Tag Archives: Book 3 Ovid’s Metamorphoses

‘Warmth and Wickedness’ Act 5/5 : Transformations Poems (Book 3)

6 Jun

TRANSFORMATIONS

George Braque Metamorphoses

February 2013-March 2014

17 poets, 15 months, creating 1 contemporary reworking of Ovid’s Metamorphoses

See the Transformations Page for more details or the ‘Present Collaborations’ Tab

__________________

The Final 3 Poems Inspired by Book 3

>>

Featuring:

James Knight, Lenka Monk, Karin Heyer 

>>>>

Tiresias

by James Knight

>>

I’m tired.

Don’t talk to me.

>

The headaches are worse.

Real blinders.

They’re particularly bad

when I’m trying to get dressed

in the morning.

I can’t think.

Can’t tell if I’m holding

a shirt or a skirt.

>

I can’t explain it.

I’m living a half life,

between one thing and another.

Nothing feels right.

>

I haven’t had an erection in months.

>

Whenever the room darkens further

I see

a mirror cracking,

a face trapped

in its deadly geometry.

>

Don’t talk to me.

>>>>

Echo in the forest

by Lenka Monk

>>

Elevated heartbeat,

Pulsating blood rushing,

Crushing heat waves

Touching only with a seductive gaze.

>

The mirage on the lake…

>

Bleeding out desire

Excruciating sacred yearning,

Razor blades on lips

Unrequited adoration.

>

The time stands still…

>

Perspiration of lustful words

Lacing the tongue like poison.

Seeping into veins

Turning into endless hunger.

>

Unanswered echoes…

>

Deceived by heart’s screams,

Tourniquet ripped out.

Pain pours, shredded soul

Strewn across the forest’s floor.

>>>>

Unrequited Love

by Karin Heyer

>

She recalls a thousand sweet sounds

long oft spoken before by lovelorn lovers.

Wordplay delights, not seen, but heard,

living still in mountain’s echo magic.

>

He gazed into the pond, a proud beauty,

an ivory light transcends his body,

white as marble his loveliness struck,

like golden wax consumed by haunted love.

>

Ill-starred love raced on lifelong resounding.

Her tune in magic mountains contained,

no love could yet heal the hurt,

for love alone is not enough…

And there, beside the lovelorn lover’s grave

a white and yellow flower lay,

despite the fatal gaze!

 

>>>>

You can find more about James and Lenka below. Karin, at present does not have a website.

James Knight :

http://thebirdking.com/

https://twitter.com/badbadpoet

Lenka Monk:

https://twitter.com/lenkster04

>>>

 

.>>>>>>>>

‘Warmth and Wickedness’ Act 4/5 : Transformations Poems (Book 3)

28 May

TRANSFORMATIONS

George Braque Metamorphoses

February 2013-March 2014

17 poets, 15 months, creating 1 contemporary reworking of Ovid’s Metamorphoses

See the Transformations Page for more details or the ‘Present Collaborations’ Tab

__________________

Poems Inspired by Book 3

>>

Featuring:

Greg Mackie, Nell Perry, Sadaf Fatima 

>>>>>

THE MANIC MISOGYNIST

by Greg Mackie

I’d never been
(particularly)
lucky with women,
so I often went hunting
with the guys,
just to get out of the house –
and I know it’s a cruel sport;
decadent
and cowardly,
but I didn’t have the courage,
to spend the day arguing.

Of course, I’d never been
(particularly)
good at hunting,
either,
but we’d done well for a Monday,
and now our bags were full
and the dogs were hungry
and we were tired
and we were looking
for a nice spot
to eat our sandwiches
and drink our tea
and maybe grab forty winks –
when we came across
a clearing,
in the woods,
with a waterfall
and a crystal blue Italian stream.

>

It was indeed,
 a place of wild wonder
 and of stunningly savage beauty,
 the perfect place for a picnic –
 and I could not POSSIBLY have known
 there would be,
 just there,
 in front of my very eyes,
 an all-female nudist colony –
 and I certainly did not,
 gawk at them,
although they were quite pretty,
 albeit in a rather boring
 and overly classical manner.

After five, ten minutes,
(I kind of lost count of time),
and just as I was about to
avert my eyes
from their perfect, pink skin
and their full, fine forms –
that tall lady in the middle,
the one with the hair knot,
finally saw me –
and totally got the wrong idea.
>
Now, I’d NEVER been
(particularly)
lucky with women –
but getting first drenched,
and then turned into a stag,
and finally eaten,
by my own dogs,
because some toff,
with her airs and graces and hair knots,
mistook me,
for a peeping Tom –
that really
took the biscuit.
>
And you know what’s really ironic?
she wasn’t even my type!

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

laelaps
* * *

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

blood and wood in
buckthorn clew
a rill, a frith to catch
licks clear a nape
dew claws
jewel brittle
the water leap

Nell Perry 

>>>>>>>>>>

Self Love

by Sadaf Fatima

Madly in love with ourselves,
That’s what we are,
Chained by our own desires,
Lost in our own fears,
Chasing our dreams,
But not paying heed,
to anyone else.
What an illusion it is,
To think it’s just us
who mean everything,
self love destroys
if it’s too much
let’s learn from Narcissus,
it’s not just about us,
it’s more than that.

 

‘Warmth and Wickedness’ Act 3/5 : Transformations Poems (Book 3)

21 May

TRANSFORMATIONS

George Braque Metamorphoses

February 2013-March 2014

17 poets, 15 months, creating 1 contemporary reworking of Ovid’s Metamorphoses

See the Transformations Page for more details or the ‘Present Collaborations’ Tab

__________________

Poems Inspired by Book 3

>>

Featuring:

Carol Robson and Kate Garrett

>

Untethered Man *

(Cadmus)

by Carol Robson

 >>>

Takes his orders from upon high

his kidnapped sibling must be found

traversed the world in fruitless search.

Fearing the wrath from father on high

he now seeks the wisdom of others.

.

In fear he flees to distant lands

to seek a new life untethered

he’ll kill and take to meet his needs

new lands to conquer for him to rule

the prophecy told him, now unfurling.

.

Slays the serpent who took his men

the serpents teeth in fertile soil he sews.

New men with purpose from earth are born

a slaughter endured until five are left

to share new life with the untethered man.

.

©Carol Robson 2013

.

Sacrifice

 (After Ovid’s Semele and the Birth of Bacchus)

by Kate Garrett

.

My curiosity destroyed me.

I felt little as my lover’s

lightning consumed

.

 my mortal body, one

thought only: what will become

 of the boy? Plucked

.

from my ashen womb, still pink

and growing, then nestled

in a wound in his father’s

.

thigh. Sewn into skin, so close

to the source of the burning seed

 that made him. Bacchus, my

.

baby god of wine and revelry,

 twice born, like a man

 who partakes of the grape

 .

to excess, finds clarity in a fuzzy

head, and wakes unwell: as the day

progresses, he is whole again.

.

* =One of the poems to be included in our ‘Transformations’ Exhibition/Poetry reading September 2014, Hanse House, King’s Lynn, Norfolk

You can find more about Carol and Kate and their work here:

Carol Robson:

http://chakracaz.wordpress.com/

https://twitter.com/Chakracaz

Kate Garrett

https://kategarrett.jux.com/

https://twitter.com/andlavendercats

.

‘Warmth and Wickedness’ Act 2/5 : Transformations Poems (Book 3)

13 May

TRANSFORMATIONS

George Braque Metamorphoses

February 2013-March 2014

17 poets, 15 months, creating 1 contemporary reworking of Ovid’s Metamorphoses

See the Transformations Page for more details or the ‘Present Collaborations’ Tab

__________________

Poems Inspired by Book 3

>>

Featuring:

Richard Biddle and Rebecca Audra Smith

>>

it raises

by Richard Biddle

between some legs, flanked by flesh, unless thought

alive or wormed out, a shrinking violet wilts to rubbery

nothingness

the aim of this swinging slit is a dwindling

purplish-blue, tender tissue; space-wet with gaping

elasticity, rigid as plastic and as annoying

as an inanimate bulge

this flaccid embarrassment’s pinky-blush plays for

pleasure-stiff bliss. with taut awkwardness it

thrusts itself upon itself, damply limp and pale

like blanched offal

it gets in the way

occasionally ending up in another’s bedraggled business

it is a used-up glue tube, sticky with sliminess

banked by breath, unseen voice begs, aghast gasps

writhe in burned shouts, a blinking pilot melts to sudden

sightlessness

the pain of this stinging blitz is a blinding

selfish-doom, power misused; hate-fed with misshaping

authenticity, turgid as bombastic plans and as cloying

as an overrated dirge

this rancid displacement’s shrinking crush makes for a

future-visited kiss. with pure mindfulness it

searches fold upon fold, inwardly lit and named

like clichéd dapple

it rests in the glade

sensationally winding up in a lover’s haggled fussiness

it is a turned-up blue tune, sickly with pettiness

>>>>>

Phaeton’s Twin Sister Parts II and III. 

by Rebecca Audra Smith

How to unpick the strands, in love
with Diana’s narrow hands
capable of blinding, of killing,
of pushing a man’s body into that
of a stag. How his feet felt their way
into hoofs, how his arms tore free
of his skin, how she bellowed
to see his stricken antlered face.

 

Watching from the shadows, followed,
sneaking, a footstep behind the virgin.
Grey and cloudy ground beneath her feet.
as the servants dressed, robes sleek,
she took a chance and under the moon’s
crescent weight her head bobbed. 

*

Fleeing the screams, the pleas and sobs
Taking to night air thick with moths
their powdery wings brushing her hair
Her fingers familiar with each mare’s pull
Her nose their scent, their names a bell
In her head, as if she was born for this
To leap and laugh in the cold dark, alone
for the miles between sunset and morn.

She saw the gods, like night time birds
Flit to the beds of mortal girls and men
Chasing their shadows, lusting for their
Own face in the churning heaven of a lake
She dropped a stone to watch him flounder
and herself ripple then swell to silver

>>>

 

You can find more about Richard and Rebecca and their work here:

Richard Biddle:

http://writings43.blogspot.co.uk/

https://twitter.com/littledeaths68

Rebecca Audra Smith:

http://beccaaudra.wordpress.com/

https://twitter.com/BeccaAudra

>>>

‘Warmth and Wickedness’ Act 1/5 : Transformations Poems (Book 3)

7 May

TRANSFORMATIONS

George Braque Metamorphoses

February 2013-March 2014

17 poets, 15 months, creating 1 contemporary reworking of Ovid’s Metamorphoses

See the Transformations Page for more details or the ‘Present Collaborations’ Tab

__________________

Poems Inspired by Book 3

>>

Featuring:

Nat Hall and John Austin Brooks

>>>

Ignition*

by Nat Hall

.

Give Narcissus a campervan.

.

Let his eyes meet the rear visor, stories untold

about real self – swallow endless miles of

tarmac when, after dusk,

no disco but ballroom

dancers,

immaculate as

the White Wife – the one who

hitches for stories

in this theatre

without

walls –

glide among stars.

.

Stories taller than Jupiter’s.

.

In the name of the shape shifter,

now experience

the intimate:

jump inside the battered Volvo,

re-tell your tale for

survival,

joyride, pleasure

to the tenant who outgrows death

from post-epic-apo-cataliptic car…

Feel hitchers’ hearts

inside your shirt.

They will

guide

you

like oracles –

ukulele,

quest for milk jug,

gnome, skimming stones,

open your door,

or face punishment on roadside.

Now

you’ve journeyed

through the unknown,

unleash your dogs and kill the snake.

And when that white hooded figure unveils herself

from her long cloak,

don’t be afraid to

brandish her your best China.

.

And remember the campervan.

.

© Nat Hall 2013

.

.

Are we not all in search of someone or something? 

by John Austin Brooks

.

Are we not all in search of someone or something?

A loved one pushed or torn away

Absence, a black hole to the group

Tugging at emotions, guilt

Hurt, a vacuum remains

The enthusiasm of the search decays

As the counting of nights and dawns yield little meaning

Alien abodes take on an uncomfortable familiarity

Re-disbursing energies to other goals, other relationships

And one is left undiscovered

Identify, the skin of a reptile

Dust, a fleeting memory

The possible, flattened to the impossible

Unimportant, forgotten

Lives are to be lived, they are what they will be

Though not always free
.

* =One of the poems to be included in our ‘Transformations’ Exhibition/Poetry reading September 2014, Hanse House, King’s Lynn, Norfolk

.

You can find more about Nat and John and their work here:

Nat Hall:

http://nordicblackbird.weebly.com/index.html

https://twitter.com/nordicblackbird

John Austin Brooks:

http://poetrynovice.blogspot.co.uk/

https://twitter.com/Poetrynovice

.

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