tumors of the lips- calling the travelling pack of poets

[Cate]

- I tried to use Manna's flower, Woody's first line, plus I stole Mats seed and dew. I'm not sure if it follows heavens blaze or not - but oh well.

Springs kiss brings the first flower

Shivering into the morning
light without a shadow to support her.
Her fingers dance along midnights dew
tracing a path, in a small patch of wispy
grass, to a bank smooth and bare.
To this moist earth she places her mouth
and draws a stream, led by her tongue;
it's waters flow sweet along the path
she traces, to a seed left fallowed, waiting
for dawns first light, her touch and drink.
A bud rises and begins to grow. With gentle
lips and teeth, Spring opens each petal
of this, an almost perfect flower.


(edit note from to years later - I removed the preface of 'a bit cheesy')

[Violet]

Okay it's a bit cheesy - I tried to use Manna's flower, Woody's first line, plus I stole Mats seed and dew. I'm not sure if it follows heavens blaze or not - but oh well.

Springs kiss brings the first flower

Shivering into the morning
light without a shadow to support her.
Her fingers dance along midnights dew
tracing a path, in a small patch of wispy
grass, to a bank smooth and bare.
To this moist earth she places her mouth
and draws a stream, led by her tongue;
it's waters flow sweet along the path
she traces, to a seed left fallowed, waiting
for dawns first light, her touch and drink.
A bud rises and begins to grow. With gentle
lips and teeth, Spring opens each petal
of this, an almost perfect flower.

Hi Cate, thanks for the prior comment, although I think of that particular poem or continuation of a poem, and maybe my poetry in general, as being more metaphysical than romantic... although I'm sure there are exceptions to that, or perhaps my romantic self is in some manner folded in there somehow... Anyway, it's something now to ponder...

As for your poem, it feels to me to be that almost perfect flower you mention in the last line as well... so very lovely, its imagery a kind of magical realism well realized...

I got a bit tripped up on the "tongue" line, but thought you could start the next line with that phrase:

Led by her tongue, its waters...

(just a thought)...

thanks for all the beauty here,

v i o l e t

[woody]

some beautfiul poems. i love cate's... especially 'To this moist earth she places her mouth
and draws a stream, led by her tongue;' i feel i'm being seduced in the reading. i will reflect fully in time... i will let it settle in my mind and mouth and speak more.
here is my naked utterance to spring... to new beginnings and new births

Spring

I have forgotten myself
And my words. Kiss
Me in my weakness
The winds are changing,
My heart has hardened
With age, I'm undone

By a gentle breeze.
I'm a fool now spring
Has come. My heart is
Like an open book;
A child's letter to
God. The flowers leave

Me weeping bright tears,
The birds and breeze
Open my heart like
Petals to the heat
The old chains of thought
Now lay down their arms

My heart is wrestled
Away from itself
The lord begins to
Sing in the hour when
Spring finally arrives
I run down the path

And breathe the dew, where
The morning glories
Have started to open,
Cold and shivering,
Without a shadow
To support them.

[imaginary friend]

Luverly Woody!

The birds and breeze

...made me smile.


One tiny thing jarred a little:

I run down the path

...Strolling – or even striding – down the path seems to be more in keeping with the pace of experiencing Spring than running*...

*save that for Summer

[mat james]

Hi ; Woody, imaginaryfriend, Cate, Violet, Manna and all,

Without a shadow
To support them.

I like the teasing reference to imaginaryfriend's line, Woody, ' without a shadow to support her. '

Now you have me gently sauntering from imaginary friend, Cate, Woody and...
...imaginary friend's opening verse is a great example of what Woody calls "naked".
My self-centred-ness wants ( as Woody says, " i feel i'm being seduced" ) to interpret 'Spring' in Cate's follow up poem as that DNA-time-traveller to whom "soft she hums my ancient name..." was sung in my recent version of "Genetic Genesis" above...
Or maybe I just have tunnel vision?

But back to the beginning of (.if's. inspired) Cate's, 'Springs kiss brings the first flower '
It's an alluring opening i.f/ initiates and Cate diverges from,

Shivering into the morning
light without a shadow to support her.
Her fingers dance along midnights dew

I wouldn't change those two beautiful opening lines of imaginary friends; (well, just one little word )
Though, I offer a few subtle/small changes Cate, to first person and immediacy:

Shivering into the morning
light without a shadow to support my
fingers dancing along midnight's dew...

and so on.
That way you become that tongue-licker of wilderness and Spring.

but/or: if you're not into 'first person', then perhaps,

Shivering into the morning
light without a shadow to support her
fingers, dancing along midnight's dew...

or perhaps;

Shivering into morning's
light without a shadow to support her
fingers, dancing midnight's dew...

But I'm not sure; they are only thoughts and tumbles.
That is a great opening line imaginary friend and your invitation is springing to life.
These ideas/visions are certainly worth treating like potter's clay, to we mud-lovers.



MatbbgJ

[imaginary friend]

Oohhh Mat,

I'd love to accept the credit you've given me for those opening lines... but I must 'fess up that the credit belongs to Woody originally:

Woody wrote:
If it makes you feel more comfortable, I will disrobe completely and offer up a poem I wrote late in the night. It is poor and weak like me. Consider this me naked, staggering, shivering into the morning light without a shadow to support me. You are free to tear me down but I prefer if you viewed it as a friendly challenge.

(my bolding)

and secondarily to Manna:

...who wrote:
shivering into the morning light without a shadow to support me.


This is a good start. Please finish this poem about the first flower of spring.

I merely responded to Manna's challenge. But I loved that idea of Woody's '.. a poet is a naked person', so attempted to incorporate some tongue-in-cheek nakedness... and thankfully, Violet redeemed my 'voice'

PS: Cate – I like your poem a lot – it is so sensual – all that tongue-licking. The first post I ever read of yours was a response in one of the 'Book of Mercy' threads – you posted your own female, sensual interpretation, and the others (I think Mat included) were stunned into silence for days!

[Violet]

Hi I. F....

... okay, I know I'm supposed to read these whole threads... but... I didn't exactly do that this time... so... missed the "tongue in cheek" part, and thought I'd rescue you from such a fate as your little poem suggested (not uncommon among most women, I might add)... But this just adds I think to my sense that history -- and just about everything in fact, even follow-up poems -- is founded on some kind of misunderstanding...

v i o l e t xxx

[mat james]

shivering into the morning light without a shadow to support me.

A toast to Woody's brilliant line then. Go Woody!

[Cate]

HI Violet thank you for your nice comments and your line break suggestion - line breaks and rhythm (which I'm not worrying about yet) trip me up, there's something about the to's that are bothering to (hehe to many to's), so I think I'll come back to it later and see if I can figure it out and fix.

Hi Cate, thanks for the prior comment, although I think of that particular poem or continuation of a poem, and maybe my poetry in general, as being more metaphysical than romantic... although I'm sure there are exceptions to that, or perhaps my romantic self is in some manner folded in there somehow... Anyway, it's something now to ponder...

Ms. V you rushed in to 'save' I.F. and transformed her N into a vision adorned in love, I think that's romantic ... but then I've never had a good grasp of romantic, so I might have been using the word in the wrong way.

---
It was interesting to me that both Woody and Mat said they felt they were being seduced, I'm glad it could be read that way and it made me feel happy that you both said that. Mat, I was trying to incorporate your DNA/instinct/nature feel to what I was writing. Even though it wouldn't lead to any literal propagation outside of love, I still liked the idea. It's funny I actually had started the poem as first person and then I switched to third as I thought that was more reader friendly, if I go back to it I might try it out that way.

Sheila thank you for your kind words, you always have such a nice way of phrasing things. I like that Book of Mercy thread but I feel a bit out of my depth so I guiltily would rather read then write there, so thank you for saying that, although I don't really like the idea of stunning people into silence - I'm a bit shy for that.

[Cate]

... to new beginnings and new births

Spring

I have forgotten myself
And my words. Kiss
Me in my weakness
The winds are changing,
My heart has hardened
With age, I'm undone

By a gentle breeze.
I'm a fool now spring
Has come. My heart is
Like an open book;
A child's letter to
God. The flowers leave

Me weeping bright tears,
The birds and breeze
Open my heart like
Petals to the heat
The old chains of thought
Now lay down their arms

My heart is wrestled
Away from itself
The lord begins to
Sing in the hour when
Spring finally arrives
I run down the path

And breathe the dew, where
The morning glories
Have started to open,
Cold and shivering,
Without a shadow
To support them.

I like this interpretation of spring, the softening of a hardened heart. It's kinda like an everything has it's time piece with N coming to and accepting this new place and way of being. I could see this as Spring being a new love or as Spring being a new way of seeing the world.

I like these spring poems. March is such a harsh month full of extremes, it's hard not to have a heavy heart at this time of year. Hard not to think of the could have beens, should have beens and people we miss.

[Violet]

To Woody et. al.,

I thought to post here the poem that always comes to my mind this time of year... especially the lines... when all at once I saw a crowd, a host of golden daffodils... I especially like the last stanza as well...

Here's to spring...

v i o l e t


Daffodils (1804)

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretch'd in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee;
A poet could not be but gay,
In such a jocund company!
I gazed –– and gazed –– but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

By William Wordsworth (1770-1850)

[imaginary friend]

Violet quoted Wordsworth:
I gazed –– and gazed –– but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

Dear V,

I have held those last lines close to my heart for years.
And I've stored my own 'daffodils' too, to reflect on when the spirit needs lifting. I'll share a few:

...We are hard at work just after noon on a warm Summer's day. It is quiet in our ground floor office; the clanging of nearby construction has subsided for the lunch break. Suddenly, a strong tenor voice rings out, and we hurry to the door to see what the heck is happening. There across the street, sitting 4 or 5 storeys up on the edge of the floor, we see a construction worker, still in his hard hat and overalls, his lunch pail beside him – singing to an enthralled street below. People have literally stopped in their tracks to listen. After that single aria, he stands up, bows to enthusiastic applause, and moves back into the shadows of the half-finished building.

... We are vacationing on St. Lucia, en route to a small beach on the island accessible only by boat. The shoreline is parallel, and distant, but the water is calm, and the speed of our little boat creates a welcome breeze. To our right (I suppose that should be starboard), we see a large sailboat approaching, heading towards the shoreline. It crosses just a few metres in front of our bow. It is a beautiful boat, and we slow to let it pass. Then we see that there is a man water-skiing behind it on a surfboard. He does not look at us as he stands naked, tanned, and regal as a golden Greek God. We follow him with our eyes until he is a spec, then wonder if we imagined it.

(I tear-up every single time I think of this one):
... I'm attending the high school graduation of my 16-year old nephew Gallagher, who has Down's Syndrome, at the beautiful Orpheum Theatre in Vancouver. Row by row, the students who are to receive awards are asked to move up to seating at the back of the stage. My sister becomes a bit concerned when Gallagher follows the students from his row onto the stage, but we quickly relax – Gallagher is well-loved by students and staff, and we know he'll be tolerated/kept in line by his peers. The ceremony drones on, until the award for 'The Student Who Has Contributed the Most to Foster Student Relationships in the School' is announced – and the winner is Gallagher. Beaming, he bounces up to the front of the stage, where we expect him to shake hands and accept his award like all the other students have. Not Gallagher. He throws both hands up in the V-sign and turns slowly facing first one side of the audience then the other. The entire audience gets to its feet cheering and roaring. Gallagher makes no move to leave the stage and has to be gently led back to his seat, as the applause continues.

XO

Sheila

[Cate]

Sheila thank you so much for sharing these stories, what wonderful memories.

[Violet]

Hi Sheila,

I love this imagery you've created with your memories... each something quite cinematic as well... I'm liking the construction worker aria a lot... nice idea for a character I think... and the nude surfer is surreal... just sailing by... yes, I see him too... (yeah... too much xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx going on on these threads... it infects the brain xxx)(and other areas as well)... xxxx And your nephew's story is so very heart warming, and reminds me somehow of someone who graduated from my art school... a very very odd person, bit of a recluse, obsessive, and talented, and who a number of us fellow students came to be totally charmed by... and really, it could easily have gone the other way, he might have been ignored or even reviled, he was that strange of a person... anyway, it was so lovely at our graduation when we all stood up and clapped for him and cheered as he received his diploma... (I think his parents were in complete shock)...

... so thanks for sharing with us your little host of daffodils, i. f.,

v i o l e t xxx

[imaginary friend]

Cate and Vi,

Thanks for your appreciation of my 'little wild bouquet'.


Woody,

You've unleashed a lotta love and considerable nakedness in this thread. Are ya ready for more?