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So this is it. Day #30 and I have six words left from Read Write Word #15. I have more than thirty poems. I have made some wonderful new blogging buddies whose poems I will continue to read and the prompts have been amazing.japan-2009-293

Keep writing!

This lunacy must end

It was less like hardscrabble
more like a magical mystery tour.
Thirty shiny pennies jingle
in my piggy bank of poems.
The company was wicked.
I’ve travelled on different cadences
and I close these thirty days
with nascent aspiration.

And to update my Naisaiku:

today’s the last day
thirty blossoms are blooming
A RED LETTER DAY
thirty poems are written
let’s have a party!

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(Microsoft media clip)

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Christine at read Write Poem is asking us to get metaphysical and the prompt at One Single Impression is ‘Word’.  Both of these seem to be right up my street. My interests, apart from poetry and literature, include science, philosophy and spirituality. I’ve chosen to concentrate on the macro world but the micro world inside the atom is just as awe inspiring and unknown. Even hard nosed academics like the novelist Martin Amis said recently  that in the face of the fact that 98% of the universe is dark material, which we know nothing about, it is irrational and counter intuitive to dismiss the possibility that there is a God. In a lecture delivered by Amis and James Wood, the Harvard Professor of Literature, the present was referred to not as post-Christian but as post-secular. People are hungry for spirituality and theology is being taken seriously here in the U.K. where religious practice has declined far more than in the U.S. Anyone who has been reading my blog for over a year will know of my hostility to Richard Dawkin’s campaign for atheism which has currently taken the form of an atheist bus. If I were to put a label on myself I am an agnostic Christian or maybe I’m a Christian agnostic.

Metaphysical

Words are a lamp to the dark matter of the soul –
the chi, essence, life force – that no longer inhabits
a cadaver stretched out on a table.

Questions about the soul’s previous existence
and continuation after death rattle like dry bones
in an empty casket – without words.

If the universe were a fist, all that we know about it
would fit on the nail of my little finger. We still do not know
why we exist but we do have to be  in order to be not.

We do not know why the device that drives the universe
is speeding up, flinging stars further into space. We toss
a salad of words like ‘black holes’, ‘chaos’ and ‘entropy’.

In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God…

‘Your word is a lamp to my feet’ (Psalm 119: 105)

‘To be or not to be…’ (Shakespeare: Hamlet)

‘Hands that flung stars into space’ (Graham Kendrick)

‘In the beginning was the Word…’ (John 1:1))

Who was Jesus?

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It’s day 19 of NaPoWriMo. At Read Write Poem we’ve been asked to think about friendship and at One Single Impression the prompt is ‘one word’. My meditation on friendship led me to think about ‘friend’ as the opposite to ‘enemy’ and considering being a friend to someone you don’t even know. Now I’m no flag waving patriot: I’m a pacifist with a strong tendency to cowardice. When the U.S. and Britain decided unilaterally to invade Iraq, I didn’t think this was a just war. A visit to the Labour party website, rather than strengthening the case for war, had convinced me that there were unlikely to be WMDs in Iraq. I wrote a poem, Unidentified , expressing my belief that  terrorism would escalate. However, what about the men and women who lay their lives on the line fighting for their country? I’ve written a rondeau (my second) so to some extent I’ve been constrained by the form.

It seems strange to me.
In a free market economy
where worth is the same as price
which goes up then down like a lottery dice
these people are a dichotomy

Is it better to be
altruistic or greedy
when nothing but more will suffice?
It seems strange

in my epistemology
that being born free
to choose they don’t think twice
even paying the highest price
in dying for humanity
It seems strange.

Greater love has no-one than this
that he lay down his life for his friends
.
(John 15:13)

When I first came across these words as a child, I felt that, if put to the test, I would be found wanting. They are just as much of a challenge today.

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Day 18 of NaPoWriMo with Read Write Poem.  Somehow or other I missed Carolee’s lexical prompt on Thursday. I had fun with this, although it’s only a fragment which I hope to develop later. The word I chose was ‘fugitive’ and I think the following  quote from Shakespeare may have been in my mind as I framed my first line:

Shylock: … you call me misbeliever, cut-throat dog,
And spit upon my Jewish gaberdine,

(Shakespeare: ‘A Merchant of Venice’)

Fugitive

The locals call him drifter, hobo, bum,
apostate, absconder, escapee,
renegade, rebel, runaway,
I favour émigré, exile, political refugee.
Interrupted, disjoined, divorced, unplugged,
cleft from a branch of an ancient tribe;
ephemeral, short-lived, a shifting silhouette;
a canvas for fantasy.

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Thursday is Space Travel Day
(or what I did instead of writing an instead of poem)

I thought that the bees
disappearing was a fiction
in the last series of Dr Who
but apparently it’s true

The bees are disappearing
and I’m on a mission to find them.

I’ve taken a short cut
through a  wormhole,
avoided  a black hole,
and suffered acute anxiety
adjacent to a singularity*.

I’m drifting towards
a green nebulosity
an optical illusion
makes it look like
briny sea.

There are no hotels
or swimming pools in space
but I’ll be jubilant
when I return to earth
with a hive of honey bees.

*.astrophysics hypothetical point in space: a hypothetical region in space in which gravitational forces cause matter to be infinitely compressed and space and time to become infinitely distorted

The words from Read Word prompt #!4 are in italics. i’ve used all the words I didn’t use on Monday plus ‘briny’ which i misread as ‘bring’. There are links to more poems here.

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The Changeling

When she was very young
she often thought that
the fairies had swapped her
for a mortal child. Not that
she would ever impugn
her parents – respectable,
solid, dull – but
much loved.

At night, she would lie in her room,
bring light  beams to play
upon the ceiling, watch
through narrowed eyes,
the rose-patterned wallpaper
mutate into the faces
of hobgoblins, then
she would ascend
until she was  flying
in the ethereal realm
above the sky.

I’ve used Read Write Poems read write word #14. The words I’ve used are: changeling, impugn, room and bring.

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Well, this is my response to the 50 word challenge. I was too idle to ask a friend, face to face or virtual, so my words were pretty much what I could scavenge from unused wordles and word prompts (random or otherwise). Jill over at RWP has invited us to be introspective.

Ruminations on Life

Life so far has been more like
a slalom than a sleigh ride.
What I need is a cerebral foghorn
to help me navigate the buoys,
a hiatus in which to lasso
the bucking broncos, then
I’ll be batting against all comers
until I collapse in a heap.

The bombardment
of inchoate ideas
will no longer crush me.
I will run like a fugitive
whilst paparazzi scour
the city streets
…if only in my dreams.

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