Tag Archives: Book 7 Ovid’s Metamorphoses

‘Struggle and Treachery’ Action 4/4: Transformations Poems (Book 7)

11 Oct

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 7

 

.Featuring:

Nat Hall, James Knight and Karin Heyer

_

 

Medea’s Dream

by Nat Hall

.
Face without eyes.
chère toison d’or, cire ou de plomb*,
from dragon’s clutch,
protect my
heart.

.
Boy without face.

.
From the chariot drawn by the great fire breathers,
I shall not flee from fleece of love,
crush my own genes, or
drink from
tantalising cups…

.
Eyes without heart.

.
From sympathy to illusion,
don’t turn that girl
into a witch,
I shall not
bleed
or
betray you.

.
Heart without face,
I’ve lost my way across the sea,
where women weave
from handspun
waves,
kelp
and lust tides,
and find solace, here,
in West sky, as twilight awakes
Arcturus, space Argonaut among Perseids.

.
Face without boy.

.
This is where the shadows come to play**,
now let me enjoy meteors.

.
Nat Hall 2013

.
*) dear golden, wax or fleece of lead
**) from Somewhere in Between, Kate Bush, Aerial (2005) that accompanied this piece

.

Myrmidon*

by James Knight

.

Soil-spawned men

Murmuring

In the unreal light

 .

It’s cold

 ..

Imagine looking down

On the crowds agitating

Across Waterloo Bridge

.

An insect has a head,

An abdomen,

A thorax

Six legs

 .

Male ants and queens

Have wings,

Fly incompetently

.

One day a year

They broil in their thousands

On my lawn

 .

Imagine

All those people

Scurrying around London

Imagine

They’ve lost their humanity

To mindless endeavour

 .

Now imagine you’re somehow different

 .

Your life made up of a million minute Tasks

.

Medea

by James Knight

 .

Coiled

in the winter

of her womb,

 .

a nightmare

awaits the warmth

of a bitter spring

.

.

Pointed Horns

by Karin Heyer

 .

Then, many times the moon

had brought together

the points of her horns

To show her splendid, clear, completed form.

A fearful pestilence hit my people

lassitude struck them to the pillaged ground.

Burning skin and panting breath plagued

their polluted bodies and foaming lips.

Screaming, dying children women and men:

Helpless, abandoned to the forces of hell.

What images, what fear.

A cruel fate hit men and land.

No-one knew whence it came.

.. 

And now transform this image:

News-flash, August 2013, Syria,

an inflicted, fearful pestilence

struck its people

shown to the world

no-one knew whence it came.

But they did know and drew a red line

.

.

*= a poem which has been chosen for our Transformations art and poetry exhibition in September 2014 at Hanse House, Norfolk

__________

You can find more about Nat, James and Karin here:

Nat Hall:

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

https://twitter.com/nordicblackbird

James Knight:

http://thebirdking.com/

https://twitter.com/badbadpoet

Karin, as yet, does not have a website

 

 

 

 

 

 

‘Struggle and Treachery’ Action 3/4: Transformations Poems (Book 7)

2 Oct

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 7

.Featuring:

Richard Biddle and Carol Robson

_

Love letter to the Wind

by Richard Biddle

.

Gentle breath that knows no malice, whose body blows could knock out

a city’s lights or flatten a forest; when first your dust-stirring gusto brushed

my rougued cheeks, lust stirred a must-have itch in my loins. 

.

A longing came to move toward your tornado touch, a hankering for a

hurricane hug, a need to be at the heart of a twister’s eye.

 .

What folly it is to tumble through barren deserts, picking up piles of junk,

unpredictable as a drunken brawl, when I am here waiting, unrequited,

hour by hour, and ready to be taken by your turbine-turning power.

I lie awake; jealous of the attention you pay the waves and autumnal leaves,

Won’t you calm your squalling zigzag transit, made visible by smoke

and flags, to a warm, embracing zephyr and lavish upon my heated desire

a cool and tender breeze? 

.

Enchantress *

(Medea)

by Carol Robson

.
To fall in love with her
is so bewitching,
being well connected
a woman who usually
gets her way,
love on her terms
her will to be met
with challenges.

.
Fearing for her new love
to be brought under her charms
spellbinding in her efforts
for the charms
of his affections
his promises.

.
In conspiracy,
to bring about life and death
loves blindness
of being used
for her lover’s needs,
torn to run
on chariots from high.

.
Returning spurned
her wrath fingered
upon the innocent
and the blood kin
between her
and her true love,
anger raging
the enchantress flees
to new horizons
never to be misled
or wronged again.

.
©Carol Robson 2013

_____

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

You can find out more about Richard and Carol here:

_______

Richard Biddle

‘Struggle and Treachery’ Action 2/4: Transformations Poems (Book 7)

24 Sep

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 7

>>Featuring:

Kate Garrett and Eleanor Perry

___

.

Maybe Medea*

by Kate Garrett

.

I stand at the far

edge of the fields,

beyond the patch

of cornstalks, facing

the hedgerow and scents

of honeysuckle blooms,

crushed sassafras leaves.

.

She waits there,

mother of crossroads,

beneath the darkest

sky. She asks if I

would bathe in, or drink

them: fresh milk, sweet

honey, sheep’s blood.

.

She knows my auntie

shows men their true

form, lets them roll

like pigs around her feet,

offers plenty of mud,

and scraps to keep

them happy.

.

She also knows it’s not

enough for me. I need

their lives. They owe

me their salvation

and destruction alike.

But all the same, auntie

taught me well, and my

dark crone understands.

.

I slit the bleating throat

as my lady asked, mix

the claret flow with white

and gold. She sends the chariot,

drawn by dragons. Or

are they men? I’m laughing,

skin splashed with red,

as they drive me away.

 

.

Maybe Aurora (Red Sky at Morning)

by Kate Garrett

.

Look. The sky,  the sunrise,

and all for you. Why don’t

you want it? Bright scarlet,

.

like a passion, a tantrum,

your heart, and the hole

In her chest. Just wait;

.

wait for another dawn, a lot

like this one. Go. Wait. And

don’t say I didn’t warn you.

.

Myrmidon.

by Eleanor Perry

.

myrmidon by Nell Perry Book 7 JPG

 

.

_____

.

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

.

You can find out more about Kate and Nell here: 

.

.

.

‘Struggle and Treachery’ Action 1/4: Transformations Poems (Book 7)

18 Sep

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 7

>>Featuring:

Adam Wimbush and Rebecca Audra Smith

___

.

Jayson and the Astronauts*

by Adam Wimbush

.

The Astronauts blast through the atmosphere.

Fresh from the Thrace system where previously they had been,

Fighting the flying half-female forces of Harpeeys;

A race of soul tormentors who breathed fear and each one was a thought thief.

Fortunately their deformed forms were destroyed

Freeing the starved and tormented colony underneath

Who in return presented Jaysun with a compass with which to unlock the Cosmos.

Once cracked the cryptic coordinates guided him to the planet Colchis,

Where he would claim the “Shimmering Skin” from the savage Thing.

But the negotiations were complicated, revealing even more arduous adventures.

For Jaysuns cache would be empty if he couldn’t inspire and

Overcome the three layer test set out by the Thing.

But oh, how he oozed hero, sending waves of intoxication through Meedeeuh.

Her emotions flare and the alien love grows inside.

It mutates the meanings of the savage Things many mean manifestations,

Which now become meaningless.

Like the planets gravity she’s magnetised.

Caught in a prism of contradiction…she’s got the wrong triangle tingles…attracted to xeno-zones.

Feelings fluctuate in fancy frequencies as her moral compass flickers.

Surrounding powers sneak; they weave through inhuman web works

Were they can’t be understood.

Pumping god fluid into the pupa of paradoxical peril where the hatchlings of danger await.

Observing these dilemmas the snakes of her syntax hiss as she forges a shield of love.

A force field so strong no Layer Boss can penetrate.

.

.

Hazardous emotions reign creating a vortex in her soul

Which re-swirls images of alternative futures.

She commences to conjure.

Illusions solidify as realties dematerialise.

The galactic jigsaw pieces begin to slot together as,

Another goddess helps them piece together the puzzle of perception.

For within the circuits of the cosmos sparks hide, and

Tapping into this hidden electricity Meedeeuh and Jaysun decide to dive.

.

Layer 1:

.

With his force field glowing Jaysun confronts the Oxatons;

They vomit vortexes, they roar louder than black holes sucking in anti-matter.

They tear the fabric of space with their thunderous talons,

Horns of pure malice to the marrow, with which they rip reality.

Jaysun in his cocoon cruises into the beating black heart of the Oxatons hatred,

Were upon they release a shockwave of terror.

The negative energy is absorbed by the barrier of love and reflected back.

So their whirling withers, their energy dissipates and

The Oxatons dissolve into a time lapsed sunset.

.

Layer 2:

.

From the Things Terror Capsule

A handful of fossilised fangs where flung,

Biting deep into the flesh of the planet.

From these teeth seeds terrible things sprung,

Melting upwards into horrible humanoid creatures

Made from malignant bits, fetid flesh and bizarre bones, weaved together.

Their bio-weaponery stank, shooting rancid lasers at violating velocity.

These rotting robots wouldn’t stop till Jaysun was dead.

Their mangled forms advanced and

It seemed our hero would be overcome with their putrid power.

Fearing her love shield wouldn’t suffice

She uses a voice engine

Rendering her words sentient.

The wicked whisper seemed to swim

Corrupt and confuse their regurgitated bodies from within,

The Zombots fuse into a pulsating cancer of bone and meat

This violently erupts,

Spitting sinews and splintered bone, cutting its diseased neighbour down.

.

Layer 3:

.

Now armed with Meedeeuhs shamanistic song shadow

He prepares for the ultimate battle; to tackle the malevolent Monsect

With its bastardised exoskeleton and an array of angry appendages.

Ghostly heads that gorged on grief.

A tongue that seemed to fork forever

Searching for death from a mouth even evil was afraid to lurk in.

Despite its destructive capabilities it wasn’t immune to Meedeeuhs murmuring machine.

So when Jaysun synchronised it while unloading his Spray Gun

the Monsects consciousness evaporated.

In that frozen moment he snatched the Shimmering Skin from its golden holding cell.

Leaving behind this hell

With Meedeeuh as his wife and sporting an extra magic epidermis,

They flew off to the planet Iolcos in love.

.

(and that’s another story)

.

Medea

by Rebecca Audra Smith

i

Brew me a new life
out of green thumbs and songs.
Make me young as I was when I thought
our souls are made of sky colours.
I will plaster myself in marble
I will build my own tower
I will let you slit my neck
and fill me with fresh flowers. 

ii

She promised youth,
she said, give me an ewe,
no, on second thoughts, a ram-
head heavy with horns-
and I will restore spring.

The pot was too small.
She stuffed the whorled body,
legs sticking out at right angles,
it bleat and then it shrunk,
leaving behind the sack of its old shape. 

iii

Drain out the stale blood,
we must fill ourselves with life.
Daughters, stab your fathers,
sharpen the knives. 

When the corpse is quiet
and the moon is high
we will fill it like a chalice,
we can but resurrect or die. 

.

_____

.

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

.

You can find out more about Adam and Rebecca here: 

.

.

.

.

Adam Wimbush

http://wrongtriangle.wordpress.com/

https://twitter.com/Wrong_Triangle

A warm welcome goes out to Adam who has joined the project half-way through.

nb. The group of ‘Transformations’ poets is now formerly closed. 

Rebecca Audra Smith

http://beccaaudra.wordpress.com/

https://twitter.com/BeccaAudra

 

 

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