Tag Archives: Ovid’s METAMORPHOSES

‘Ends and Beginnings’ Circle 3/4: Transformations Poems (Book 15)

14 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 15

.Featuring:

James Knight and Eleanor Perry

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 The Assassination and Transfigeration of Julius Caesar

-a mannequin ballet

by James Knight

Book 15 James

…………………………………………………………….

an unwrap in flux

by Eleanor Perry

An Unwrap in Flux by Nell Perry Book 15

 

 

 

 

You can find more about James here:

http://thebirdking.com/

https://twitter.com/badbadpoet

 

You can find more about Nell here:

 https://twitter.com/nellperry

http://themusicofbreakages.wordpress.com/

 

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BE THERE AT THE START AND HELP US MAKE THE VIRTUAL REAL

14 Poets, 15 artists, 1 contemporary reworking of Ovid’s Metamorphoses

Consider pledging:

Transformations Kickstarter Campaign:

http://kck.st/1i2e721

Campaign Video:

http://goo.gl/khucJx

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‘Ends and Beginnings’ Circle 2/4: Transformations Poems (Book 15)

6 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 15

.Featuring:

Rebecca Audra Smith and Nat Hall

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Vivam

by Rebecca Audra Smith

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I cut off my hair
cast it into the waters
I turn all I see into stone

applause achelordes aegina aeolia virgo

pages turn
words sink
coral hardens

bind byblis

I cut off my hair
cast it into the waters
pages turn

chalciope chariclo cornix creak

birds are calling
they have men
hidden deep in their chests

deoia dercetis dymantis dour

I cut off my hair
cast it into the waters
the poet shall live

egeria erigone eriays eerie

birds sing
they are of the flesh
of the books of Ovid

hebe hecate hecuba helle hyale hail

I turn all I see into stone
I cut off my hair
cast it into the waters

illithyia ire

Aurora has been weeping
for her children again
sky bitter lemon stained

latois latona laugh

planets turn
I cut off my hair
cast it into the waters

menthe mestra muse

heron claps
it’s wings
over ruins

nyeteis nyctimene nestle

I cut off my hair
cast it into the waters
the poet shall live

ocyrhoe ophias open

they can tell you
the story of every rock
they can tell sorrows
fit to freeze

pasiphae perimele philomela pyrrha poignant

I cut off my hair
cast it into the waters
I turn all I see into stone

rhanis rustle

have you seen the bees
born of bull’s carcass?
have you seen the frogs
born of mud?

scylla semele semiramis smilax speak

pages turn
I cut off my hair
cast it into the waters

telethusa tellus tale

we take
to the skies
to crow stories

venilia vesta veer

I cut off my hair
cast it into the waters
pages turn
the poet shall live

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Pebbles don’t lie

by Nat Hall

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They may wander from coast to coast,
turn chameleon or
magpie,
deep
inside
ink from
poets’ hands,
blood from
mortals,
turn black to white;

deeper inside
the great galactic placenta,
home of stardust, rocks & comets,
where gods can feed
freely from
dreams,
minds
from
scholars,
heavers of
wisdom, theorems,
and hear their own stories alive,
as they emerge from a
parallel universe.

Now feel
perpetual state of flux –

fire,
water, air
around earth,
polished stones,
shammy-leathered
verse,
prophetic as city builders,
metamorphic in cosmic wombs.

And if you think I’m a liar,
come walk with me
on edge of
tide;
you too
will collect your pebbles
somewhere along
the wheel of
life.

Pythagoras was a
genius.

© Nat Hall 2014

 

You can find more about Rebecca here:

http://beccaaudra.wordpress.com/

https://twitter.com/BeccaAudra

 

You can find more about Nat here:

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

https://twitter.com/nordicblackbird

 

 

Tomorrow we’ll be sharing Ben Cooper’s last FreeSpace with ArtiPeeps. Thank you, as always, for your interest.

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BE THERE AT THE START AND HELP US MAKE THE VIRTUAL REAL

14 Poets, 15 artists, 1 contemporary reworking of Ovid’s Metamorphoses

Do take a look.

Transformations Kickstarter Campaign:

http://kck.st/1i2e721

Campaign Video:

http://goo.gl/khucJx

new-badge5
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‘Monsters and Rites’ Scratch 2/4: Transformations Poems (Book 14)

10 Apr

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 14

.Featuring:

Richard Biddle and Eleanor Perry

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A Spell

by Richard Biddle

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A Spell

 Please click for bigger image.

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Seventh

by Eleanor Perry

Seventh by Nell Perry Book 14

 

You can find more about Richard and Eleanor here:

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Richard Biddle

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Eleanor Perry

http://www.zonepoetrymagazine.com/

https://twitter.com/nellperry

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Tomorrow our  Weekend Showcase will feature poet Stephanie Brennan. Thank you, as ever, for your interest.
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‘Monsters and Rites’ Scratch 1/4: Transformations Poems (Book 14)

3 Apr

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 14

.Featuring:

Adam Wimbush and Rebecca Audra Smith

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Sniffing the Art Frost

by Adam Wimbush

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In an orbital temple given to a goddess
She raised them, inspired them.
And in thine honour metamorphed them, but
She had learnt to hate cycles.

Ploughing their last great-hearted incantations,
Scylla and mutual friends greeted my mind,
To ask of those eyes framed with wrinkles,
Those deep wells filled with spells and herbs.

Said I “Crave no cure for beast splicing.
To delirium. That is where I circle pray.
I come to vent her rage.”
Years dropped like feather bombs.

Nor perhaps my wounds; Skin Trophys,
From burgaling the Gods.
I found new unexpectedness.
I was loved and pleased, and,
Like incense burning we slipped into old age.
Our magic like a mist obscuring the soul.

….

With many a frenzy, horror filled me bristles.
Call Moly; a white bloom with a tough wide snout,
Fell over my heads as I watched
Belching chieftains from the main hills.
Anti-fates was back. Rising cautiously.
As the waves feared the bright sun.
It told of how scents ruled the air.

Keep well away from her erogenous zones,
For who really knows the earth?
As we pad ungratefully upon her crust.

But my thoughts wagged like excited puppy tails.
There were tons of changes, but,
I lacked the great bloody gobbets and thought flecks,
For I was born among the flux.
I felt the weight of the universe,
As I slithered in me roots.

I say all this mixed up from wine.
She is woven with plant cells,
from wood nymphs, shores and more.

No? They were our epic ripples too.

……

The worst was westward way.
Muses for the nymphs fair course.
Then gathering a glittering camp,
She rushed her smouldering charge of electricity,
She intertwined twice and twice she tamed the wild prey.

Leaping nimbly from ancient text,
We found her snaking within the long rivers of his veins,
My foam flecked woman.
And only the mad could tell the tale,
Of fostering Venus, who when a horse,
Favoured my passion shapes.

Black out. Lights burnt out.
Then eastward where lofty beasts are slow meat,
They are claimed by ghostly swarms instead.
Picks turn over the soil of fear.
As I recalled I was nowhere, nothing happened.

Now accept us.

…..

Many deserve her anger.
She replaced her wings and mimicked oceans.

Together tossed in the sound storm,
I drove the lusty ship to the end.
The last kiss from her smiling scythe like lips.

Remember we are both ends of the light beam.
We wear the perfume of science.
Farm the pastures of conflicts.

In short we are all lost in the webbed heaven of ideas,
And all the ancient apples and bitter berries of Eden
Cannot disguise this disguise.

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Glaucus and Scylla

by Rebecca Audra Smith

‘Sooner than my love will change, leaves will grow on the waters,

and sea-weed will grow on the hills.’

Sooner than my love will change
pigs will fly,
men turn to pigs,
fish marry birds.
You will speak in the tongue
of transformed animals.
You will bay and hoot
and snort.

My love will not grapple
as Peleus and Thetis did.
Her shape rolling and tearing
and mutating.
My love will be rock steady,
as steady as Scylla,
monsters deep in the water,
stone gripping her veins.

 

You can find more about Adam and Rebecca here:

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Adam Wimbush

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Rebecca Audra Smith

http://beccaaudra.wordpress.com/

https://twitter.com/BeccaAudra

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Tomorrow our  Weekend Showcase, will feature Wood Sculptor Mark Crawley. Thank you, as ever,  for your interest.
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Metamorphoses Book 15 Last Overview and Prompts: Transformations Collaborative Poetry Project

27 Mar
George Braque Metamorphoses

George Braque Metamorphoses

TRANSFORMATIONS

Started in February 2013, 17 poets, 15 months,  creating 1 contemporary reworking of Ovid‘s Metamorphoses

See the Transformations Page For More Details

Here we are at the end of March with our deadline for Book 14  poetry being today Thursday 27th March

This post sets out to provide an overview of the last book of Metamorphoses Book 15 with a deadline for the poems inspired by this  book being Wednesday 30th April.  This is the last overview I’ll be writing for this particular collaboration. I’ve learned a lot from doing them.

The latest batch of Book 13 poems went out yesterday and featured KARIN HEYER and ELEANOR PERRY  (here).  Book 14 and 15 poems will be posted out across April and May.

If you missed out on some of the other  Book 13 poems you can find them  here, here, here . I’ve also created a ‘Transformations Poems Tab’ on the site menu for ease of access if you want to see more.

Thank you to all those who have taken an interest in these overviews, and to all those in the Transformations project who have stuck with it through until the end. It means a lot. Here’s to the next one!

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Overview of Book 15: 

In this book we are transported into the present time of Ovid’s world. It is a space where mortals are turned into Gods, and imperial order is established and where battle is transformed into peace.  Ovid initially, rather than moving forward chronologically leaps forward in time to focus on Romulus’ successor Numa (where he is told the tale of Myscelus and Hercules). In  book 15 notions of morality are questioned (Mysecelus); the character of Pythagoras is foregrounded so the origins and causes of life can be explored retrospectively; and Ovid uses the character of Hippolytus to re-introduce notions of heroism. The book is finished with an Epilogue which serves to delve into the relationship between poet, poem and longevity.

 Summary of the Tales in Book 15

Pythagoras

Pythagoras

 Meanwhile the question is who will sustain
The burden of so great a charge, who can
Succeed so great a monarch. For the throne
Fame, truths prophetic herald nominates
Illustrious Numa
 
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The Myths and Key Characters: Myscelus, Pythagoras, Egeria and Hippolytus, Cipus, Aesculapius, The Apotheosis of Julius Ceasar, Epilogue

.Hercules

..

Myscelus

 In a dream Myscelus (a descendent of Hercules) sees a vision of Hercules (the son of Zeus). He tells him to leave the city (which was at the time an act with a penalty of death attached to it). As he prepares to leave he is captured and tried for his crime. However, a serendipitous transformation occurs  as the voting pebbles used in the court change from black (guilt) to white (innocence) occurs, and he is allowed to leave. He departs to build a new city.

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Pythagoras 2

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..

Pythagoras

We move on to see Pythagoras (greek philosopher and mathematician) describe at length to Numa (second king of Rome) , how the universe came into being. He covers such themes as divinity and  the origin and causes of life.

Over the previous two books in Metamorphoses we have seen Hercules, Aeneas and Romulus deified; transformed from mortals to gods.  Pythagoras’ speech almost acts as a long recapitulation of everything that we have read previously. The speech ranges from touching on: vegetarianism (Cyclops in book 13 and Lycaon in book 1 in the Iron Age); the idea of sacrifice (to fulfil the desires of the gods); and notions of the human soul (which can just as easily be held in a non-human form).

Pythagoras goes on to address the theme of death and old age (which we are not to dread). Neither are we to fear the Underworld as our souls are immortal. He indicates that all is in flux including time:

All is in flux. Any shape that is formed is constantly shifting (Lively:146)

We then move on to the concept of cosmology. In book one we saw chaos and disorder, and here at the end we are once again thrown into a similar cosmic chaos where the elements are thrown into asunder.  There is a perpetual state of flux between earth, air, fire and water. Pythagoras posits that the cosmos is in eternal competition with its elements. Once again this description could be describing Metamorphoses, the book, itself.  Pythagoras takes us through creation and the formation of bodies of water and transformations of geography. He then takes us through a list of cities and their fate: ‘the rise and fall of civilisations and cultures’ (147). They range from Sparta to Rome with Aeneas’ power transforming the city into a super-power.  Pythagoras makes a prophecy that Rome will be the greatest of all cities and the most powerful. However, if everything is flux, surely this cannot be permanently true? Ovid does not declare that this power will be permanent. Rome can still be transformed. It’s power may not last.

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Egeria and Hippolytus 

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Egeria and Hippolytus

Numa took Pythagoras’ tenets and used them to reign over the states he ruled over- in peace and in war, until he died.  Egeria, his wife flees into the woods full of sorrow where he meets Hippolytus (son of Theseus)  worshipping at an alter for Diana (goddess of the hunt, moon and birthing). Hippolytus tells of his own troubles in order to salve Egeria’s grief.

In bringing in Hippolytus at this time he re-introduces the notion of a Roman hero and transformation (as Hippolytus, wounded is healed and resurrected by Apollo (god of light, sun, truth and prophecy) and Diana. Once changed he reigned over Latium in Italy under the name of Virbius. Hippolytus’ journey represents great strength and fortitude.

As Philip Hardie puts it, this movement is:

‘one of the culminating moments in the accelerating movement of the last books of the poem from the Greek to the Roman world. ‘ (Liveley: 140)

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Cipus

Cipus

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Cipus

Even though Hippolytus has tried to cheer Egeria up, her sorrow is still not assuaged.  She weeps so much that she dissolves into her own tears. Both Diana and Hippolytus are amazed at this. Ovid uses this story to jump into a sequence of transformations and tales which involve amazement, particularly that of Cipus (a famous Roman general) who one day found horns growing out of his head. This tale seems oddly placed within the narrative as Ovid uses it to  jump to the telling of a later period of Roman history.

Cipus returns from a battle conquest and finds horns coming out of his head, confused he goes to a seer and is told  he is Rome’s new king.  However, Cipus is a republican and rejects the kingship. He is exiled and lives outside the city walls. By way of thanks the people of the land give him as a reward as much land as he can plough; and a memorial is carved on the city gates.

It is Cipus, within this tale, that finally brings in the figure of Julius Ceasar who also had refused to accept his crown, and in so doing Ovid brings the story nearer to his own times.

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220px-Asklepios_-_Epidauros

Aesculapius

Aesculapius

Ovid calls to the Muses as he begins to tell the story of Aesculapius (a man-made God) celebrated in Rome for healing a devastating illness that fell upon the people and which brought about their destruction.

In the form of a snake, the god is welcomed into Rome with great verve comparable to those welcomes of the great generals like Julius Caesar. The masses  gather to welcome him. As Aescalapius sheds his snake skin the people are healed of their disease. As Julius Caesar would heal the politics of Rome.

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Augustus Caesar

Augustus Caesar

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The Apotheosis of Julius Caesar

We enter the age of Augustus (founder of the Roman Empire).

In this section of Metamorphoses Ovid ignores Caesar’s deeds in preference to focusing on his metamorphosis.  He reminds us that it is in fact Augustus that made Caesar a god. This is a reversal of the deifications we have seen previously, where mortals were made gods for their great acts of bravery (Hercules, Aeneas, Romulus).  Caesar is made god because of the divinity of his chikdren. Ovid argues that Augustus must be the son of god, therefore Caesar must be that god. Ovid then turns to Venus, as the mother of Rome, who has concerns for Caesar. She tries to save Caesar from the murderous plotting that surrounds him. However she cannot save him as the Fates will not allow it.  Jupiter reassures Venus of her destiny. He states that Caesarr will die, be made a god and Augustus will take over. Augustus is praised on high.  The same level of attention to the Caesars is given in the final book as in book 1 in order to balance the tale at its conclusion.

Ovid returns us to the beginning. The whole continuous poem has been an exploration of the causes that have lead up to this moment- to the Age of Augustus.

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Ovid Rocks

Ovid

Epilogue

Here in the epilogue we are treated to one, final, concluding transformation, that of Ovid himself: that with the existence of Metamorphoses his life will be perpetuated. He will be immortalised by his work. As Lively puts it: ‘the poet will become his own poetry’ (153).  And as the ages pass and change so will he, in flux- his identity and life embeded in his poem.

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Themes, Analysis and Relevance

In Book 15 some of the following ideas and themes are explored:

  •  Overview of History:  In conclusion Ovid takes on an eclectic journey engaging with both battle and quietude. Giving us a very particular take on the journey he has lead us through.
  • Origins and Causes of Life: Through the character of Pythagoras Ovid engages with the impermanence and flux of life and how this connects to notions of mortality. How men are made immortal through deification and the ramifications of this. He looks back through the previous books to do so.
  • Notions of Heroism: In this last book Hippolytus, a great Roman hero, wounded badly,  is saved by Apollo from dying bringing into question the exact nature of heroism.  Is Hippolytus really a hero if he has been saved by a god? Hippolytus endures and prevails against all odds, but what is the real value of this?
  • The immortality of a Poet through his Poem: The relation between a writer and their work has been explored perpetually by writers themselves and by critics. By creating a poem about creation, renewal and death that embodies prehistory and history Ovid immortalises himself for the rest of time by his endeavour.

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Things of Interest:

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The Importance of Ovid

http://www.editoreric.com/greatlit/authors/Ovid.html

 

Hippolytus by Euripides

http://classics.mit.edu/Euripides/hippolytus.html

 

Magic

by Ovid:

YE elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes, and groves,
And ye that on the sands with printless foot
Do chase the ebbing Neptune, and do fly him
When he comes back, you demi-puppets that
By moonshine do the green sour ringlets make,
Whereof the ewe not bites; and you whose pastime
Is to make midnight mushrooms, that rejoice
To hear the solemn curfew; by whose aid,
Weak masters though ye be, I have bedimm’d
The noontide sun, call’d forth the mutinous winds,
And ‘twixt the green sea and the azur’d vault
Set roaring water; to the dread rattling thunder
Have I given fire, and rifted Jove’s stout oak
With hiw own bolt; the strong-bas’d promontory
Have I made shake, and by the spurs pluck’d up
The pine and cedar; graves at my command
Have wak’d their sleepers, op’d, and let ’em forth
By my so potent art.

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/magic-58/

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Optional Prompts and Verse Form

Prompts:  Storm, Hero, Sins, Mystery, Filaments, Dreams, Mountains, Violin, Perishing, Childhood

 

Verse Form:  

Hir a Thoddaid

Is the most common form of a welsh form of verse called the Awdl

Each line has 10 syllables – in no particular metre, though I seem to have lapsed into iambic pentameter here. All lines of each stanza, except for the penultimate one, rhyme together in the conventional way. The penultimate line rhymes with them all in an unconventional way – its seventh, eighth or ninth syllable contains the rhyme. Furthermore, the word at the end of the penultimate line rhymes with a word somewhere in the middle of the last line.

The first 4 lines are the hir, and the last two are the toddaid (which mutates to thoddaid when you put the phrase together, due to the endearing peculiarities of the Welsh language). The hir can have 2 lines or 6, rather than the 4 used here, but all its lines must always rhyme together.

See here for more information.

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n.b. I will shortly put up  an audio of the Epilogue in case any of you are too busy to read the book.

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Watch out for more poetry inspired by Book  14 and 15  coming out throughout March and April.

To confirm: the deadline for Book 1 Poetry is today Wednesday 30th April

 

 

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References:

Brunauer, Dalma H (1996) The Metamorphoses of Ovid, New Jersey Research and Education Association

Hughes, T (1997) Tales from Ovid, London: Faber and Faber

Liveley, G. (2011) Ovid’s Metamorphoses, A Reader’s Guide,  London: continuum

Ovid (1986) Metamorphoses, World Classics, tr. A.D. Melville, Oxford: Oxford University Press

 

 >>>>

 

 

‘Fates and Forces’ Wave 4/4: Transformations Poems (Book 13)

26 Mar

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 13

.Featuring:

Karin Heyer and Eleanor Perry

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Hecuba’s Pain

by Karin Heyer

The last king of Troy weeps
aged, war-worn,
mourning many sons and daughters,
King Priam weary, weary
of protracted war,
killing hope and potential.
Captured are Troy’s lofty dreams,
the fate of Troy sealed,
guaranteed its fall…

On both sides in a war
mothers mourn.
No way to heal her hurt,
unhinged Hecuba, raging lioness
prowls the road:
howling, haunted in her loss
of all
her children!
Unable to comprehend
the tragedy of ceaseless murder
and sacrifice,
her mind gives way,
forever.

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the colour of a river

by Eleanor Perry

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the colour of a river by Eleanor Perry

 

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You can find more about Eleanor here:

 http://themusicofbreakages.wordpress.com/

http://www.zonepoetrymagazine.com/

https://twitter.com/nellperry

 

Karin, as yet, does not have a website. However you can contact her via ArtiPeeps.

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Tomorrow we’ll be posting out the second instalment of our ‘Hot Potato’ Initiative. 6 writers creating 1 short story over 12 weeks. If you missed out on the first instalment by Steve Harris you can see it here.
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As ever, thank you for your interest.
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‘Fates and Forces’ Wave 3/4: Transformations Poems (Book 13)

20 Mar

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 13

.Featuring:

Richard Biddle

Transform(ed)

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The unearthly round mysteries address us now upon shores where we fist our pockets with running battles over spent matches.Tongue the rival’s sex without any insecurity. No being secures the famous juice on the budded realm of my sensitive muscle.

This being refused, only their arms are needed for the service, severed from their bodies by the only real moving blade. There is no heart rate, neither a daughter nor son for my own return of my children. Then rock a horse not a chair, see the fire on its own reaching me. The flames return to my arms, there is no spirit for the world of the miserable.

That we may rob a new flower or be seen to have finished our thievery of rose in every manner.

There, in the rise, as if no words could scarcely be, a fact of related meaning to my instinct. The relative and the no shape are so far for the letters of the reserves mighty function. They took what they reckon they needed and nothing ships filled the back of his refused mind. The return and no showing fed off their refused, locally made anagrams.

Take our rogue dreams away for no two are the same or come from there or reveal more. To be returned and to know now should fate turn on this received wisdom like my mood. Their result is a thing that now shoulders us, for here we are of and can receive, moreover, understand.

The open realise we are not supposing false ideas of lazy rigours between my lines. Thought results as a brain nurses its still imagination like fortune’s lost or of layers revealed in the midst of the mayhem. The forgotten remember to allow themselves not to snatch at murmurings from their own ranks or my improvisations.

The rewards are not strength enough for the other right in front of me that rows as I am now by the side from the hidden alphabet or the mortal remains of me. The result is that the arms not snatched or forced out, record who is murdered. Their raging altar is now snapped for favourable photographs of roofs of money. As to the remaining arms, not capable of seeing, they are fixed on the ransom mother.

The restrained and the number suffered a fate of royal pardon most heinous. The remains and the now should be feared. As our energy runs out my tattered and torn remain. Am I not scattering foreign nonsense upon the once upon a time rock mounting?

Then revenge is a joker not a scoundrel for the over confident rage mouth. Too far gone to be remembering as no sorrow is called for on this rosy morning. The right is left and a nodded smoke fogs on, resembling the made. The remembering is a name for the sun fight of which reeking is made. Their times to remember are no shape and the final of the removed mother. The rocky is a name for the sacrificial that stems from origin, from the moved.

Three run and the north stars are a fleet of reached and many. Them are the ruthless and nymph sisters fingers tap on the one reason mother. The rake and the spade are never placed on the single forehead or the returning mountain. The rock and the paper are not the same as the fiercer ocean, you will not regret me. The roaming are seeing the need to see for the offspring of rennet make eyes.

Those who raise assuredly are not sheep fleece on or from the rejecting mine, though we realise, as the never suspecting fled, that it was neither us or the rock that was massive. To create redness at the name we stopped putting it in, for out is more recently seen as might, till we reached a nearby voice that spoke to the fierce of the realm in myself.

The received and the nature of sin come flowing over as we remember the mind.

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You can find more about Richard here:

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

https://twitter.com/littledeaths68

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Tomorrow you’ll find Weekend Showcase, featuring writer Shirley Golden and a short story she has written. Thank you for your interest.
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