November Ekphrastic Challenge: Day 30

Jane Dougherty Writes

Final day of Paul Brookes’ challenge and I’m pleased to say I participated every day. Some prompts were more challenging than others; some produced poems grimmer than I enjoy writing. Some drew out memories, unexpected but worth airing now that any fear or unease is long laid to rest.

Thank you, Paul for your generosity in preparing all this and giving us a platform for our work.

Visitors by Terry Chipp

TC30 Visitors (2)

Rose by MJSaucer

MjS 30 Rose

 

Night visitors

Silent
between the wardrobe and the door
made of shadow and shifting moonlight
they were always there

still are but now I know who they are
and why they are here.
Their eyes have lost the piercing questioning
and smile gravely

welcoming me to join the endless chain
back and forth stitched with shreds
and shards and sighs of sorrow
cradling moon-pale bones and the sepia rose.

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Day Thirtieth : Welcome to a special ekphrastic challenge for November. Artworks from Terry Chipp, Marcel Herms, MJ Saucer, P A Morbid, the inspiration for writers, Gaynor Kane, Peach Delphine, Sally O’Dowd, sonja benskin mesher, Anindita Sengupta, Liam Michael Stainsby, Sarah Connor, Sarah Reeson, Holly York, Jane Dougherty, Gayle J Greenlea, Susan Darlington, Lydia Wist, Dai Fry, and myself. November 30th.

Day 30
TC30 Visitors (2)
Visitors by Terry Chipp
MjS 30 Rose
Rose by Mj Saucer

(Visitors (2))

“End of a Night Walk”

Sunrise followed an all night walk
Sunlight touched the forest in a way uncanny
As to highlight only certain trees and
In my unrested state I thought I saw three visitors approach
Before realising the visitor was surely me
-Lydia Wist

Cherokee Roses

In 1838, my mother’s people left gold-rich lands to walk
the Trail of Tears. ‘Left’ is white man’s euphemism
for ‘abducted’: men arrested in fields, women and children
forced at the end of musket barrels to march without

moccasins. ‘Walk’ is white man’s doublespeak for death
march: 1200 miles, brutal and bleak. In November’s freeze
the Cherokee marched, slept in snow under blankets of stars,
stalked by hunger and disease, to cross the Mississippi

in pig traders’ boats. Lives annihilated by greed. No screeds
of protest when Van Buren ignored the Supreme Court
decision granting sovereignty to tribes. Demoralized
by years of occupation, my relatives hid in mountain regions,

changing their name to ‘Rose’. Under colonization, even names
are victims of genocide. The rose was our Scottish ancestor’s
emblem. Stokes Pruitt married a Cherokee, helped disguise her
people’s identity until soldiers came, flushed them out. They

marched with 16,000. Four thousand died. The grandmothers
cried, fearful for survival of the children. Every day they marched
and wept until Great Spirit told them in a dream: come sunrise,
look back upon the trail; a sign hope would be revealed.

In dawn’s early light they saw, winding back towards home,
for every fallen tear, white roses bloomed,
amid a plant with seven leaves,
one for each clan of the Cherokee.

And if today you peer in morning’s brume,
along the road they marched,
you may see footprints,
white petals opening in their wake.

— Gayle J. Greenlea

Visit Rose

it seemed
a good idea
us, and that
combined, except
beautiful contemplation;
begins, anew

-Sarah Reeson

day 30.

:: two::

52.59.3.
two voices softly said

“yes”

they cannot
understand the numbers
nor find their families
***
the rose was gently pressed
between pages
***
it is a birthday today

..sbm..

Visitors (2) and Rose

Experiences
after Emily Dickinson’s A Rose

They may come bearing thorns,
searing pain of mourning,
not honey but stingers. Two,
no, three faces through gauzy breeze
whisper the wisdom of trees
and leave behind a rose.

-Holly York

TC30
Visitors

Faces floating out of the wall
of memory, the dead speak
but we don’t listen,
we were fed in nothingness
the empty dialog of moving images
passed through our mouths,
such wings that we grew
advertised our terrible purpose,
the dead offer us words
we burn, each utterance
licked by flame,
the dead come, ephemeral
as always, but we offer
nothing but ash
and ask no news
of those gone on.

-Peach Delphine

Night visitors

Silent
between the wardrobe and the door
made of shadow and shifting moonlight
they were always there

still are but now I know who they are
and why they are here.
Their eyes have lost the piercing questioning
and smile gravely

welcoming me to join the endless chain
back and forth stitched with shreds
and shards and sighs of sorrow
cradling moon-pale bones and the sepia rose.

-Jane Dougherty

THE VISITORS

Visitors bring
their esoteric truths,
kabbalistic and misunderstood.

For their strangeness
in itself, is
a kind of blinding.

Hermetic truth
hidden amongst
bales of perceived treasure.

None see what is cloaked.
Glitter and finery really
promise fugacious riches.

But the truth is always
lost in plain day sight.

And the road to these treasures
is metalled and wide.
Leaving death and extinction
in its wake.

© Dai Fry 29th November 2020.

Bios and Links

-Terry Chipp

grew up in Thurnscoe and ia now living in Doncaster via Wath Grammar school, Doncaster Art College, Bede College in Durham and 30 years teaching.

He sold his first painting at the Goldthorpe Welfare Hall annual exhibition at the age of 17 and he haven’t stopped painting since.

He escaped the classroom 20 years ago to devote more time to his artwork.  Since then he has set up his own studio in Doncaster, exhibited across the north of England as a member of the Leeds Fine Artists group and had his painting demonstrations featured on the SAA’s Painting and drawing TV channel.  Further afield he has accepted invitations to work with international artists’ groups in Spain, Macedonia, Montenegro and USA where his paintings are held in public and private collections. In 2018 he had a solo exhibition in Warsaw, Poland and a joint exhibition in Germany.

His pictures cover a wide range of styles and subjects from abstract to photo-realism though he frequently returns to his main loves of landscape and people.

Visitors are welcome at his studio in the old Art College on Church View, Doncaster.

e-mail:  terry@terrychipp.co.uk

Facebook:  Terry Chipp Fine Art Painting

Instagram: @chippko.art

-Marcel Herms

is a Dutch visual artist. He is also one of the two men behind the publishing house Petrichor. Freedom is very important in the visual work of Marcel Herms. In his paintings he can express who he really is in complete freedom. Without the social barriers of everyday life.
There is a strong relationship with music. Like music, Herms’ art is about autonomy, freedom, passion, color and rhythm. You can hear the rhythm of the colors, the rhythm of the brushstrokes, the raging cry of the pencil, the subtle melody of a collage. The figures in his paintings rotate around you in shock, they are heavily abstracted, making it unclear what they are doing. Sometimes they look like people, monsters, children or animals, or something in between. Sometimes they disappear to be replaced immediately or to take on a different guise. The paintings invite the viewer to join this journey. Free-spirited.

He collaborates with many different authors, poets, visual artists and audio artists from around the world and his work is published by many different publishers.

www.marcelherms.nl

www.uitgeverijpetrichor.nl

-Jane Dougherty

writes novels, short stories and lots of poems. Among her publications is her first chapbook of poetry, thicker than water. She is also a regular contributor to Visual Verse and the Ekphrastic Review. You can find her on twitter @MJDougherty33 and on her blog https://janedougherty.wordpress.com/

-Peach Delphine

is a queer poet from Tampa, Florida. Infatuated with what remains of the undeveloped Gulf coast. Former cook. Has had poems in Cypress Press, Feral Poetry, IceFloe Press, Petrichor. Can be found on Twitter@Peach Delphine

-Dai Fry

is a poet living on the south coast of England. Originally from Swansea. Wales was and still is a huge influence on everything. My pen is my brush. Twitter:  

@thnargg

Web: http://seekingthedarklight.co.uk

-Susan Darlington

Susan Darlington’s poetry regularly explores the female experience through nature-based symbolism and stories of transformation. It has been published in Fragmented Voices, Algebra Of Owls, Dreams Walking, and Anti-Heroin Chic among others. Her debut collection, ‘Under The Devil’s Moon’, was published by Penniless Press Publications (2015). Follow her @S_sanDarlington    

-Holly York

lives in Atlanta, Georgia with her two large, frightening lapdogs. A PhD in French language and literature, she has retired from teaching French to university students, as well as from fierce competition in martial arts and distance running. She has produced the chapbooks Backwards Through the Rekroy Wen, Scapes, and Postcard Poetry 2020. When she isn’t hard at work writing poems in English, she might be found reading them in French to her long-suffering grandchildren, who don’t yet speak French.

-Gayle J. Greenlea

is an award-winning poet and counselor for survivors of sexual and gender-related violence. Her poem, “Wonderland”, received the Australian Poetry Prod Award in 2011. She shortlisted and longlisted for the Fish Poetry Prize in 2013, and debuted her first novel Zero Gravity at the KGB Literary Bar in Manhattan in 2016. Her work has been published in St. Julian Press, Rebelle Society, A Time to Speak, Astronomy Magazine, Headline Poetry and Press and The Australian Health Review.

-Lydia Wist

Like someone who tries out hats or other samples before making a final decision, experimenting with different ideas and techniques is how Lydia spends some of her time. This allows for other portions of time to speak through the lens of fiction, creative nonfiction and art. You can find her work at Cargo Collective , Lydia Wist Creative and on Twitter @Lydiawist.

Website links:

https://cargocollective.com/lydiawist

https://www.facebook.com/lydiawistcreative/

-Sarah Connor

lives in the wild, wet, south-west of England, surrounded by mud and apple trees. She writes poems to make sense of the world, and would rather weed than wash up.

-sonja benskin mesher

-Liam Stainsby

holds a bachelor in English Literature and Creative Writing and is a secondary school teacher of English and Creative Writing. Liam is currently writing his first, professional collection of poetry entitled Borders that explores poetry from all around the world. Liam also Co-Hosts a movie discussion podcast entitled: The Pick and Mix Podcast. Liam writes under the pseudonym ‘Michael The Poet’ 

Links: WordPress: https://michael-the-poet.com/

Twitter: stainsby_liam

Instagram: Michael The Poet

-Sarah Reeson

is 54, married and a mother of two, who has been writing and telling stories since childhood. Over the last decade she has utilised writing not just as entertainment, but as a means to improve personal communication skills. That process unexpectedly uncovered increasingly difficult and unpleasant feelings, many forgotten for decades. Diagnosed as a historic trauma survivor in May 2019, Mental health issues had previously hindered the entirety of her adult life: the shift into writing as expression and part of a larger journey into self-awareness began to slowly unwind for her from the past, providing inspiration and focus for a late career change as a multidisciplined artist.

Website: http://internetofwords.com

-Gaynor Kane

is a Northern Irish poet from Belfast. She has two poetry pamphlets, and a full collection, from Hedgehog Poetry Press, they are Circling the Sun, Memory Forest and Venus in pink marble (2018, 2019 and Summer 2020 respectively). She is co-author, along with Karen Mooney, of Penned In a poetry pamphlet written in response to the pandemic and due for release 30th November 2020.  Follow her on Twitter @gaynorkane or read more at www.gaynorkane.com.

Anindita Sengupta

is the author of Walk Like Monsters (Paperwall, 2016) and City of Water (Sahitya Akademi, 2010). Her work has appeared in anthologies and journals such as Plume, 580 Split, One and Breakwater Review. She is Contributing Editor, Poetry, at Barren Magazine. She has received fellowships and awards from the Charles Wallace Trust India, the International Reporting Project, TFA India and Muse India. She currently lives in Los Angeles, California. Her website is http://aninditasengupta.com 

Its Not Home Without Her – A Poetry Film by Julie Easley

IceFloe Press


Photo of Julie Easley by Kev Howard

Julie Easley is a working-class poet from Saltburn in the UK, host/organiser of DiVerse poetry, an active member of Tees Women Poets, a twice commissioned Deranged Poetess and an Apple and Snakes BlackBox performance poet.Julie is published or due to be published in several Anthologies from Ek Zuban Press, Kirjastus Luul, Slice of the Moon books, Dreich magazine, StepAway magazine, Versification, and Stone of Madness Press.Twitter: (1) Julie Easley (@JulieEasley) / Twitter

Banner: A still from It’s Not Home Without Her by Julie Easley

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One Who Wears Darkness as Cloth by Sanni Omodolapo

IceFloe Press

One who wears darkness as cloth

mother is fishing for light in the murky waters of her

body she plucks stars from the sky & hides them

behind her eyes, slices part of the moon &keeps it

under her threadbare wrapper. even if she does have

light,shemustn’t show it because father is

photophobic, verysensitivetolight,&she is

unworthy- lightisforhumans,sheisnot one.

mother is a owl in the night that is her life, lone &

tired.look, in father’s eyes, every time his hand

raises to weave her body into a basket full of dead

things what lies there, feral, isan expectation, an

eagernesstouncover hidden things shrouded in light,

paradoxical in nature. happiness is sour on mother’s

palate &peace is the foreign subject of a cold, distant

god,&speaking the language of love is a trick her

tongue has not mastered,yet others wonder why she

hates sugar & watermelons.see, mother is a strange

woman: her body…

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November Ekphrastic Challenge: Day 29

Jane Dougherty Writes

Penultimate day of this challenge and the image is The Trees Were So Much Bigger Then by Terry Chipp.

TC29 The trees were so much bigger then..

Memories

There was terror then in the vastness of things,
the palpable hot breath stickiness of night,
the lost paths among buildings and trees.

Walking in the valley of the shadow of death,
I would murmur childish pleas
to the great eye beyond the clouds—

show me the way home, not skyward,
the passage to darkness and distant singing,
the beating of cold wings,

just home, to where the birds sing,
and the trees are the right size.

View original post

Day Twenty-Ninth : Welcome to a special ekphrastic challenge for November. Artworks from Terry Chipp, Marcel Herms, MJ Saucer, P A Morbid, the inspiration for writers, Gaynor Kane, Peach Delphine, Sally O’Dowd, sonja benskin mesher, Anindita Sengupta, Liam Michael Stainsby, Sarah Connor, Sarah Reeson, Holly York, Jane Dougherty, Gayle J Greenlea, Susan Darlington, Lydia Wist, Dai Fry, and myself. November 29th.

November Twenty-Ninth
TC29 The trees were so much bigger then..
The Trees Were So Much Bigger Then by Terry Chipp.

(The Trees Were So Much Bigger Then)

“See Things for what They Are”

It is really, really dark
A large screen looms with no one to watch but threatening altocumulus clouds

Partly true, it is dark
A lot of things are cut off that we have been used to
Turn the picture around
You’ll get a fuller understanding

They sky is still here,
The trees and the landscapes, countryside and towns; the screens will come back to life

-Lydia Wist

Trees Die Standing Up

Today, small fires dot the map in NSW.
Wind whips through the sweltering
afternoon, 108-degrees. Trees, still green,

wave their limbs in warning. Every living
thing remembers last Summer: gums
ejecting stars like fire crackers, birds

falling from the sky, mob of kangaroos
vaulting through the conflagration, ablaze.
Koalas with burned paws and too-short

legs towing their babies through flames.
Wombats burrowing to safety. A billion
animals lost, hundreds of billions of insects

incinerated; 17-million hectares charred
to ash. Even rainforests smoldered. Our
Lucky Country nearly defeated by infernos

that melted cars and forced Aussies to flee
to beaches, under a sky, Martian red.
We do not forget the dead; people and

towns and notions that we can evade
Climate Change. Each burst of wind carries
a threat. Like the koalas, I sniff air

for smoke, look at the boxes I packed
last Summer when it seemed inevitable
we’d run. I never unpacked them. They

sit, testament to trauma. Meanwhile,
the gums sway; brace to die standing up,
seeds daring smoke to break them.

— Gayle J.Greenlea (“Trees die standing up” from the play,
Los Arboles Mueren de Pie, by Alejandro Casona)

Memories

There was terror then in the vastness of things,
the palpable hot breath stickiness of night,
the lost paths among buildings and trees.

Walking in the valley of the shadow of death,
I would murmur childish pleas
to the great eye beyond the clouds—

show me the way home, not skyward,
the passage to darkness and distant singing,
the beating of cold wings,

just home, to where the birds sing,
and the trees are the right size.

-Jane Dougherty

The trees were so much bigger then

volumes swept by light
giant in a chartreuse skirt,
arms spread to embrace

-Holly York

.day 29.

:: these trees ::

feels like autumn now, cat is in, windows misted

a challenge to describe these trees as suggested

the gentle good, dawel disgyn, little time
left, nor funds for flying

tiny things become intimate

you may put them in cases, or hang on pins
straight or safety, it becomes political

the choice is yours

you are the curator

maybe things are red with black
today

..sbm..

TC29
The trees were much bigger then

Before storms and developers,
people want a view and a lawn,
not to live like pigs in a forest,
and trees are money, topsoil
as well, scraped off and sold,
turf would mostly die
being scraggly stuff,
by then the project built out,
developer long gone,
people pretending not to stare
in each other’s windows,
a lot full of dead stuff,
a broiler plate
in summer sun.

-Peach Delphine

Trees

no envy left
because this space,
as all others, just
repetition;
what was once
beautiful, clear

-Sarah Reeson

TREES ARE ICEBERGS

When I was young,
they seemed bigger.
Proud standing above the land.

Bark like elephant skin,
they have no obvious bite.
In fact the only teeth they fear
are in the jaw of the saw.

I once met a man
who told me, we
can never be truly sure
that trees exist.

Try running down
the hill, pell-mell.
Full of vim and vigour.
Straight into their
iron trunks.
They are there.

What I never knew
was that trees are like
icebergs. So much
more under the ground.

Its where they talk
and feed each other.
Looking after the
weak and the sick.

I love trees and fervently hope,
that they in turn love me.

© Dai Fry 28th November 2020.

Bios and Links

-Terry Chipp

grew up in Thurnscoe and ia now living in Doncaster via Wath Grammar school, Doncaster Art College, Bede College in Durham and 30 years teaching.

He sold his first painting at the Goldthorpe Welfare Hall annual exhibition at the age of 17 and he haven’t stopped painting since.

He escaped the classroom 20 years ago to devote more time to his artwork.  Since then he has set up his own studio in Doncaster, exhibited across the north of England as a member of the Leeds Fine Artists group and had his painting demonstrations featured on the SAA’s Painting and drawing TV channel.  Further afield he has accepted invitations to work with international artists’ groups in Spain, Macedonia, Montenegro and USA where his paintings are held in public and private collections. In 2018 he had a solo exhibition in Warsaw, Poland and a joint exhibition in Germany.

His pictures cover a wide range of styles and subjects from abstract to photo-realism though he frequently returns to his main loves of landscape and people.

Visitors are welcome at his studio in the old Art College on Church View, Doncaster.

e-mail:  terry@terrychipp.co.uk

Facebook:  Terry Chipp Fine Art Painting

Instagram: @chippko.art

-Marcel Herms

is a Dutch visual artist. He is also one of the two men behind the publishing house Petrichor. Freedom is very important in the visual work of Marcel Herms. In his paintings he can express who he really is in complete freedom. Without the social barriers of everyday life.
There is a strong relationship with music. Like music, Herms’ art is about autonomy, freedom, passion, color and rhythm. You can hear the rhythm of the colors, the rhythm of the brushstrokes, the raging cry of the pencil, the subtle melody of a collage. The figures in his paintings rotate around you in shock, they are heavily abstracted, making it unclear what they are doing. Sometimes they look like people, monsters, children or animals, or something in between. Sometimes they disappear to be replaced immediately or to take on a different guise. The paintings invite the viewer to join this journey. Free-spirited.

He collaborates with many different authors, poets, visual artists and audio artists from around the world and his work is published by many different publishers.

www.marcelherms.nl

www.uitgeverijpetrichor.nl

-Jane Dougherty

writes novels, short stories and lots of poems. Among her publications is her first chapbook of poetry, thicker than water. She is also a regular contributor to Visual Verse and the Ekphrastic Review. You can find her on twitter @MJDougherty33 and on her blog https://janedougherty.wordpress.com/

-Peach Delphine

is a queer poet from Tampa, Florida. Infatuated with what remains of the undeveloped Gulf coast. Former cook. Has had poems in Cypress Press, Feral Poetry, IceFloe Press, Petrichor. Can be found on Twitter@Peach Delphine

-Dai Fry

is a poet living on the south coast of England. Originally from Swansea. Wales was and still is a huge influence on everything. My pen is my brush. Twitter:  

@thnargg

Web: http://seekingthedarklight.co.uk

-Susan Darlington

Susan Darlington’s poetry regularly explores the female experience through nature-based symbolism and stories of transformation. It has been published in Fragmented Voices, Algebra Of Owls, Dreams Walking, and Anti-Heroin Chic among others. Her debut collection, ‘Under The Devil’s Moon’, was published by Penniless Press Publications (2015). Follow her @S_sanDarlington    

-Holly York

lives in Atlanta, Georgia with her two large, frightening lapdogs. A PhD in French language and literature, she has retired from teaching French to university students, as well as from fierce competition in martial arts and distance running. She has produced the chapbooks Backwards Through the Rekroy Wen, Scapes, and Postcard Poetry 2020. When she isn’t hard at work writing poems in English, she might be found reading them in French to her long-suffering grandchildren, who don’t yet speak French.

-Gayle J. Greenlea

is an award-winning poet and counselor for survivors of sexual and gender-related violence. Her poem, “Wonderland”, received the Australian Poetry Prod Award in 2011. She shortlisted and longlisted for the Fish Poetry Prize in 2013, and debuted her first novel Zero Gravity at the KGB Literary Bar in Manhattan in 2016. Her work has been published in St. Julian Press, Rebelle Society, A Time to Speak, Astronomy Magazine, Headline Poetry and Press and The Australian Health Review.

-Lydia Wist

Like someone who tries out hats or other samples before making a final decision, experimenting with different ideas and techniques is how Lydia spends some of her time. This allows for other portions of time to speak through the lens of fiction, creative nonfiction and art. You can find her work at Cargo Collective , Lydia Wist Creative and on Twitter @Lydiawist.

Website links:

https://cargocollective.com/lydiawist

https://www.facebook.com/lydiawistcreative/

-Sarah Connor

lives in the wild, wet, south-west of England, surrounded by mud and apple trees. She writes poems to make sense of the world, and would rather weed than wash up.

-sonja benskin mesher

-Liam Stainsby

holds a bachelor in English Literature and Creative Writing and is a secondary school teacher of English and Creative Writing. Liam is currently writing his first, professional collection of poetry entitled Borders that explores poetry from all around the world. Liam also Co-Hosts a movie discussion podcast entitled: The Pick and Mix Podcast. Liam writes under the pseudonym ‘Michael The Poet’ 

Links: WordPress: https://michael-the-poet.com/

Twitter: stainsby_liam

Instagram: Michael The Poet

-Sarah Reeson

is 54, married and a mother of two, who has been writing and telling stories since childhood. Over the last decade she has utilised writing not just as entertainment, but as a means to improve personal communication skills. That process unexpectedly uncovered increasingly difficult and unpleasant feelings, many forgotten for decades. Diagnosed as a historic trauma survivor in May 2019, Mental health issues had previously hindered the entirety of her adult life: the shift into writing as expression and part of a larger journey into self-awareness began to slowly unwind for her from the past, providing inspiration and focus for a late career change as a multidisciplined artist.

Website: http://internetofwords.com

-Gaynor Kane

is a Northern Irish poet from Belfast. She has two poetry pamphlets, and a full collection, from Hedgehog Poetry Press, they are Circling the Sun, Memory Forest and Venus in pink marble (2018, 2019 and Summer 2020 respectively). She is co-author, along with Karen Mooney, of Penned In a poetry pamphlet written in response to the pandemic and due for release 30th November 2020.  Follow her on Twitter @gaynorkane or read more at www.gaynorkane.com.

Anindita Sengupta

is the author of Walk Like Monsters (Paperwall, 2016) and City of Water (Sahitya Akademi, 2010). Her work has appeared in anthologies and journals such as Plume, 580 Split, One and Breakwater Review. She is Contributing Editor, Poetry, at Barren Magazine. She has received fellowships and awards from the Charles Wallace Trust India, the International Reporting Project, TFA India and Muse India. She currently lives in Los Angeles, California. Her website is http://aninditasengupta.com 

Drop in by Niall M Oliver

Nigel Kent - Poet and Reviewer

I’m delighted to welcome Niall Oliver this week to reflect on his wonderfully witty, observational pamphlet, My Boss

…Thank you Nigel, it’s a real honour to be invited on here to talk about my work, and in particular about my debut pamphlet My Boss. The whole thing has actually taken me by surprise. I didn’t actually plan to write it, never mind have it published and to hear so many people speak positively about it has been the icing on the cake.

Rather than follow your usual format of selecting a poem to talk about, I’ve decided to explain how the collection came about. The reason for this is that the poems form a series of sorts, and don’t necessarily stand by themselves, however I will feature one of the poems just to give a flavour of the content.

The collection itself depicts the dynamics between manager and subordinate…

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#16DaysOfAction 25th November-10th December poetry and artwork challenge. Have you written about domestic abuse? Have you made artworks about Domestic Abuse? How does it affect work in the workplace? Please DM me, or message me via my WordPress site.

Lights in every window by Jenny Mitchell

-Jenny Michell (first published in Perhappened Mag

When Dad Turns Into The Incredible Hulk

-Neal Zetter

Domestic Violence by Kushal Poddar

-by Kushal Poddar

The Farmer’s Wife of The Moonshine Village

A shadow, familiar, slips inside
the farmer’s hut, and
at the same time the farmer’s wife
bears some new
stains of black and blue,

and she knows – the man has
a long day screwed into
his sun bitten skull,
way too deep to indulge
in any thought other than
of moonshine
and of raw contact between
skin and skin, brawn and brawn, thew
and thawing away marriage.

And always she sleeps
through the proceedings,
denies all before
the white skinned social worker,
tells her, “Why don’t you fix
the council and the banking?”

Blood crawls down and up
the gutter for a while, and
then clots into a comatosed dream

-Kushal Poddar

November Ekphrastic Challenge: Day 28

Jane Dougherty Writes

The painting I chose to use for Paul Brookes’ challenge is Seclusion by Terry Chipp.

TC28 Seclusion

Solitude

Between beams of living wood
beneath branch rafters thatched
with leaves lit by sun and moon
is my house.
Music of bird and stream burble
falling leaves and the wind
in spindle bushes is the balm
in this calm pulsing green
the air clean of electric vibes
the twitter of disembodies voices.
Here would be peace heaven
if only the absence of you was
not darker than this patch
of reflected sky.

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