Craft Dreams

This month’s Collaborative Poem used a photo as the prompt, and stylistic attempt was to avoid adjectives. Many thanks to @permabloom, @stair71, @sleepingdingo, @troublegummer & @brudberg. Such an honour to work with you every month. Thank you.

The voice of collaborative poetry

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It was either ascend by metaphors or go under a plain life
Sink, immerse, suffocate and drown in gyring commonalities.
Or so she presumed back then, persuaded as she floated,
Drifted and slided on tropes, and her own buoying youth.

On a neap tide she rose and with the spring thaw
The flood waters gushed and rivulets carved
Inscriptions on mountainsides. There she found herself,
A participle on an outcrop phrase, dangling.

Slowly, shapes around her coalesced and solidified
Small children sprouted at her feet, squalling and thickening.
Or were they phantoms? Drowsing, chin dipping, she’s not sure,
Sobs and wails mingling with sounds of swooping seagulls screeching.

Rocking in a way that felt internalised, she thought awhile
Translucence was her view; light and shapes that she tried to understand.
Passively she existed, but experienced a vividness she could not explain
Things seemed to happen to her without choice. Was…

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Hidden Truths

Our Collaborative Poem for February 2015. Love working with Bjorn, Keren, Philip & Alastair. Unfortunately, Elisa & Carl are busy with family for the time being.

The voice of collaborative poetry

Copyright Björn Rudberg Copyright Björn Rudberg

Hidden truths
exposed as lying smoke;
sombre syllables of sullen clouds.
Once captured as an asset in their balance sheets
and silent wings of a smothered gull
Now its frozen tears are
Broken shells,
Tokens from a midden
Once hidden, rising from the cutting,
Reminders of people we killed and dispossessed
To grab our wealth, however flimsy.
These ancestors abide.
Always there
the omnipresent might
of shiny purgatory pipes we dread
in oily arguments and given compensations
of discounted gasoline and games
forgetting melodies –
where did the world go wrong?
The collective skills of humankind –
Genius, curiosity, guile and conscience
distilled within these metal sluices,
syphoned to the pockets
of the few
The disconnect divides
Faith and faithless, believers, liars
High rise friars and broadcasts of promised immaculates
Clasp our hands, intertwined in wiring
Mouths open, eyes are closed
Salvation –
disguised by persuasions

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