tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5409519305033642895.post7665275861578164540..comments2023-06-24T14:21:13.094+02:00Comments on AppleHouse Poetry Workshop: What will be doneLynne Reeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11852192697142140025noreply@blogger.comBlogger16125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5409519305033642895.post-77073136412692142242010-05-23T18:52:05.283+02:002010-05-23T18:52:05.283+02:00Lynne
Thanks you are spot on, I'd been looking...Lynne<br />Thanks you are spot on, I'd been looking at it thinking I need to change it but hadn't quite worked it out. I am very happy with your suggestion it vastly improves it, thanks EileenAnonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5409519305033642895.post-74548271417436535912010-05-23T17:59:08.418+02:002010-05-23T17:59:08.418+02:00Hi Eileen - thanks for posting your two poems. And...Hi Eileen - thanks for posting your two poems. And congrats, again, on your collection.<br /><br />'What hands will do' is compulsive reading. I really like the repeated 'no' and the absence of punctuation adds to the urgency. One thing I wondered about was to shorten a couple of lines towards the end:<br /><br />...<br />no wrap around<br />of can’t let go<br />I want to turn <br />the clock - one second <br />before the beginning<br />to feel that spark<br />when you reached <br />out to me and I <br />reached right back.<br />...<br /><br />But line breaks can be very subjective, I know. With this lineation I liked the hesitations the alternative line breaks added.Lynne Reeshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/11852192697142140025noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5409519305033642895.post-56800952825181294682010-05-22T22:05:29.221+02:002010-05-22T22:05:29.221+02:00And here's one I did earlier...it's from m...And here's one I did earlier...it's from my first poetry collection 'Stroking The Air' it kind of fits the brief...loosely, on what hands will do!<br /><br />Sleight Of Hand<br /><br />You snared me<br />gypsy-eyed<br />with your laughter<br />and jewelled tongue <br />adorning words<br />telling tales<br />of druids and trees<br /><br />With you there were no nightmares-<br />only spirited streams, <br />bewitching woodland, your voice<br />which haunts me still<br /><br />I picture your hands-<br />the slight smallness<br />of them,<br />practised in the art of juggling<br />pots and pans<br />in a bothy of a kitchen<br /><br />I was your coadjutrix,<br />invigorated by the music,<br />the smells,<br />the ingredients<br /><br />You fed me titbits<br />from your lissom fingers-<br />pleasurable morsels<br />of skulduggery<br /><br />we danced round coffee stains<br />till midnight struck<br /><br />Another time<br />another place<br />I will wear your shirt-<br />the black one with the mad flowers<br />and you will<br />unbutton each button-<br />I picture your hands.<br /><br />Eileen Carney HulmeAnonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5409519305033642895.post-9780068386621129702010-05-22T21:14:21.380+02:002010-05-22T21:14:21.380+02:00What hands will do
Is this how it was meant to be...What hands will do<br /><br />Is this how it was meant to be-<br />an impossible ending<br />with no goodbye<br />no hands waving<br />no last minute grasp<br />no skin on skin<br />no wrap around<br />of can’t let go<br />I want to turn the clock-<br />one second before the beginning<br />to feel that spark<br />when you reached out to me<br />and I reached right back.<br /><br />Eileen Carney HulmeAnonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5409519305033642895.post-42029995763542954522010-05-21T17:07:20.417+02:002010-05-21T17:07:20.417+02:00Hello all - there are some astonishing poems here:...Hello all - there are some astonishing poems here:<br /><br />@ Helen: this is very emotionally convincing - how the narrator criticises parts of this man to avoid admitting/facing a truth. I don't get 'orthopaedia'? I keep thinking 'orthopaedic shoes' but I can't see why they're necessary to the poem.<br /><br />@ Keith - tremendous energy to this. The rhythms/form control my reading as I spill down the page. And I like how the poem shifts between the positive and negative aspects of how we live our lives too. <br /><br />@ Martin - this feels very fresh, original. I can't remember ever reading a poem about hand shadows. I wonder if 'I shake a fist at insomnia' could come further down in the poem, and perhaps it's too neat to close with 'at last, sleep'? I love the 'atoms of dawn'.<br /><br />@ Lu - I really like the title and the idea the poem explores, but I'm not sure it's achieving what it should yet. Perhaps there's a clash of images here and there, e.g. tall hat/king & queen (I think of crowns?) But it's worth working with this idea... have you read Billy Collin's poem 'The Death of the Hat'? It's online to read. Wonderful shift from the general to the specific.<br /><br />@ Glen: How do you feel about the poem starting here (with a little edit):<br /><br />What a marvel <br />we dangle unceremoniously <br />at the bony end of our wrists<br /><br />I think that's an astonishing opening to a poem. And perhaps you could include some detail from the Michaelangelo/Picasso section afterwards? I think the poem would appear less didactic like that.<br /><br />@ Erin - There's such a strong heart to this poem that I wonder if it could sustain being surgically cut to, something like:<br /><br />a gold band loose betwen knuckles<br />cool of an empty pillow<br />my hands feel your absence<br /><br />I find that incredibly moving, but it's your poem, so excuse my tinkering.<br /><br />@ Mary Rose - you achieve a wonderful balance between pathos and bathos here. I really like it. The syntax could perhaps be tighter here and there, but don't tinker too much with it. And you probably don't need 'with a mind of their own' at the beginning as the poem shows us that.<br /><br />I'll try and get back to some second poems later.<br /><br />Thanks so much for sharing your work.Lynne Reeshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/11852192697142140025noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5409519305033642895.post-21317185606700372472010-05-20T21:28:59.220+02:002010-05-20T21:28:59.220+02:00Feet
With a mind of their own.
I love walking, my...Feet<br />With a mind of their own.<br /><br />I love walking, my feet<br />are my favourite mode of transport.<br />But recently they’ve shown signs of revolt,<br />omens, seed corns under their soles.<br /><br />Of course I concede they do a fantastic job,<br />enabling me to enjoy life, as much as I can alone.<br />Their latest ploy is hard lumps on each<br />big toe joint, some kind of joke perhaps?<br /><br />Now they have become decidedly deceitful.<br />I find them where I don’t expect them, they send me<br />sprawling. They make me take wrong turnings,<br />pay no attention to hazards, leaving them to me.<br /><br />Perhaps they are too low for the lighted green man?<br />I’d be under a car if they had their way.<br />Yesterday I set off for my local Tescos,<br />ended up at the Bank in town.<br /><br />I had to ask for a withdrawal <br />to save face as I took my turn in the queue.<br />Recently it’s a strong aversion to wellingtons,<br />preferring their favourite pair of shoes.<br /><br />So I must wear them, rain or shine,<br />wade through puddles regardless.<br />But I sense their contentment and the method<br />in their madness.<br /><br />Dear feet, I forgive you. Never desert me please.Mary Rosenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5409519305033642895.post-31826272620492968552010-05-19T23:12:20.850+02:002010-05-19T23:12:20.850+02:00Untitled
Dry, cracked hands
looking smaller every...Untitled<br /><br />Dry, cracked hands<br />looking smaller everyday.<br />Fingers like <br />spiders across the keyboard,<br />curling into themselves,<br />a gold band loose between knuckles.<br /><br />The cool of an empty pillow,<br />palm imagining the rough of a beard, <br />a skin’s heat.<br />Yours.<br /><br />Old is how they look. Tired.<br /><br />Hands, mine, <br />wear your absence.Erin Lee Warehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05980401218792645462noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5409519305033642895.post-64683197999846889522010-05-19T11:57:41.002+02:002010-05-19T11:57:41.002+02:00Severed hand
It was your fault for possessing
a ...Severed hand<br /><br />It was your fault for possessing <br />a wood saw, for leaving, <br />suddenly. It was my fault I guess <br />for owning a freezer, <br /><br />a microwave, but is it? <br />You’ll never know <br />how much I enjoy your hands brush <br />across my face, moving hair from eyes, <br /><br />the reassuring weight on my shoulder, <br />how I long for your caress <br />of my knee, my thigh, <br />or how I love to fall asleep, your hand <br /><br />in mine, making me believe<br />i’m still wanted.martin cordreynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5409519305033642895.post-91157910336762798832010-05-18T20:03:37.079+02:002010-05-18T20:03:37.079+02:00Handu-doka
The Tacoma News Tribune
had some kind ...Handu-doka<br /><br />The Tacoma News Tribune<br />had some kind of a journalistic<br />brain fart, creating a new kind<br />of puzzle the other day:<br />___in marriage, ___shake, ___writing,<br />clock___, ____y, ___of cards, first____,<br />second____, bite the ____, ____out,<br />force one’s ___, ___ to mouth, ___down,<br />___over, ___out, lay ___s on, upper ___,<br />high ___, heavy ___, ___bag, ___ball,<br />___bill, ___book, ___cart, ___cuffs,<br />George Frederick ____el, ___ful,<br />___ grenade, ___ grip, ___icap, ___icraft,<br />___kerchief, ___le, ___bar, ___-made,<br />___-me-down, ___rail, ___saw, ___set,<br />___some, ___spike, ___-to-mouth,<br />___yman;<br />Jesus, I will just make a bunch of<br />___labels, and fill in all these blanks.<br /><br />Glenn Buttkus May 2010Glenn Buttkushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/10680725814199700692noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5409519305033642895.post-7164370874854194522010-05-18T18:26:51.082+02:002010-05-18T18:26:51.082+02:00Hand Jive
Blind Bob:
Twitchy bee-bop, finger-sna...Hand Jive<br /><br />Blind Bob:<br /><br />Twitchy bee-bop, finger-snap, sheebam;<br />lookey here, Dude—<br />don’t give me no gang-jive,<br />or that flying bird one-finger salute,<br />or mystic palm readings<br />or even clever Ameslan—<br />no, no, no—<br />for right now, right here<br />I really need the full doctor talk<br />all about my carpels and tunnels<br />nails and quicks, creases and joints,<br />cuz my hands don’t strum<br />those six-bitch strings,<br />or work that metal slide<br />like they supposed to, man.<br /><br />Doctor Roberts:<br /><br />No problem, sir, I can spout that<br />terminology to your complete<br />and bluest satisfaction—guaranteed.<br /><br />Blind Bob:<br /><br />Dig it, Doc, four to the bar,<br />knock my chapeau off,<br />blow my argyles down,<br />fry my brain and plunge my drain,<br />and lay it down hard,<br />oh yeah!<br /><br />Doctor Roberts:<br /><br />I promise to check out both<br />the radial and ulmar borders,<br />massage your distal, proximal<br />and palmar phalanx, not disrespecting<br />those tender interphalangeals,<br />while gently stroking the Thenar.<br /><br />Blind Bob:<br /><br />Oopamow-wow, Bones, you got<br />my fingers walking<br />and my wrists jumping<br />into supination one,<br />or pronation too.<br /><br />Doctor Roberts:<br /><br />Talking ‘bout bones, Bob,<br />we gonna connect that pisiform<br />to the hamate, that triquetrun<br />to the capitates, that lunate<br />to the trapezoid, that scaphoid<br />to the trapezium, and then cap<br />it with a mighty melding of<br />the metacarpais to the phalanges!<br /><br />Blind Bob:<br /><br />You’re the coolest, man—<br />I feel better already.<br /><br /><br />Glenn Buttkus May 2010Glenn Buttkushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/10680725814199700692noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5409519305033642895.post-76655934508534909512010-05-18T16:47:30.420+02:002010-05-18T16:47:30.420+02:00Hands Are
Hands are capable
of the most tender to...Hands Are<br /><br />Hands are capable<br />of the most tender touch<br />or the jarring impact of a fist;<br />of garrulous greetings <br />or grievous good-byes,<br />of marvelous medicine<br />or Machiavellian murder,<br />of pious prayer<br />or predatory pedophilia,<br />of love or larceny,<br />of rejoicing or rejection,<br />of praiseworthy Art<br />or its populist substitutes,<br />of releasing figures from stone<br />or bashing men to death with rocks,<br />of giving man wings for flying,<br />or tearing them off angels.<br /><br />Simians have hands too,<br />but the gods denied them<br />the blessed cognition necessary<br />to drive race cars<br />and use Glocks.<br /><br />Glenn Buttkus May 2010Glenn Buttkushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/10680725814199700692noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5409519305033642895.post-88610049544918098902010-05-17T20:22:09.252+02:002010-05-17T20:22:09.252+02:00Hands On
Michelangelo loved to sketch, sculpt
and...Hands On<br /><br />Michelangelo loved to sketch, sculpt<br />and paint hands, for he understood<br />that even his own genius <br />never would have surfaced<br />without those opposable thumbs.<br /><br />Picasso transferred his cubist perspectives<br />from cortex to canvas<br />with big-knuckled peasant hands.<br /><br />What a marvel of engineering<br />we dangle unceremoniously <br />at the bony end of our wrists; <br />hands<br />that<br />built the pyramids,<br />planted an American flag on the moon,<br />thrust skyscrapers into the clouds,<br />cared for poppy fields and bonsai trees,<br />clear cut trees and then reforested them,<br />demolished much of history<br />and then reconfigured it—<br />but what if we had been fashioned<br />like the dolphins, with intellect and soul<br />to spare, but with no hands<br />to change the world we inhabit;<br />living by grace alone,<br />by the charity of nature<br />or its capriciousness? <br /><br />Glenn Buttkus May 2010Glenn Buttkushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/10680725814199700692noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5409519305033642895.post-77231575018887718162010-05-17T17:06:39.838+02:002010-05-17T17:06:39.838+02:00What a tall hat will do
Sit, on your head to disp...What a tall hat will do<br /><br />Sit, on your head to display <br />the power, unsecured, as only<br />a king or queen would. <br /><br />Bear the glances of admiration<br />like a model catwalks on the stage<br />under cheering spotlight. <br /><br />Feel the pain, the weight and how <br />migraine pulsates, or how the shoulders <br /><br />sag, and cervical vertebra throbs <br />as each ounce and inch add to the hat.Lunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5409519305033642895.post-77549502125164968792010-05-16T22:42:17.278+02:002010-05-16T22:42:17.278+02:00Hands
Three little ducks on a digital clock
the h...Hands<br /><br />Three little ducks on a digital clock<br />the hour of grey-matter; <br /><br />I stretch my index finger, touch <br />the distant moon, wiggle two bunny ears, <br /><br />its body evolves into a dinosaur, no <br />a rabbit, I wave hello, goodbye<br /><br />come here!, yes you! I point, victory?<br />A beating heart; flexing in, out, <br /><br />in, out, as tension curdles my blood.<br />I shake a fist at insomnia.<br /> <br />Thumbs up to an idea forgotten <br />by morning. Thumbs down to my executioner.<br /><br />Two hands become a winged bird taking flight <br />into drab curtains - my soul mingles <br /><br />with the universe, with the atoms of dawn. <br />At last, sleep.martin cordreynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5409519305033642895.post-3888314685709559382010-05-16T16:28:20.858+02:002010-05-16T16:28:20.858+02:00HAND
I hold fate
the embrace or slap
the tender t...HAND<br /><br />I hold fate<br />the embrace or slap<br />the tender touch and painful poke.<br />I guide the pen that writes<br />the peace treaty<br />the cheque that buys guns<br />the poem of love<br />the poison of libel.<br />I grip the hand of a troubled friend<br />or push the back of foe.<br />I have what I hold<br />or give what I have,<br />retain or release.<br />I am the forked tongue<br />of a snake<br />in the grass<br />of everyday.<br />I leave guilty prints<br />in each life I touch.Keith Wallishttps://www.blogger.com/profile/04780087068444798682noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5409519305033642895.post-11568281763734457222010-05-15T23:17:38.293+02:002010-05-15T23:17:38.293+02:00Sorry lynne can I add this post rather than my las...Sorry lynne can I add this post rather than my last one. the poem's tense needed tweaking !<br />thanks, helen<br /><br />Untitled<br /> <br />The last time she saw him,<br />She tried to negate him part by part.<br />Red socks absurd;<br />Glasses too far down his nose;<br />Small feet in tightly tied orthopaedia;<br />Arse unspectacular in those jeans.<br /> <br />His hands were around a glass.<br />She kept them blurred in her edge of sight,<br />Knowing if she studied them,<br />Something inside her<br />Would spasm and gasp,<br />One whorled fingerprint at a time.Helenhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13636890537734979409noreply@blogger.com