Archive for November, 2012

Rare Character Dolls

Posted: November 29, 2012 in Home

Creepy dolls from ‘Rare Character Dolls’ by Maree Tarnowska;my daughter found it in a charity shop and thought of me:)

Shadow Boxes of Rapunzel plus poems

Posted: November 29, 2012 in Home

This is the poem I talked about on Wednesday, which takes the Red Riding Hood fairy story as a simultaneous tale of rape and violence

THE WORD OF THE WOLF

All her fault.

The trees are running, running.
Damp grass streams under my feet
until the redness of her coat
in the sun-stripe, through the trees;
the crimson of her coat congealing.

And the forest stops: only the file
of my breathing goes on, to and fro
across such longing for her heart’s
red secrets. My hollow teeth ache
for that pale throat turned to honey
by the yellow flowers she holds.

Her smile feeds the hungers
of my eyes. She doesn’t see.
She’s looking for the wink of primroses,
for the droop-neck anemones bending
in the gentle music of the trees.
I leap ahead. She doesn’t see me go.

And under the whispering thatch
the old lady won’t stop.
The old lady won’t stop.
The old lady won’t stop.
I put my hand across her mouth.

This is a crisp new linen
of silence. Now I’m stretching out
to pick my teeth and wait.

It’s all her fault.

and these are my Rapunzel shadow boxes, plus my poem about Rapunzel…

Song of Rapunzel

I live in this smooth “o”.
which has no entrance
but the window and
the ladder of my yellow hair.
My mouth opens: how I sing!

In here it’s dark and secret,
red plush, such a warm hollow.
Your face turns towards
my subtle chant; these walls,
and how to scale them?

The sorceress runs upwards,
spider-wise. The thread quivers.
There are doors which you must open.
Your thoughts harden on my
snug interiors, blind caves.

Now you must call and enter:
“Your hair, Rapunzel.” But
she has my place, tops the shaft.
The bird is flown, and the cat
will have the best of you.

You’ll fumble for my music.
Soon, I will see you blind
and heal you with my tears.

Yesterday’s assignment from Phil

Posted: November 1, 2012 in Home

I was so horrified to have to write a religious poem, it is not anything I have ever done:(

However having got stuck with the ending I wrote yesterday I thought I would do it ASAP.

 

I have taken the beginning of Hughes’ Gaudete, “And falls, and gets up from the dead, and shouts.” I loved this and liked the play on the literal meaning of the beginning and the metaphorical end…

 

 

“And falls, and gets up from the dead, and shouts.”

 

It’s dark and the Reverend Lumb

marches with his cassock of disbelief

flapping round his bony knees.

 

He jolts through the desert dusk

into streets of corpses

lying in one another’s arms.

 

Lumb falls, and gets up from the dead,

and shouts. His cry

is answered by a capering fool,

 

laughing at his distress.

It beckons. In a seductive voice

it says, “Lumb, follow me.”

 

And spellbound, Lumb sees it all.

“You think that this

permits your doubts? No.

 

Your doubts create this.”

It turns, and it is golden

and crucified. Lumb falls

 

down on those bony knees,

then gets up from the dead,

and shouts in triumph.