A couple of weeks ago I went to a brilliant poetry workshoprun by the charming Joan Fleming, whose first collection 'The Same as Yes' was published by VUP last year.
Held at our avant garde Blue Oyster Gallery as an extension of an exhibition entitled Caves Are Made of Rock But Not This Cave featuring large pastel/pencil works by Sian Torrington to which Joan and Rachel O'Neill had collabortatively written repsonse poems to, the main focus of the 90-minute workshop was first Deletion poems and then Ekphrasic poems.
Exphrasis poems are a poetic response to an existing image or artwork which was a new process for me which primarily involved being lead, closed-eyed, right up to the drawings, opening one's eyes and writing down the first visceral/emotional burst that came into your head.
In my case such phrases as 'dense and dark' , 'candied-striped river' and 'silver wonder-wall' sprang to mind.
I then constructed into an actual poem by using, in my case, the linking word 'always'. Here it is:
When we find ourselves in dense
dark places let us
always dream instead
of the dancers
at the Follies-Bergere
Their beak-like legs
tapping out questions
the twitchers know
the answers too
Always on time
always in a line
a glittering silver
wonder-wall
of candy-striped
plummage
Cresting a wave
of skirts
rising
always rising.
It was great fun and an energising new way to look at an exhibition.
Only next time I need to go in the first few days, so I can write and share a responsive poem in time for anyone that's interested to enjoy the artworks as well.
Showing posts with label poems. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poems. Show all posts
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Dirty Linen
This is my rather cynical response to the media's insatiable appetite for gossip surrounding a 'fall from grace' by a [choose one] celebrity/sports star/business leader/politician ... but also how there is always money to be made when these things happen (on both sides of the white picket fence) BM
She stays away on business
but who is it that she meets?
None of us have secrets
from those who strip the sheets.
The baby wails welcome:
it’s not her papa that she greets.
Can secrets last a lifetime
when blood drips on the sheets?
Shareholders are our lifeblood
their fiscal terms we meet.
So we bury nasty secrets
to balance up the sheets.
‘Suck my toes, slave, suck!’
‘Yes, Mistress B,’ he bleats.
Secrets are so tiresome
to those who whip the sheets.
‘No comment. Give us peace!’
a full answer-phone entreats.
‘Your secrets are our duty,’
claim those who print the sheets.
‘Mea culpa. Mea culpa!’
the fallen one repeats.
More secrets in my tell-all book
—about to hit the streets.
© Beverly Martens
(various drafts)
Dirty Linen
She stays away on business
but who is it that she meets?
None of us have secrets
from those who strip the sheets.
The baby wails welcome:
it’s not her papa that she greets.
Can secrets last a lifetime
when blood drips on the sheets?
Shareholders are our lifeblood
their fiscal terms we meet.
So we bury nasty secrets
to balance up the sheets.
‘Suck my toes, slave, suck!’
‘Yes, Mistress B,’ he bleats.
Secrets are so tiresome
to those who whip the sheets.
‘No comment. Give us peace!’
a full answer-phone entreats.
‘Your secrets are our duty,’
claim those who print the sheets.
‘Mea culpa. Mea culpa!’
the fallen one repeats.
More secrets in my tell-all book
—about to hit the streets.
© Beverly Martens
(various drafts)
Monday, April 27, 2009
Flying Lessons
In the air
above Lake Ellesmere
dark right-angled shelter belts
frame the parched paddocks
like dropped Allen keys
Rigid forms butting up
against the curving coastline
Solid and liquid separated
by a finger trail
of shaving crème
Dun, indigo, aqua, ash grey…
It that all it takes:
a flying visit -
For me to finally embrace
our national airlines
new corporate colours?
© Beverly Martens
17/2/2009
above Lake Ellesmere
dark right-angled shelter belts
frame the parched paddocks
like dropped Allen keys
Rigid forms butting up
against the curving coastline
Solid and liquid separated
by a finger trail
of shaving crème
Dun, indigo, aqua, ash grey…
It that all it takes:
a flying visit -
For me to finally embrace
our national airlines
new corporate colours?
© Beverly Martens
17/2/2009
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Delivery
Delivery
Our smooth-calved mailman
drives up our hill at ten.
His mail is now pre-sorted
by machine
so he gets to sleep-in
but also wait a round.
He doesn’t get to me
‘til after three
as I’m helping
my neighbour Caroline
wrestle
the buggy-cum-bassinette
out of her car.
‘A few more cards today’ he says
stroking her newborn’s head
and then turns:
‘Nothing for you.’
© Beverly Martens
Published in Swings+Roundabouts
Poems on Parenthood
Random House, May 2008
Our smooth-calved mailman
drives up our hill at ten.
His mail is now pre-sorted
by machine
so he gets to sleep-in
but also wait a round.
He doesn’t get to me
‘til after three
as I’m helping
my neighbour Caroline
wrestle
the buggy-cum-bassinette
out of her car.
‘A few more cards today’ he says
stroking her newborn’s head
and then turns:
‘Nothing for you.’
© Beverly Martens
Published in Swings+Roundabouts
Poems on Parenthood
Random House, May 2008
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
White Tops
White Tops
From the 6th floor
I watch a windsurfer
slice across the bight
Tall, upright
and on speaking terms
with the wind
Free-loading for real
on a Friday afternoon
while all around me
air-conned co-workers
lean back too
on the bosses’ time
© Beverly Martens
Published in Otago Daily Times
11/12/07
From the 6th floor
I watch a windsurfer
slice across the bight
Tall, upright
and on speaking terms
with the wind
Free-loading for real
on a Friday afternoon
while all around me
air-conned co-workers
lean back too
on the bosses’ time
© Beverly Martens
Published in Otago Daily Times
11/12/07
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