Showing posts with label birthday poem. Show all posts
Showing posts with label birthday poem. Show all posts

Tuesday, April 1, 2014

Three plus one: four poems for a birthday

TORCH 
I was born the day my mother stopped being pregnant
           a full-baked warm wetness taking its first breath
flame flickering, a miniature torch; a moth fluttering
against the pane, the porch. She held: a curved moon-nail,
thistle-like lock, darkened milk; and the clarinetist curled
slow circles around the moon


WISH 
the crack of eggs, the weight of flour, chocolate powder
             look with your eyes not your fingers
no matter how blue the cake, as enticing
as fields of broccoli under chocolate snow, smoke-wisped
dreams mummified in molten wax, and then the wish –
clenched and secret




SHADOW 
In the starkness of the candlelight, I hold your shadow-
            contoured face in delicious stasis
a moment captured on un-stretched canvas, spread 
on your garage floor, when birthdays were as simple as
ice cream and jelly, butterfly cakes and fairy bread
the candles were extinguished, the parcels passed
scraping marzipan from Christmas memories


EXPLOSION 
The fork poised like a promise – a series of pigtail-framed
              balloon-cheeks in the yellow flamelight
(each year: 365 ingredients whirled around in the mixer,
its new shape given over to rising, a sweet rebirth).
We watch the cake explode in flames

 TP is three plus one. Whoopee! Yippee! Pass the Sally Lunn!



*

Today marks the fourth birthday of Tuesday Poem. 
The series began on April 13 2010 after a casual start with a bunch of poems on Mary McCallum's blog O Audacious BookFrom there, the group migrated to this site and grew in contributors and mission. Each week a different Tuesday Poet takes a turn at editing the main page here -- selecting a poem, getting permission to run it, and writing up a response. A personal choice and response each week, and many more opportunities to share poetry at members' blogs as well (see sidebar, left). 

We celebrate poetry every week, but birthdays are special because each year in March/ April we build something collaboratively in one giant poetry celebration. Each of our 'birthday poems' has been unique in its blend of voices and rhythms. In 2011, the first birthday saw an ode to Tyr in honour of Tuesdays and the way we celebrate poetry; in 2012 we wrote a collaborative poem line-by-line, each poet building on the previous poet's cadence and image; last year, we chose a jazzy riff as our theme, with participating poets contributing entire stanzas to a poem that unfolded over weeks in rhythm, repetition and syncopation. 

This year, we tried something a little different. We asked contributing poets to send a line that included something about either birthdays or food or both, and to send the line blind -- that is, without seeing any other contributions. We gathered the lines one by one and rearranged them into a whole. We tried several different approaches but we finally settled on four small verses, each creating something special. It was much much harder than we imagined when we set out to paste these lines together -- how to fit blue cake with a clarinetist's curls, or fairy bread with the explosion of candles? In the end, these four vignettes fitted together to form what feels like a whole and including a birth and a light, a cake and a secret, a moment and a memory, and anticipation and celebration.

We hope you are as delighted as we are with how this experiment turned out. What fun to have such rich images to work with. What a pleasure to glue pieces together and watch this poetry page take shape -- this line moved from there to here; this image matched with this sound. 


I should also add the note that only one of the three editors working on this birthday poem knew the identity of the poets submitting, so it's a special birthday surprise as well to see who has contributed such delicious morsels to this sweet feast. Thank you all!  


-Michelle Elvy, TP Hub sub-editor, with Mary McCallum and Claire Beynon

Participating poets, in the order their lines appear (but not in the order they submitted)
TORCH: Rethable Masilo, Renee Liang, Michelle Elvy, Elizabeth Welsh, Claire Beynon
WISH: Mary McCallum, Harvey Molloy, T. Clear, P S Cottier, Helen McKinlay, Catherine Bateson
SHADOW: Andrew Bell, Saradha Koirala, Catherine Fitchett, Janis Freegard, Tim Jones
EXPLOSION: Kathleen Ferber, Helen Rickerby, Eileen Moeller, A J Ponder, Keith Westwater




~


Tuesday, April 23, 2013

3rd Birthday Communal ‘Jazz’ Poem: Scratch

1.
When looking back
choose your mirror well

2.
This memory, I know, is less like a recording
and more like Chinese whispers
but still I replay it

3.
Who scratched, who scratched,
who scratched this surface?
Shud-shudder-shuddering
lined rep-rep
                    repetition

4.
Is it you, Lily, hiding again
behind white linen corners of the laundry line?
Your oboe voice criss-crossing time
then snapping back on the wind

5.
Her voice stumbles into silence
glasses the sea's surface to mirror
the bright burning Sumatran tiger sky
stretching, snapping, scratching and
reeling out the spool of memory

6.
Yes! It is you, Tiger Lily, it is you!
Come, reach for me, speak to me in tongues of memories
unlatch the thunder from this silence
unwind me, remind me when it was

7.
catch the
(whispers)
it's time to
(latch the window)
catch the 
      grab it! the tail     oh boy

8.
Miss Lily's a teaser
Miss Lily's a cat
don't try to appease her
she'll disappear fast —

9.
boy in the dark, when Lily come back
from powdering her nose and
brushing whiskers,
take his chance. Lily purr smoke in his face
inside the last dance

10.
follow the glance, the shoulder
the line of breath held in and out
we've only scratched the surface
of what this dance could unwind

11.
there's the trombone girl
kicking through a drift of notes,
Death dancing with the boy
in black while way out the back
they're dealing in words - Miss Lily
doubles down.

12.
Breathe, Lily, the air is rising
the meter fresh out of ivory notes
- tickled -
and so easily plucked.
Tonight we go hunting.

13.
Oh boy. Inside the last dance
dealing, doubling, doubting
and hunting for what?
Always more, Lily. Always more
smooth moves, music, conundrums,
exclamations

14.
Who can catch this cat?
Whispers in the mirror,
whiskers in the window,
a smoking piano, a shuddering key?

15.
(piano) tip toe (forte) oh! Bow
across whiskery strings.
Trombone conundrum
metronome roams
memory ticks back the days.

16.
Little stalker, true lily, night
bloomer, what will you bring me?
Lily among the thorns, lovely
looking-glass nectary, roaming
the corners, Liliales, O Lilium,
I'll catch, catch, catch you yet.

17.
Late night bloomer. Hunter stalker.
Sinuosity's slick slink sliding. His mirrored length
a memory's pause.                             Zapateado
flick of flamenco, heels' percussion.       Gracias!
Miss Lily a cat?  No way.

18.
Trombone slides towards silence.
Passing chords diminish
forte to piano.
Twitch of a departing tail: one final
brush across the drums.


1. Harvey Molloy  2. Helen Rickerby 3. P.S. Cottier 4. Michelle Elvy 5. Andrew M. Bell 6. Keith Westwater 7. Mary McCallum 8. T. Clear 9. Rethabile Masilo 10. Renee Liang 11. Catherine Bateson 12. Alicia Ponder 13. Claire Beynon 14. Janis Freegard 15. Saradha Koirala 16. Eileen Moeller 17. Helen Mckinlay 18. Tim Jones

Tuesday Poets who sat this one out: Zireaux, Sarah Jane Barnett, Booksellers NZ (Emma M), Helen Lowe, Kathleen Jones, Cathryn Fitchett, Jennifer Compton, Leah McMenamin, Elizabeth Welsh, Robert Sullivan, Belinda Hollyer.

Tuesday Poem is three years old and over the three weeks starting April 2, 18 of our 30 poets, day at a time, from NZ to Australia to the US and France, contributed a single stanza to our communal 'jazz' birthday poem. And the whole extraordinary poem is here now, posted Tuesday April 23 2013.

Why jazz? We wanted something that unfolded like jazz does - an emphasis on repetition and rhythm, and the winding and unwinding of lines and phrases and words. With each poet writing a separate stanza, we needed something to pull the long poem together, and the language and rhythms do just that. It's hard to believe this poem isn't from a single brain.

Delicious things happen in the poem - the sinuous and playful winding and rewinding of the whispering and whiskers of Lily who may or may not be a woman or a cat or a plant... oh memory/metronome who could forget that teasing/tail, the scratch/catches and oh boy, the oboe ... and more, so much more. Such delights! Such fun! Just read the comments to see how much we, and our readers, enjoyed it. We're going to miss the daily excitement.

'Our best collaboration yet', says Janis, and she's right. There were so few technical problems - the stanzas appearing silently, magically, day after day - and each Tuesday Poet who took part, threw in such energy and talent the blog was bursting with it. Still is. Thank you too to the Tuesday Poets who couldn't contribute this time but watched on supportively. We feel privileged to be part of this amazing global poetry community. Finally, thank you to our regular blog visitors and supporters, and to those who simply land here and take the time to read.

More details on how we made the poem here.

Finally, NZ lost a fine poet this week when Sarah Broom passed away after a long illness aged 40. We were privileged to host one of Sarah's poems on the TP hub over summer, 'All my life.' And her work has appeared on other TP poet sites. Helen Lowe's TP post this week remembers Sarah, and so does Michelle Elvy's. We offer our condolences to her family and friends.

Now, do please read the Tuesday Poems popping up in our sidebar throughout Tuesday - where it says 'Tuesday Poem' at a poet link, click and read. Such riches as we head into our fourth year. Mary & Claire.