The Progressive Poem is here!
Before I share my thoughts … and my line … I have to apologise for my silence. I caught the first two weeks, but then dropped out of the loop for ten days as I was presenting poetry workshops and book readings at the Sharjah Children’s Reading Festival, in the United Arab Emirates. I am still resetting my body clock, but I hope to get back and read/comment on the missed posts.
This is the second year I’ve been involved in the Progressive Poem, organised by the lovely Irene Latham. This year we were asked to record our thoughts in response to Line One, Day One, contributed by Elizabeth Steinglass.
Nestled in her cozy bed, a seed stretched.
My first thought was brief; I see this developing into an earthy non-fiction children’s poem – and that holds a lot of appeal!
To be honest, every time I read that first line, I anticipate the soil and sunshine of sprouting seeds, and I can’t help but hope that one day that poem will be …
But for April, (which is Spring in some parts of the globe – though not in Australia!) this little poem has blossomed into a jazzy jaunt through dreams, night flight, revelry and wisdom. Every line has been a surprise – and I have constantly been amazed by those who have gone before. (It sure was intimidating, by the time it got to me!!)
Sun was peeping into the poem when Buffy left us yesterday – going off to sip Jasmine tea. I momentarily considered Jas brewing a cup herself, with a little help from Sun – but decided against that, as it seemed more middle-aged than childish/youthful.
I toyed with releasing her aroma … but though I now know much more about Poet’s Jasmine than I did before, I still can’t say for sure and certain if it releases its scent in the morning … or the evening. (An earlier post said our Jasmine was nocturnal – but everthing I’m reading seems to indicate that Poet’s Jasmine releases its scent in the morning … ) But, uncertainty. Scrap that idea.
Then I thought to have Sun paint Sky vivid colours … but Moon-Sky-Owl have just been enfolded … (though enfolded can also mean; shroud, veil, cloak – so perhaps the flower just obscured them …) Another hint of contradiction, so quash that idea.
What to do? One, short line – and the weight of the whole poem rested on my muse!
She twirled, twining tendrils through the trellis.
Then I went back to reread Buffy’s blog, and a comment from Robyn gave me the word that I needed! With the end in sight, I have linked it all the way back to the start … My line is in bold.
Nestled in her cozy bed, a seed stretched. Oh, what wonderful dreams she had had! Blooming in midnight moonlight, dancing with the pulse of a thousand stars, sweet Jasmine invented a game. “Moon?” she called across warm honeyed air. “I’m sad you’re alone; come join Owl and me. We’re feasting on stardrops, we’ll share them with you.” “Come find me,” Moon called, hiding behind a cloud. Secure in gentle talons’ embrace, Jasmine rose and set. She split, twining up Owl’s toes, pale moonbeams sliding in between, Whoosh, Jasmine goes. Owl flew Jasmine between clouds and moon to Lee’s party! Moon, that wily bright balloon, was NOT alone. Jas grinned, stretched, reached, wrapped a new, around tender rootlet a trellis Sky held out to her, made of braided wind and song. Her green melody line twisted and clung. Because she was twining poet’s jasmine, she wiggled a wink back at Moon, and began her poem. Her whispered words floated on a puff of wind, filled with light and starsong. “Revelers, lean in – let’s add to this merriment a game that grows wordgifts for Lee. He’s a man who knows selection, collection, and wisely advising these dreamers, word-weavers, and friends.” Jas enfolded Moon-Sky-Owl into the cup of her petals, lifted new greens to the warming rays of spring. Sun smeared the horizon with colour, as Jasmine stretched
(I have stuck with the American spelling of my earlier co-poets – except for my line, which I just realised has ‘colour’, spelt the true-blue Aussie way!😀)
Right, wrong or otherwise, my line is done! It doesn’t sound very poetic – but it felt necessary. There are just two days left to resolve this poem. Two days, two poets, two lines… I hope I’ve made the job a little easier for April to propagate her poetry – and look forward to harvesting the completed poem from Doraine’s blog on Monday.
Progressive Poem Posts