With You Always
July 19, 2008
A market stall’s covering gently flutters
In the early Spring breeze,
As the scents of fruit and fresh bread mingle;
The young man gazes towards her
As she lowers excited eyes;
Crowds hurry looking for new things to buy.
How courage reaps rewards that reverberate,
Up to the heavens high;
Her smile stills all sounds that weave encircling;
The beauty of her face and soft voice
Kindle faint embers in his heart;
A bird merrily chirps in nearby trees.
Morning sun reflecting in her rich green eyes
Enrapture seduced passion,
Coursing through their consecrating psyches;
Soon he proposes by the brook
And a week later they marry
In a little church amongst joyful crowds.
Paradisiacal events then unfold
With the arrival of twins
Bringing exaltation to both parents;
Her red flushed cheeks shine like apples
As she watches their children play.
Love sits on thrones of permanence.
A Winter arrives that brings fearsome concern
As she sits by his bedside
Scared, for his life, whilst the doctor is called;
Tears soak the pillows where his head
Rests in her warm and tender embrace,
A sweet kiss breaks free the chains of sickness.
The children play with their toys, by the shined shoes
Of visiting guests and priest,
Her finest china cups are handed out,
Conversations float through hallways
Where life continues resolute;
His gaze rests upon her resplendent brow.
Wrinkles and blemishes emerge as years pass,
Yet her prettiness remains,
Sitting sipping tea they talk through the nights,
Laughing at their shared memories
And drying her moistening eyes,
Then dancing in flickering candle light.
Old age ravages the once soft skin of youth,
As eyes watch passing seasons,
And memories slowly fade away;
He studies the contours of his love,
Sitting quietly sleeping peacefully.
Silently watching her life disappear.
“It is sad”, says the daughter to the doctor.
“My father died years ago”.
She picks up a small silver square,
From the dressing table nearby.
Faint tear stains rest discernable,
Trapped in the frame of an old photograph.
© Edward Beaman-Hodgkiss
Poetry Prompt 2 - ‘Birth’
July 18, 2008
When she was born, according to the late American actress Gracie Allen, she was so surprised she didn’t talk for another year and a half. Thankfully the birth of life, new adventures or friendships don’t render participants speechless in such a fashion. This week’s Poetry Prompt subject is “Birth”.
Write a poem related to this word which could, for example, include the birth of a child, the budding of a new career opportunity, a religious epiphany or the beginnings of a loving relationship or marriage. The possibilities are endless. If you have written a poem before with particular pertinence to this subject and it is online somewhere, then you may include that.
When you have completed the poem, post the direct link in the ‘auto-links’ box below and also make a comment in the comment’s section. Before or following this, take time over the coming week to visit other entries from fellow poets and add a friendly comment or two regarding what you felt about their poem. Remember, this prompt can only work and flourish if we create a dynamic community or writers and readers alike willing to make visits to other websites and blogs.
I will create a round-up of my personal favourite pieces next Thursday evening but remember, this is not a competition. If you need any help or advice, then either contact me or pose a question in the comments section and I’m sure someone will be available to give you a hand. Enjoy!
Badges for ‘Poetry Prompt’ can be found here.
Poetry Prompt Round-Up 1
July 17, 2008
The first weekly round-up of last week’s ‘Poetry Prompt 1′ has arrived and I am delighted by the number of contributions for this new poetic adventure. It’s always a bushel of uncertainty when embarking upon such exciting conceptions as to whether they will appeal to others and indeed, catch alight and spread. This week’s results are therefore a very gratifying sign that the new weekly Pen Me A Poem Poetry Prompt is germinating with invigorated assuredness.
At the time of writing this, there are eleven entries that have been submitted into the comments section. For a website that is a month old and for an extremely new prompt, this is wonderful.
The very first poem submitted to last week’s comments section was ‘To Go Back In Time‘ by Nunyaa. It’s tick-tocking repetition in a similar vein to a Villanelle is a wonderfully rich allegory to the subject of the piece.
Second was a blogger from Texas who shared her very first prose on a new blog called ‘Veracruz Flowers‘. I certainly hope she continues. I do share the views of another commentator about the spacing of the piece being a little compact but that is not a big problem at all.
Then there is the intensity of the chase followed by the depression of captivity from Beamer which used a very suitable structure to provoke the desired emotions I’m sure he intended.
Scott Killen masterfully creates an allegory to Christ in his poem ‘Inspiration‘ which is a beautiful oblation to religious poetry and faith. I especially like the ending.
The fourth entry was a dark and haunting piece titled ‘The Only Escape‘ by the prolific writer Jane Doe. She uses imagery that would marry perfectly with a horror film and that is an asseveration to the quality of this poem.
Kat Rice uses short repetition, indicative of thoughts flickering through the mind, throughout ‘Stifled Serenade from the Soul‘. This is perfect for an internal reflective piece about romance and the pains associated with it. Her use of words to describe the fears and hurts are an intelligently polished example of a gifted writer.
The first French visitor to the Poetry Prompt section was Tiniak who wrote ‘The Lady Rose Higher‘. For a poet to write in a language which is not their mother tongue is an impressive task and I feel this poem is an enchanting result of such an effort. The picture accompanying the poem as well as the silky softness reminds me of ‘The Little Prince’ by Antoine de Saint Exupéry.
Keith of Keith’s Ramblings poem ‘Because‘ was structurally as simple as the title yet extremely profound in possible meanings and depth. It’s a sad piece that as a fellow commentator said, can be taken in a number of ways.
‘Black‘ by Lissa sent my mental visuals into overdrive. It was much like drinking a flaming cocktail and the resulting ‘wow’ afterwards.
The final entry, at the time of writing this, was ‘Protecting the Innocent‘ from the blog ‘Empty Garden’. It’s an interesting piece that reads like a devoted lover torn by separation which they are trying to figure out with the action of writing words on paper. The terrible emotions being released as tears. Well worth a read.
I would like to conclude this round-up with a thank you to all those who contributed a poem to the very first Pen Me A Poem Poetry Prompt. There will be one every week starting on Fridays at 6pm, London time. As with today, I will complete a general round-up of entries, depending on the number of entrants, on the following Thursday. If you enjoyed your visit and participation, I would be delighted if you could spread the word and link back to the site. In the ‘widgets’ section you will see a number of pictorial links, if you are of an artistic persuasion, to put on your blog or website, if you so choose.
Diane Vogel Ferri
July 17, 2008
Diane Vogel Ferri
I invited Diane to answer a few questions especially for ‘Pen Me A Poem’ and I am most grateful for her acceptance and enlightening responses.
Welcome Diane. When did you start writing poetry?
It’s very interesting to me how I started writing poetry because I knew nothing about poetry and did not even read poetry at the time. About 15 years ago I was going through a very traumatic time in my life and poetry just started coming out of a place in my subconscious. It was mostly raw and angry and full of emotions and questions. A few of those poems I would actually still consider pretty good, although I have learned what “good” (acceptable) poetry is through a lot of classes, workshops and critiques over the years.
Who have been the greatest literary influences in your life?
I have no influences in poetry because I wrote poems before I read any contemporary poets. In my fiction writing however, I think I’ve been influenced by every novel I’ve ever read. I can’t choose one particular author, but over the years I just felt that I could express myself in writing fiction as they had. Hopefully I have a style all my own.
What was the process you went through when getting your poetry published and the resulting thoughts and feelings?
I have published individual poems in a number of journals at this point, but I am working on a book collection to publish soon, I hope. A poem is like one of your babies- you work on it and nurture it over a period of time and you come to love it. It’s part of you. When a poem is accepted for publication is very satisfying, even thrilling. You will see all your efforts come to fruition and your work is validated. Publishing is a long and tedious process. The markets for fiction and poetry are competitive and your chances of publication are slim, but you’ll never be published if you don’t try. Another poet advised me that when a rejection comes in, just refold the poem, stuff it in another envelope and send to the next place!
‘Flying Over Midnight‘ was your first novel. What is it about?
To be honest it is about that traumatic time in my life that I mentioned earlier. It is about a woman with two children whose life is turned upside down and the emotional and spiritual crises she goes through. I wrote the book I would have liked to have read at that time in my life in hopes that it would touch someone else and give them hope. I call it my learning book - instead of studying writing I actually did it.
You write a blog called “Coexist” How important is religion in your life and the issues that face the world today?
I saw “Coexist” on a bumper sticker one day and thought that one word provided the solutions to all the world’s problems. Just think if we all knew how to coexist peacefully! We’d have no need for newspapers and news programs! While I am a churchgoer, I find the word religious somewhat confining. Religion is a set of man-made traditions and rituals for the most part. I find many of those rituals meaningful and important, but I also believe that religion is not always Godly. I am a very spiritual person and I believe that we all are spiritual - it’s just that the world we live in pushes out the opportunities to know our spiritual sides unless we make concerted efforts to know ourselves and have a relationship with God.
Who is Anais Nin?
She was a writer of the 1930’s who was ahead of her time as a female writer and a bit of a feminist. Her most famous work is her seven published diaries, which I admire for her honestly and her beautiful writing.
You are a special education teacher. What does your job mean to you?
I love kids and have always been proud to be an advocate for special needs children. The job is thankless and often stressful, but most of that comes from government and administrative decisions and not the children.
Tell us more about your family and how they have influenced your writing.
I think being a mother has had the biggest influence on my life and my writing. The focus of my new book is really a young unwed mother’s struggles to raise her daughter. I didn’t plan this story , it sort of wrote itself. I was not an unwed mother, but the sacrifice and love that mother’s have for their children is universal. I have a son and daughter both in their twenties now and I can’t imagine my life with out them.
Diane Vogel Ferri, thank you for taking the time to answer these questions for ‘Pen Me A Poem’. I appreciate it greatly. Below is one of your poems which you very generously agreed to share.
Stalking
The blue heron has been at the edge
of the pond all morning stalking fish
with surreal patience, with the stillness
of a lawn ornament or my unmoving
body lying next to yours at night.
He makes no sound, just like us.
The fish does not know that the heron
is there, even though surely it could look up
and see what is so close.
The heron crouches low, just as I am
sometimes, as we are,
half of what could be.
Then the great bird sees what it wants,
its mouth plunges into the water and pulls
out the prize that will sustain its life.
The fish does not fight the inevitable.
The heron stands proudly upright to savor
the moment before swallowing the fish whole.
© Diane Vogel Ferri
Poetry Prompt 1
July 13, 2008
Welcome to the very first ‘Pen Me A Poem’ poetry prompt!
As Leonard Bernstein once said, “Inspiration is wonderful when it happens, but the writer must develop an approach for the rest of the time… The wait is simply too long”. It is for this precise reason that I have decided to start a weekly prompt for devotees and practitioners of poetry and verse. Each Friday at approximately 18:00 (London time) I will provide an inspiring and stimulating cue from which you can then create your very own poem or short poetic prose. When you feel it is ready for other people to read then copy and paste the link in the comment section of the individual ‘Poetry Prompt’ post.
This can only work if other writers and readers visit these websites and blogs which the authors kindly provide links to and leave comments as to what they thought of the work and related general feedback.
Following on from this, every Thursday I will complete a round-up of my favourite poems and prose from the links provided and publish them with a short description and reasons for finding them particularly appealing, in a brand new post.
This is not a competition or popularity contest but merely a place where poets and readers alike can assemble and enjoy the fruits of each other’s work. See this as an ideal environment in which to creatively express such things as dreams, hopes, inner feelings, loves, humour, tragedy, personal events and above all, a place to make new contacts and relationships with people who share similar passions.
Relax, sit down, read through some poetry, then try writing some of your own. There are no restrictions or obligations whatsoever apart from trying to keep to the basic flavour of the weekly prompt given. Anyone, anywhere in the world, is welcome to participate.
As this week is the first and one that will also finish rather sooner than the following prompts, the subject matter is therefore any theme you so wish. Show poems from your present collection or write a new one especially. Let us share and experience your poetry as a group but above all, enjoy your visits and interactions with myself and others at ‘Pen Me A Poem’.
A round-up of this prompt will be published on Thursday 17th July.
The 2nd prompt will begin on Friday 18th July.
A Cat’s Morning
July 11, 2008
Unfurling form blossoms; a mindful wave.
Tired, its eyes of tailored hubris seek out
The dawn’s commencement; sleep, breached and dissolved
With a stretching of consciousness devout.
A coriaceous nose sniffs the still air,
Exploiting senses, keen; kind nature’s gift.
Flames of hunger flicker from deep inside
Its belly; the warm bed is left adrift
Receding to the shadows far behind.
The small creature, royally promenading,
Moves onto the landing towards steep stairs
As food is placed, with calls, serenading.
The feline’s self-obedience is lost.
It descends frantic, then, scampers apace
To the kitchen where soft salmon chunks lie;
Joyous feasting, later a fond embrace.
© Edward Beaman-Hodgkiss
Big Ass, Little Dog
July 11, 2008
My life, my youth, so short, so loved.
Above, the creaking of her chair –
Soon I shall to the ground be shoved;
Shaped to a square.
My legs, will not withstand the weight
That floats menacingly on high,
Threatening to bones desecrate,
I cannot defy.
Faith lost, beneath the monumental,
With its slow and fateful descent,
Soon to make my face ornamental,
On cold cement!
Fibres slowly rupture though muted,
As I make ready, to succumb,
Under her mass to be routed,
Oh dear her bum!
© Edward Beaman-Hodgkiss
Hunger
July 11, 2008
A flicker of murder - a blood stained mind.
Perversive ripples caress fires of lust,
Death’s bayonets, shimmering blades entwined,
Scraping her burning flesh with constant thrusts
Effusing from inside, growing firmer
By the minute, as starvation murmurs.
Faint sounds of a food bowl laid to ground
And the human call, a golden chorus.
Flamed feline temptation spryly unbound
As legs hurry. The air so porous
In quality, leaking the noisome scent
Of cold slaughtered meat; a wave of consent.
Danger! A larger predator, growling
Near the chopped browning carcass; jelly veiled.
Slowly it slides, in its void patrolling,
Minacious movements of intent detailed
Before the cat’s gaze. Further dreadful sounds
As the malevolent giant more compounds.
Summer winds powerfully heave outside,
Fondling the threatened feline’s brindled fur.
For her food she must by the titan glide
Into the kitchen - where relief can purr
And devour; she then dissolves through the gap
As the door is blown to it’s closing snap.
© Edward Beaman-Hodgkiss
Remember Me
July 11, 2008
Stay sleeping my love, for I’m not here long;
I want you to be strong:
The angels are singing and calling my name,
This soul they do proclaim;
I’ve come tonight my dear to say goodbye,
And for a brief moment with you close lie.
We ran to the planes, when the bell had rung,
A rushing of the young,
The smell of daisies, mixed with engine oil,
Drifted amongst our toil;
Cries of encouragement, we shouted out,
‘God bless! For our country!’ Strong hearts devout.
I’ll miss the soft touch of your crimson lips
That did my fears eclipse;
Those pale green eyes, that filled my every thought
Will soon be but distraught.
Sumptuous streaming hair, heaven’s perfume,
My yearning for you now does hope consume.
We rose as one, a blanket of aircraft,
I wish we could have laughed!
The engines roared and the wind groaned outside,
Below the ground did hide,
Beams of luminosity, danced round about,
Inside our cockpits, some feeble redoubt.
I’ll leave you with my wings, oft so proudly worn,
To give our child unborn,
One day tell him that his father had to leave,
But please don’t let him grieve.
‘I fought above England’s fertile pastures green,
So that you my son could flourish serene’.
© Edward Beaman-Hodgkiss
The Polish Girl
July 10, 2008
Glimpse I the sea’s of Ireland in sapphire’d eyes,
Which shimmer bright and forlorn mists dispel;
Your gaze a crystal tapestry comprised.
Laughter from thy succulent crimson lips,
Caresses the air that excites my heart;
As you dance your form does the moon eclipse,
Whilst whispering romance my dreams you impart.
On a bed of sumptuousness rests a pearl,
A ladanki for honeyed tongues of ours;
Your smooth velvet skin, a flower unfurled
From heaven’s touch, gleams and fills my hours.
Just one kiss from your pretty smile I steal,
Forever then our bonded fates be sealed.
© Edward Beaman-Hodgkiss
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