January 2018 IBPC submissions

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Congrats to Gracy, JJ, & Don 




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by Gracy 




Bewildered
you drifted into a Nomen nescio
sphere of the mind.
Undefined space packed 
with psychedelic images, 
tragicomic paradoxes.

Regression to an earlier time
of diapers, bibs, drool, 
night terrors.
Doctors say you’re chancy, 
might set the house afire, 
slash me with the kitchen knife.
Really? 


When I whispered -Till tomorrow, honey, 
tears welled in my eyes: 
your mortifying -G’night, Mother 
stabbed my heart.
Wayward, outsize babe, 
snatched from my arms…

There’s a void in our home, 
-What now?
Twenty married years, 
so ephemeral, 
a fleeting presence by my side.
Must I reinvent myself?

Our cat dusts 
book-lined corridors
with her Siamese fur, 
ponders ‘Don Quixote’ yearningly, 
then whiskers your pillows, 
sleeps under them.

She and I need our zany, 
quixotic cavalier, 
even if you've been…
‘Certified’.


Note: Nomen nescio: No name, Lt. 




~~~~~ 






The tiny mouse that lived inside
my dry stone wall is petrified.
Her body couldn't bear the chill
and there she lies forever still,
inside my dry stone wall.

The pygmy shrew that found a heap
of brittle leaves fell sound asleep.
The snuffling mite consumed his last
then snuggled down to face his fast
inside the heap of leaves.

The jenny wren that settled in
the ivy quilt is plume and skin.
Her shivering frame has acquiesced
because she hadn't built a nest
inside the ivy quilt.

The feral cat that prowls around
my broken fence slips on the ground.
The frozen earth defies his claw
and winter's freeze has robbed his store
around my broken fence.

Now I sit in my cosy house
to think about the tiny mouse,
the shrew, the wren and feral cat
then place some balls of grain and fat
outside my cosy house. 




~~~~~ 






i. 

It's a strange twilight,
hanging over the middle of the day,
stealing the power of my eyes
to make things real.
The inverted shadows
hollow what is solid.
The skeletons of things
break at the spine.
You are gone.
You took yourself
away. If you return
it will be with thorns.

ii. 

I'm sitting on the bench
outside the library
waiting for a cab
and breathing shallow.
She died. She died.
I still see her 
asking for more
creamer in her coffee,
never satisfied.
Then God told me to relax
God told me to relax!
I didn't need to
say goodbye. She
wouldn't listen anyway.
But God told me:
relax. 




~~~~~ 




End 




~~~~~

Comments

  • edited January 6 Posts: 0

    Thank you very much!

    If it's not too late, could the revised version make the journey to IBPC? I've made a few changes based on rhyme and word pronunciation and removed an unnecessary repetition. If not, I understand. Please see below for revised version.

    Best

    JJ

    The tiny mouse that lived inside
    my dry stone wall is petrified.
    Her body couldn't bear the frost
    and there she lies, preserved and lost,
    inside my dry stone wall.

    The pygmy shrew that found a heap
    of brittle leaves falls sound asleep.
    The snuffling mite consumed his last
    then snuggled down to face his fast
    inside the heap of leaves.

    The jenny wren that settled in
    the ivy quilt is plume and skin.
    Her shivering frame has acquiesced
    because she hadn't built a nest
    inside the ivy quilt.

    The feral cat that prowls around
    my broken fence slips on the ground.
    The frozen earth defies his claw
    and winter's knives have sliced his paw
    around my broken fence.

    Now I sit in my cozy house
    to think about the tiny mouse,
    the shrew, the wren and feral cat
    then place some balls of grain and fat
    outside my cozy house.

  • Posts: 590
    Hi JJ,

    I sent it along to David, including your request just as you wrote it here
  • Thanks, Rus. Much appreciated.

    JJ



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