Monday, October 18, 2021

Positions

 
 
 

 
 
Positions
 
 

You sleep flat in
the fire of all that was
and never burn;
ice doesn't.

I sleep on
the ashes; a body in
a prehistoric grave,
with stones, ivory rings

and broken pots,
curled tight to shield
all the soft things
that rot away.
 
 

October 2021






 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 posted for Quadrille Night
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Images: Bronze Age Pot from prehistoric burial, Southern Urals © Finn Shrieber  from article 
Neolithic skeleton of a woman, from 4500 year old burial in Germany, by Archaeros, from article
 Fair Use
 

23 comments:

  1. ahhh - love this - so elegant and simple and yet so powerful - and love that line - ice doesn't -- it's so unexpected in placement but such a sharply delicious contrast, it's perfect. Stones, ivory rings, broken pots, all to protect - love the circular images, - superb wording in 44!

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  2. The contrast says it all, and once again I am impressed by how you couch your meaning in a totally unique setting.

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  3. I like this take on the prompt. Nicely done quadrille.

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  4. I love the contrast of sleeping positions specially the curling tight. You give meaning to the ashes of death, perhaps a clue to the dead person life or character.

    Great to see you joining in the fun!

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  5. Love the burial site quadrille. Enjoyed.

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  6. It's what life with a sociopath is like. So well done.

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  7. I wish I'd written this one! Such great imagery. The aftermath of pain and conflagration. It's so beautiful and so powerful.

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  8. Wow, HW - the sleeping on the ashes is really an intense image. Well done!

    Yours,
    David [ben Alexander]

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  9. Such vulnerability - those last three lines offer a powerful image.

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  10. These ancient burials really fascinate me: a poetic reminder of our mortality!

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  11. I love this--the contrast is so startling--and I am also fascinated by these ancient burial sites.

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  12. this is an intriguing poem joy, i like the contrast and relationships between "you" "i" and "broken pots". there is lost in this poem, also memory, hot and cold. very well written joy

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  13. I like especially the way the words echo the shape of the pot.

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  14. I love how you talk to the dead and how you tie back those ancient burial back in that fetal position... to talk directly to those who came before us is a fascinating topic of a poem.

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  15. Oh man Joy I have no pots to put my personal shit in! Damned for not having a plan to take it all with me!

    What I appreciate in this and so much more of your writing is the flow, the cadence that just makes this sing!

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    Replies
    1. Thank you, Mark. I don't do the 55 any more, sadly, but the 44 word quadrille is pretty close.

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  16. This is incredibly strong and poignant writing. I resonate with; "broken pots,
    curled tight to shield all the soft things that rot away."

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  17. Generation in death means the living join the dead in a pose both supplications and union. Flesh becomes essence in the procedure. This 44 jars the brutal holiness of it dim in the corner where everything went.

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    1. Thanks, B. Brevity says things sometimes a thousand words disguise or muddle. Your thoughts are always appreciated.

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  18. Your ability to sketch yet fill is unsurpassed. The final couplet pivot is ... a dozen adjectives came to mind, none are enough. Superb. Encompassing. Clear-eyed.

    2 years. Wow. Oct 20 has its own red circle to me, as Caleigh's due date. The veil thins this time of year.

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    1. Thank you, M, for this and all these comments. I really appreciate you're reading beyond the top post--few ever do. AFA the anniversary and the veil thinning--yes, it's a turbulent time, even as we make peace, because the heart has its own logic about these things,and for me, anyway, doesn't share it much except here on the page.

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    2. it's one of the perils of prompt hopping. the verse version of social media, with less room or time to visit. it's why i don't often comment to prompt responses until a week or two past, and more often than not visit more than one post - my little shake of the fist at the tyranny of the moment. how to be present without being beholden to it; i dunno. and no and yes, the heart's logic stumps my fizzled and fuzzled brain.

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"We make out of the quarrel with others, rhetoric, out of the quarrel with ourselves, poetry." ~William Butler Yeats