Saturday, November 5, 2016

Brick,ing morphed

If All the World’s a Cage, … ?

Episode 1: Opus of our ages

Chum was a baritone.
In a cacophony of siblings he tuned out.
Dressed in manly muscle, disposed to callouses, 
he sang havenward, a barista on the edge of other, 
in the hungry spirit of the nation – in a world at war.
Chum-me, food-ration stamps once in-hand on a butter errand
Blinks life out of focus, stoned by the smell of coffee.
The unquestionable truth slips into dark-sided possible.
Catapulted, not coerced, holding still to unifying News.
Radio, rations and service. Filling life preserves with milkweed kapok
Together – a future in business – an only son.

Episode 2: Colors of the Cages

Papy did not hug.
Hand-speaking and baked in the mold: high demand, no mistakes,
he colored between the blood-lines,
kept his stories closely guarded, read the paper
watched the nightly news. His world with color bars 
on TV and discomfort about a women’s movement
gathered some light, corrugated placards readied for ‘half-baked’,
(his words) resistance, well-worn Crayolas, unboxed
and a brick. His war was also a “conflict”.
Overalls, backpack, 10-speed road ready bike and brick.
Author,ing lines of resistance - to author – ity.
An eldest daughter – goes off to college prepared for brick,ing.

Episode 3:  Aromatic Inner sages

Has every one smelled the coffee?
A rear-view mirror on history beset us with melancholy and foreboding
We have the days of our fathers, the years of our distance and now – 
Memory resides in lines. We return again and again. We keep them safely guarded.
Our lenses scratched. Vision muted with walls of images, words and
Adult Coloring Books with fanciful color within the lines whimsy. Brick’ing is legendary. 

The war – is on Truth 

The prompt was to write a poem with a partner for the title drawn randomly. We drew  All the World a Cage. My partner and I both said we were feeling oppressed by the challenges truth appeared to be having especially in the now varied and constant media and this phrase immediately brought that top of mind.  Before gathering I had started a poem somewhat on the topic of resistance - searching my own history with advocacy for justice. It was very incomplete. My notes follow with the exception of the inserted "title".


I pledge to resist, author
ing lines of movements
resistance to form
to voice, author-ity,

Father did not hug, Baked in the mold
high demand, no mistakes
hand speaking, Papy preferring to color be
-tween the blood lines.

Crayolas, unboxed
corrugate readied for
'half baked' (his words)
resistance, a brick.

overalls, backpack, bike and brick --
for college, for now, for how?
All the worlds a cage
damaged beyond repair
utterly un-savable.

Saturday Morning Poetry Group

It is always fascinating to see how a group of people respond differently to the same task. We are such a product of our filters, lenses and life experiences. One thing everyone did seem to have in common was wanting others to hear their poem.

Being part of this group helps me take time for reflection. For this I am grateful.

It was an active engagement prompt day. 1st we could, has a team or independently, compose cinquains (five line poems) using three different methods.  Results follow:

is Life.
Sacred river place
Stand with Standing Rock

pregnant - winter
celebrating, abiding.  Holding
regrets is useless

Conclusion - No
Today we write five lines
To laugh. To Rhyme. To be unstuck