.

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Hope you enjoy, please feel free to comment
The Lonely Recluse