I love the idea of a freeflowing exchange of creative and soulful thoughts...and thus came my poetry roundtable idea.
Juices flow best if left to their own devices, so please know it's more about speaking to what moves you in the moment, abstractly or otherwise, and less about rhyme or syntax. I personally think those two things interfere with poetry anyways. Perhaps it's more of a story than a poem, or a story told via this medium, or what have you. It's wide open.
I see it evolving like this: I'll post the initial line of the poem below and if you are so moved, add a line in the comments section. After a day or two I'll compile it all, title it based on what we've collectively written and post our creation in all it's glory.
Game on, sisters (and you too, occasional brothers). We can keep each other warm.
A crimson stain spreads round her feet
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
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16 comments:
she hastily, franticly gathers the layers of her billowy skirt as if the stain were hot embers
burning through her
confronting her
with power and pain
..or at least it seemed that way to the odd observer...
TG
She backed away from the spreading putrid stain, and stifled the scream rising in her throat.
filling her with deep red peace.
(Using your title of a few days ago, which is what this made me think of.)
but a scarlet dove will never fly.
and so grounded, must teach her mind to soar
above the anchors that weigh her heart
I will stand back and watch the magic happen, that is not a contribution to the poem by the way....
to the living road.
Thus, a prayer soared from her red ebb and flow; this last anamnesis draining.
with life and earth clenched in her fists, she cries to thrive
delicious, though her flowing vein
time never seemed to move so slow
as he watched her
unable to comprehend
unable to empathize
He thought the red sun center might scorch him
[I deleted my last line because I'm a shameless self-editor]
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