A History of Poetry Comics #02

JB's avatarJB

Poetry comics are different than captioned illustrations or ekphrastic poems, which rely on someone else’s drawings for explanation/inspiration. For the most part, poetry comic artists create their own pictures paired with their own words. There are abundant and inspiring exceptions always, but there’s something about an artist showing their singular mind-thought that grabs and holds me.

Poet Kenneth Patchen (1911-1972) created what he called “picture poems” drawing inspiration from Blake’s illuminations. I first encountered Patchen’s drawings in his Collected Poems, which I bought at a used book store in San Francisco in the early 90s. Scattered among the collection, starting about halfway, are hand-drawn poems often with lettering dominating the composition interwoven with modern-art-influenced animals and figures or chart-like illustrations. I wanted more!

Much later I found more in Patchen’s We Meet (New Directions, 2008) and The Walking-Away World (New Directions, 2008), which collected his out-of-print works from the…

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Alphabet Poem

Spriha Kant's avatarSpriha Kant

I AM AN INDEPENDENT HAPPY SINGLE WOMAN:

Accepting the truth our relationship has crumbled
Because remaining stuck in the past doesn’t work practically
Continuing my life afresh
Doing paintings and calligraphy
Emerging as an emotionally independent single woman
Fiercely facing all the blowing gusts individually
Guttering tears have stopped flowing from my eyes now
Hollowed hopes are now pitter-pattering with desirous raindrops
Including a to-do list in my target column
Joys are smooching me now
Keeping away all the things possessing our moments together
Loving myself
Moving on toward that point where the distance between us is of leap years
No need for any love in my life anymore
Organizing all the cluttered books in my library
Praising all the good poetries of others by myself with a cup of coffee
Quitting unnecessary mental stresses
Revamping my looks, old poetries, and interior of my home
Singing my favorite songs in…

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Folktober Challenge, Day 10

merrildsmith's avatarYesterday and today: Merril's historical musings

Headless horseman

a man killed in battle, a ghost
doomed to ride through foreign lands–

or a demon, a dark fairy, calling the name of those
about to die–
perhaps he is Death himself—

perhaps he rides, not only a horse, but a donkey, or camel,
or he may travel on foot, or rumble on a motorcycle—

no need for a helmet–
he holds his head at his side,

if he summons you, ignore him, look away–
no one lives who sees his face.

Paul Brookes is hosting a month-long ekphrastic challenge using folklore images to celebrate the launch of his new poetry collection, “As Folktaleteller.” You can see the images here and also read the other responses.

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#WorldMentalHealthDay today October 10th This years theme is “Make mental health and wellbeing for all a global priority”. I will feature your published/unpublished poetry/short prose/artworks about mental health. Please include a short third person bio in your email to me.

wmhd-graphic-no-date workd mentalChiaroscuro

The moon drums its fingers
across Carnelian Lake, shrugs,
waits for the loon cry.
Seckel pears fester on the ground,
soft & meaningless. Blisters
weep for winter, feed
what could become spring.

Could. Conditional tense,
what we wish for. Hope for.
The gaze is everything
Silence scabs thought
& all dead belong to the King.
God. Religion’s needle,
dull blue bruise. Hurt
means feeling & feeling
means alive. We knuckle
our fear. We hope

our feet to the floor
every morning. A new
song drops & we dance
in the kitchen, throw open
our curtains to the sky.

-Lynne Jensen Lampe

My Desirous Destination:

I am lost in the haunted labyrinth of uncertainties.
My frustrations are frightening me
like poltergeists.
Like a vagabond, my conversation is wandering
from person to person
yet no one gave me a compass
that can lead me to
a station from where I can
board a train to relief.
But I don’t wanna
surrender to the tenebrous shell so
I will continue reading and writing poetries
for they are my amulets.

-©Spriha Kant

Bios and Links

-Lynne Jensen Lampe

was born in Newfoundland and raised mostly in Louisiana. Themes of conformity, sanity, gender, and faith often find their way into her work, including her debut collection, Talk Smack to a Hurricane (Ice Floe Press, 2022). Her poems appear in many journals, including MoistFigure 1YemasseeThe American Journal of Poetry, and One, as well as UK anthology SMEOP: Urban and on podcasts such as Eat the Storms. She was a finalist for the 2020 Red Wheelbarrow Poetry Prize. Lynne lives with her husband and two dogs in the US Midwest, where she edits academic books and journals. Find her at https://lynnejensenlampe.com or on Twitter @LJensenLampe.

A link to Lynne’s new book’s page at Ice Floe: https://icefloepress.net/talk-smack-to-a-hurricane-lynne-jensen-lampe/

-Spriha Kant

developed an interest in reading and writing poetries at a very tender age. Her poetry “The Seashell” was first published online in the “Imaginary Land Stories” on August 8, 2020, by Sunmeet Singh. She has been a part of Stuart Matthew’s anthologies “Sing, Do the birds of Spring” and “A Whisper Of Your Love” in the fourth and fifth series of the books from #InstantEternal poetry prompts. She has been featured in the Bob Dylan-inspired anthology “Hard Rain Poetry: Forever Dylan” by the founder and editor of the website “Fevers of the Mind Poetry and Art” David L O’ Nan. Her poetries have been published in the anthology “Bare Bones Writing Issue 1: Fevers of the Mind”. Paul Brookes has featured her poetry, “A Monstrous Shadow” as the “Seventh Synergy” in “SYNERGY: CALLING ALL WRITERS WHO ARE PHOTOGRAPHERS” on his blog “Wombwell Rainbow”. She has been featured in the “Quick-9 interview” on feversofthemind.com by David L’O Nan. Her acrostic poetry “A Rainstorm” has been featured in the Poetic Form Challenge on the blog “Wombwell Rainbow” owned by Paul Brookes. She also joined the movement “World Suicide Prevention Day” by contributing her poetry “Giving Up The Smooch” on the blog “Wombwell Rainbow”, an initiative taken by Paul Brookes. She celebrated National Poetry Day by contributing her poetry “Travel in the Laps of Nature” to the blog “Wombwell Rainbow”. Her poetry “I love your smile” has been featured by Paul Brookes on his blog “Wombwell Rainbow” for the celebration of “World Smile Day”. She has reviewed the poetry books “Silence From The Shadows” by Stuart Matthews and “Spaces” by Clive Gresswell.

#folktober #ekphrasticchallenge. Day Ten. To celebrate the launch of my new poetry collection “As Folktaleteller” I am downloading 93 folklore art images, 3 per day in October and asking writers to write poetry or a short prose inspired by one, two or all three images. Please join Kirsten Irving, Gaynor Kane, Ankh Spice, Jane Dougherty, Kyla Houbolt, Jacqueline Dempsey-Cohen, Chris Husband, Eryn McConnell, Dave Garbutt, Merril Smith and I, plus those who react to the images on the day, as we explore images from folktales.

F 1.10. dullahan-irish-headless-horseman

F 1.10. dullahan-irish-headless-horseman

F 2.10. Basilisk

F 2.10. Basilisk

F 3.10. Sekien Jorogumo

F 3.10. Sekien Jorogumo

So Patrick smashed the stone head with a hammer

They made him gruesome,
his own severed head in hand,
and they named him Crom Dubh, the dark,
twisted one, and they gave him a horse.

He was once just a head, Crom Cruach,
(they revered heads in those days) and a god.
In those days, a god reflected what is,
a god was not a magician who made wishes come true,
if only we were good enough, prayed enough,
paid our dues to the regulators.

A god was what is, the night, the day, thunder
and the sun, rain and plenty, floods and famine.
A god was, because what is, is.

To respect what is, is subversive.
Who knows where it might lead.
We might cease to believe that we are responsible
for holding the cables that anchor the world.
That without our sacrifice and obedience,
the world will drift into chaos.

We might lift our deferential, fearful eyes
from the ground, and we would see the stars.

The ancients knew, that what is, is. We are.
We can only watch in awe, and nothing we can do or say
will change the turning of the seasons or the sickness,
let the child live or stop the body’s aging.

Unless, of course, we know of magic well water,
Or have the ear of a wise salmon.

-Jane Dougherty

The Basel Cockatrice, 1474

From a rooster’s body I was laid
incubated by a toad, confused
from birth, “how was I made?”

My featherless wings of soft skin
disgust my feathered kin: I am not them,
but my wattled head revolts batty things.
“How can I grow? How can I change?”

I was tried; my lawyer defended but the court ruled
I couldn’t be. In Kohlenberg they lit
a fire and—whatever I was—I died.

Now memorial fountains of the mis-born cockatrice
pepper the city; if you’re burning — there’s water there.

-Dave Garbutt

Headless horseman

a man killed in battle, a ghost
doomed to ride through foreign lands–

or a demon, a dark fairy, calling the name of those
about to die–
perhaps he is Death himself—

perhaps he rides, not only a horse, but a donkey, or camel,
or may travels on foot, or rumble on a motorcycle—

no need for a helmet–
he holds his head at his side,

if he summons you, ignore him, look away–
no one lives who sees his face.

-Merril D Smith


Dark Horse (F1.10 Dullahan)

Black against the ghoulish moon,
The horse looms, mid-stride, his bones
sodden with silvery sluice of fog
jagged and splintered.
His head – once proud-
is held stiff, resigned, eye blank.
Blind to all, he is fiercely unknowing,
gazing inward away from the breathing world.
Heedless of his headless rider.

Flinty hoof poised, he seems to pause
in delicate balance before he strikes the ground.
sparks flying. A flash of lightning.
He explodes into motion, ignited.
Galloping, pounding, racing at hellish speed
As though chased by the devil.

-Jacqueline Dempsey-Cohen

Bios and Links

-Jane Dougherty

lives and works in southwest France. A Pushcart Prize nominee, her poems and stories have been published in magazines and journals including Ogham Stone, the Ekphrastic Review, Black Bough Poetry, ink sweat and tears, Gleam, Nightingale & Sparrow, Green Ink and Brilliant Flash Fiction. She blogs at https://janedougherty.wordpress.com/ Her poetry chapbooks, thicker than water and birds and other feathers were published in October and November 2020.

-Eryn McConnell

is a poet originally from the UK who now lives in South Germany with their family. They have been writing poetry since their teens and is currently working on their second collection of poems.

-Spriha Kant

developed an interest in reading and writing poetries at a very tender age. Her poetry “The Seashell” was first published online in the “Imaginary Land Stories” on August 8, 2020, by Sunmeet Singh. She has been a part of Stuart Matthew’s anthology “Sing, Do the birds of Spring” in the fourth series of books from #InstantEternal poetry prompts. She has been featured in the Bob Dylan-inspired anthology “Hard Rain Poetry: Forever Dylan” by the founder and editor of the website “Fevers of the Mind Poetry and Art” David L O’ Nan. Her poetries have been published in the anthology “Bare Bones Writing Issue 1: Fevers of the Mind”. Paul Brookes has featured her poetry, “A Monstrous Shadow”, based on a photograph clicked by herself, as the “Seventh Synergy” in “SYNERGY: CALLING ALL WRITERS WHO ARE PHOTOGRAPHERS” on his blog “The Wombwell Rainbow”. She has been featured in the “Quick-9 interview” on feversofthemind.com by David L’O Nan. She has reviewed the poetry book “Silence From The Shadows” by Stuart Matthews. Her acrostic poetry “A Rainstorm” has been published in the Poetic Form Challenge on the blog “TheWombwell Rainbow” owned by Paul Brookes. She also joined the movement “World Suicide Prevention Day” by contributing her poetry “Giving Up The Smooch” on the blog “The Wombwell Rainbow”, an initiative taken by Paul Brookes.

-Gaynor Kane

from Belfast in Northern Ireland, had no idea that when she started a degree with the OU at forty it would be life changing.  It magically turned her into a writer and now she has a few collections of poetry published, all by The Hedgehog Poetry Press Recently, she has been a judge for The North Carolina Poetry Society and guest sub-editor for the inaugural issue of The Storms: A journal of prose, poetry and visual art. Her new chapbook, Eight Types of Love, was released in July. Follow her on Twitter @gaynorkane or read more at www.gaynorkane.com

-Dave Garbutt

has been writing poems since he was 17 and has still not learned to give up. His poems have been published in The Brown Envelope Anthology, and magazines (Horizon, Writers & Readers) most recently on XRcreative and forthcoming in the Deronda review. His poem ‘ripped’ was long listed in the Rialto Nature & Place competition 2021. In August 2021 he took part in the Postcard Poetry Festival and the chap book that came from that is available at the postcard festival website. https://ppf.cascadiapoeticslab.org/2021/11/08/dave-garbutt-interview/.

He was born less than a mile from where Keats lived in N London and sometimes describes himself as ‘a failed biologist, like Keats’, in the 70’s he moved to Reading until till moving to Switzerland (in 1994), where he still lives. He has found the time since the pandemic very productive as many workshops and groups opened up to non-locals as they moved to Zoom. 

Dave retired from the science and IT world in 2016 and he is active on Twitter, FaceBook, Medium.com, Flickr (he had a solo exhibition of his photographs in March 2017). He leads monthly bird walks around the Birs river in NW Switzerland. His tag is @DavGar51.

-Merril D. Smith

lives in southern New Jersey near the Delaware River. Her poetry has been published in several poetry journals and anthologies, including Black Bough Poetry, Anti-Heroin Chic,  Fevers of the Mind, and Nightingale and Sparrow. Her first full-length poetry collection, River Ghosts, is forthcoming from Nightingale & Sparrow Press.  Twitter: @merril_mds  Instagram: mdsmithnj  Website/blog: merrildsmith.com

-Jacqueline Dempsey-Cohen,

a retired teacher and children’s library specialist, considers herself an adventurer. She has meandered the country in an old Chevy van and flown along on midnight runs in a smoky old Convair 440 to deliver the Wall Street Journal. She is a licensed pilot, coffee house lingerer, and finds her inspiration and solace in nature in all its glorious diversity. Loving wife and mother, she makes her home in the wilds of Portland OR. www.MudAndInkPoetry.art 

-Kyla Houbolt’s

first two chapbooks, Dawn’s Fool (Ice Floe Press) and Tuned (CCCP Chapbooks), were published in 2020. Tuned is also available as an ebook. Her work has appeared in Hobart, Had, Barren, Juke Joint, Moist, Trouvaille Review, and elsewhere. Find her work at her linktree: https://linktr.ee/luaz_poet. She is on Twitter @luaz_poet.

#TheWombwellRainbow #PoeticFormChallenge #Alphabetpoem was last week’s chosen form. Robert Frede Kenter, Jane Dougherty, Tim Fellows, Jane Dougherty, Spriha Kant, Sheryl Lynch, and myself.

Alphabet Poetry with textA Night in Hamilton

Aberdeen Road did you hear the expectant screaming
Backwards a bulwark who was walking
Come one and all take up your measure
Drop into the park by the lake etch your names in the trees
Each shall say in turn for we come and we go

Frozen cold by microchip factories contaminated steelwork warehouses
Gated designs in wrought iron historical handwork of tobacco merchants’ artisans
Hallelujah above and below the forged chariots

I was walking along a subsidiary canal below tall buildings neon billboard
Jesus was there too smoking a cigarette
Kenter he shouted across the asphalt yards what you up to these days?
Last days end days new days arising new beginnings afoot

Mostly I am tending to my mother
Nothing much beyond that to speak of

O raise your voices in song raise them up
Perhaps we will reach the river shore yet
Questions abound did you know each one has a dance number hat check card place in line

Rest here a while in this declivity of finality
Soon soldiers will saunter in perform a jump blues off Heaven’s truck and check names
Take away those without proper documents lock up the witnesses
Universe still spinning above the night
Veritable as we rise so we rise higher

Wealthy men gather to cart off cut blocks of ice in speed boats full of power tools
X that which can be seen view it take photographs sample noise from the universe below

Young and old the timid and bold anxious for the stadium to open come the red horses
Zachariah appears cuts a swath of fire through flower gardens a mesmeric act one

How Did It Go?

A friend of mine wrote a fantastic alphabet poem about New York City – I started mine thinking of ‘place’; in this construction, Hamilton, Ont., a once vibrant, then languishing industrial city about 2 hours from Buffalo. I grew up there, downtown. For the first four years, I lived in a huge old Georgian mansion, transformed into apartments, where my father was super. We lived on the first floor. This ‘sense-memory’ and the idea of a city-alphabet poem inspired this ecclesiastic rumination through a night-walk for End times. It was fun to create an Alphabet, even a meandering one along the edges of industrial-post industrial poetics.

-Robert Frede Kenter

Bird alphabet

Any bird can dip-dance,
each fluttering glide-hop
imitates jay-jumping.

Irreverent kettledrum-clattering—
listen, music-murdering notes
overwhelm pastoral quiet,

querulous rooks, strident-voiced,
tune unmusical vulture-songs
with xenolythic-pitched yammering,
zephyr-winged arguers born.

Kitchen memories

Apples baking,
candied dumpling-effluves,
filled grandma’s house,
indecently-delicious, just-baked.

Kitchen-longing memories,
nutmegged, orange plumcake-quetsched
remain, summer-scented,
those unctuous voloutes,
wind-borne excelsiors,
yellow-winged, zebra-dappled.

Sailing to the isle of apples

Away we sail, where apples grow,
Bound to search the western isles.
Calm sea waits for those who dare
Defy the whales and monsters there.
Echoes ring from mountain sides,
Fairies hosting with us riding,
Gerfalcons tossed from their wrists,
High among the white clouds circling,
Isle of apples, sharp eyes seeking.
Listen to the hoofbeats splashing,
Manannán’s white-maned horses racing,
Night will find us out at sea.
Owl-wings left behind us failing,
Pale dawn comes to trackless waves,
Row hard until the wind comes filling
Sails, till seals come guiding home to
Tír na nÓg, the blessed isle,
Unfolding sky and stars of youth.

(Jane says:It just occurred to me, the rules don’t state which alphabet we have to use. This is one using the Irish alphabet of 18 letters.)

How did it go?

With difficulty. The constraint of beginning with a set letter can be worked around with some head-scratching, but the possibilities for X and Z are limited, to say the least. Easy to end up with a lot of Xeroxes and herds of zebras. If I were to write another one though, I’d try and find a way of fitting Xerxes into it.

-Jane Dougherty

Maneuvers

Armies are out on maneuvers
Battlefield lines being drawn
Constantly under bombardment
Death and disease is the norm

Each soldier has their own home town
Families waiting for news
God gets his quota of prayers
Hoping there’s nothing to lose

In wishing for intervention
Just protection to bring them home
Kill or be killed is the mantra
Leaves scars running deep to the bone

Moved like pawns on a chessboard
Nudged forward one space at a time
Or sacrificed one for another
Pretending it isn’t a crime.

Queens and Kings, bishops and castles
Rulers might finally fall
Simply replaced by another
That wishes revenge for them all

Until more young soldiers are ready
Victory lies the refrain
When hatred gets the blood flowing
Xenophobia wins once again.

Youth watches its blood leak away
Zealots thrive while families pray.

How Did It Go?

The X is always the challenge. I put it off until I’d got past half way. I never thought I’d say this, but thank goodness for Xenophobia. I’ve used the U.S. spelling of maneuvers as it looks cleaner, no other reason.

-Tim Fellows

HOW I STARTED

Anyhow, I don’t tend to write long poems
Because I started out stealing moments
Closeted in my room
Determined to give voice to
Emotions I’d otherwise have to stuff with
Food I’d snuck, being called
Greedy when I was found out.
Heavy with depression
I would scrawl my feelings
Just short of plumbing their depths
Keeping secrets even from myself
Like how much I missed you
Ma, and how you used to be.
No, we didn’t know the extent
Of what you went through
Perhaps because you talked around it
Questions remained unanswered
Resentments festered
Stung with words and hands
Tears were withheld
Unacknowledged pain.
Vicarious living through offspring
Would not be my fate
Xenophobic I wasn’t
Yearning to broaden my horizons,
Zealous in pursuit of freedom, I write.

-Sheryl Singleton Lynch (09/27/22)

I AM AN INDEPENDENT HAPPY SINGLE WOMAN:

Accepting the truth our relationship has crumbled
Because remaining stuck in the past doesn’t work practically
Continuing my life afresh
Doing paintings and calligraphy
Emerging as an emotionally independent single woman
Fiercely facing all the blowing gusts individually
Guttering tears have stopped flowing from my eyes now
Hollowed hopes are now pitter-pattering with desirous raindrops
Including a to-do list in my target column
Joys are smooching me now
Keeping away all the things possessing our moments together
Loving myself
Moving on toward that point where the distance between us is of leap years
No need for any love in my life anymore
Organizing all the cluttered books in my library
Praising all the good poetries of others by myself with a cup of coffee
Quitting unnecessary mental stresses
Revamping my looks, old poetries, and interior of my home
Singing my favorite songs in synchronization with my dancing heart
Teeing off my everyday smilingly
Upping euphoria and enthusiasm in my psyche
“Vivacious woman” —my tag now
Wackiness in a wizened stage is a blessing
Xeric life replaced by blossomed life
Yonder orchestra of nightingales performing my cheerful life’s song
Zippiness flowing in my life like blood in my veins

How Did it go?

I have never tried an alphabetic poem before Paul Brookes challenged all the writers to try their hands at an Alphabetic poem. So, I just wrote all the letters from A to Z in a vertically downward position with a theme in my mind as a divorced woman becoming a happy independent single woman and just went with the flow of whatever came into my heart, and the piece got finished instantly in one take.

©Spriha Kant

Bios And Links

-Robert Frede Kenter

is a writer, editor, visual artist & the publisher of Ice Floe Press. Work recently in journals incl: CutbowQ, Streetcake Magazine, Feral, WatchYrHead, Anthropocene, FeversOf, Anti-Heroin-Chic. Work appears in The Book of Penteract, an Anthology (Penteract Press, 2022), The Poets of 2020 (FeversOf Press), Pandemic Love and Other Affinities, an Anthology (Ice Floe Press). Their most recent book is EDEN (2021), a hybrid now available at Rare Swan Press.

-Jane Dougherty

lives and works in southwest France. A Pushcart Prize nominee, her poems and stories have been published in magazines and journals including Ogham Stone, the Ekphrastic Review, Black Bough Poetry, ink sweat and tears, Gleam, Nightingale & Sparrow, Green Ink and Brilliant Flash Fiction. She blogs at https://janedougherty.wordpress.com/ Her poetry chapbooks, thicker than water and birds and other feathers were published in October and November 2020.

-Spriha Kant

developed an interest in reading and writing poetries at a very tender age. Her poetry “The Seashell” was first published online in the “Imaginary Land Stories” on August 8, 2020, by Sunmeet Singh. She has been a part of Stuart Matthew’s anthologies “Sing, Do the birds of Spring” and “A Whisper Of Your Love” in the fourth and fifth series of the books from #InstantEternal poetry prompts. She has been featured in the Bob Dylan-inspired anthology “Hard Rain Poetry: Forever Dylan” by the founder and editor of the website “Fevers of the Mind Poetry and Art” David L O’ Nan. Her poetries have been published in the anthology “Bare Bones Writing Issue 1: Fevers of the Mind”. Paul Brookes has featured her poetry, “A Monstrous Shadow” as the “Seventh Synergy” in “SYNERGY: CALLING ALL WRITERS WHO ARE PHOTOGRAPHERS” on his blog “Wombwell Rainbow”. She has been featured in the “Quick-9 interview” on feversofthemind.com by David L’O Nan. Her acrostic poetry “A Rainstorm” has been featured in the Poetic Form Challenge on the blog “Wombwell Rainbow” owned by Paul Brookes. She also joined the movement “World Suicide Prevention Day” by contributing her poetry “Giving Up The Smooch” on the blog “Wombwell Rainbow”, an initiative taken by Paul Brookes. She celebrated National Poetry Day by contributing her poetry “Travel in the Laps of Nature” to the blog “Wombwell Rainbow”. She has reviewed the poetry books “Silence From The Shadows” by Stuart Matthews and “Spaces” by Clive Gresswell.

-Tim Fellows

is a writer from Chesterfield in Derbyshire whose ideas are heavily influenced by his background in the local coalfields, where industry and nature lived side by side. His first pamphlet “Heritage” was published in 2019. His poetic influences range from Blake to Owen, Causley to Cooper-Clarke and more recently the idea of imagistic poetry and the work of Spanish poet Miguel Hernandez.

-Sheryl Singleton Lynch

is a poet and essayist who lives in New York City.  Her work has appeared in several journals, as well as in seven self-published collections available through Amazon, the latest, Folks and The Adventures of Lovemore Fearless (In No Particular Order) were released Summer 2022. In a previous life Sheryl worked as a telecommunications specialist and still shows signs of being a “nerdy girl.” Visit her website at sherylsingletonlynch.weebly.com.

Folktober Challenge, Day 9

merrildsmith's avatarYesterday and today: Merril's historical musings

Inspired by F2.9, Ossaert and f3.9 Aka Manto

Demons, Dogs, and Men

We fear the unknown,
rush to fill vacuums
with chaotic conceptions,
premonitions presented as truth.

We imagine the possibilities
as soothing and sublime
or shocking and scary,

and, in guilt and complicity
we spawn devils and demons

who find us in the woods, in an alley, or
in a public restroom,
cautionary tales for our children, for women,
for the downtrodden,
do not seek more–

and for the powerful, fear–
the hobbled beast bites when it can,
so, beware–

and yet—

the whipped dog’s spirit who seeks revenge,
ignores the majesty of canine magnanimity
and makes them as petty as humans,
who reduce even gods to vengeful, jealous creatures.

Paul Brookes is hosting a month-long ekphrastic challenge using folklore images to celebrate the launch of his new poetry collection, “As Folktaleteller.” You can see the images here and…

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Poetry Form: Dizain

Grace's avatardVerse

Hello everyone!  We have a guest host, Rosemary Nissen Wade, who will handle our next poetry form, Dizain.

Hello dVerse! Many thanks to Grace & dVerse team for the opportunity to share one of my favourite forms.

Though free verse is my usual preference and I turn to it naturally, I also love to play with form. These days the circumstances of my offline life mean I respond to poetry prompts much less often than I once did – but a form prompt will often get me. (Such as those offered here this year.)

Brief History

The dizain is a 10-line form which – like so many good ones – originated in France. It was popular there in the 15th and 16 Centuries, and has also been used by such famous English poets as John Keats and Philip Sidney.

Basic Structure

The basic rules for the dizain are that it…

View original post 705 more words

Folktober challenge day 9

Jane Dougherty's avatarJane Dougherty Writes

Paul is having technical problems today so he hasn’t been able to post today’s clutch of poems. I’ll post mine now and add the link later.

Heroes

They all look like you, Cuchulainn,
heroes all have the same handsome face,
your breadth and brawn,
the same thickness of skull, lightness of heart.

All are born sword in hand, each one
draws his first blood before he speaks his first words,
then speaks only to defy and demand his due.

They have memories rich in every slight
over nine generations of forefathers,
but they cannot remember their children’s names,
their number, nor their mother’s faces.

The have tactics not principles,
their hands are for murder not love.

They fight for an insult, a misheard word,
an unlucky omen, a woman’s bright eyes,
a seer’s garbled prophecy. Their honour
more important than a child’s tears.

Never a one fights for a cause,

View original post 31 more words

#folktober #ekphrasticchallenge. Day Nine. To celebrate the launch of my new poetry collection “As Folktaleteller” I am downloading 93 folklore art images, 3 per day in October and asking writers to write poetry or a short prose inspired by one, two or all three images. Please join Kirsten Irving, Gaynor Kane, Ankh Spice, Jane Dougherty, Kyla Houbolt, Jessica Whipple, Jacqueline Dempsey-Cohen, Chris Husband, Eryn McConnell, Dave Garbutt, Merril Smith and I, plus those who react to the images on the day, as we explore images from folktales.

F 1.9 Cuchulainn

F 1.9 Cuchulainn

F 2.9. Ossaert

F 2.9. Ossaert

F 3.9 40px-Aka Manto

F 3.9 40px-Aka Manto

this is not about bathrooms
(Aka Manto)

two options and each a kind
of dying. be born coiled
scarlet, roled for blue,
or not at all. nothing pours
from the cup of one hand
into the other. nothing useful
is mislabelled by the factory.
the spectre of this has come
to stalk our children. the spectre
of this bites space from their
everydays. the spectre hides
its many faces behind masks
that feign human.
each word it maggots free
worms in its own clean disguise.
the spectre grows bolder
in its robes each time a world
permits the split.
this is the last place
to accept a haunting.
behind the mask lies
nothing new – the bitter wither
of a thing whose time is done.
what fears the fall, it trips
the rising. I will sharpen
this poem until it cuts the air
a monster must move through.
heartless. that’s
a deliberate choice.

-Ankh Spice – 9/10/22

My Friend’s Tragic End:

(Inspired by the Image “F 3.9 Aka Manto”)

Her shriek
from that last stall of the loo
was her last call
that
still reverberates in my psyche.
The glimpses of her flayed body
drenched in her blood
on that last stall’s floor of the loo
still trembles my nerves.
Who is he who did this to my friend?
Some say he was Aka Manto.
Some say he was Red Cape.
Some say he was Red Vest.
Some say he was Akai-Kami-Aoi-Kami.
Some say he was Aoi Manto.
People describe him
“a masked spirit in a red cloak
haunting
public and school toilets”
I burn like a plank of wood in a fire when
people blame her
for choosing the ‘red paper’ option
offered by him.
How many more slaughters will he do
for filling his ravenous-psychopath intents?

-©Spriha Kant

According to legend, individuals using a toilet in such bathrooms may be asked by Aka Manto to choose between red paper or blue paper (in some versions, the options will be red or blue cloaks, rather than paper). Choosing the “red” option results in fatal lacerations or flaying, while choosing the “blue” option results in strangulation or all of the individual’s blood being drained from their body. Picking a colour which has not been offered leads to the individual being dragged to an underworld or hell, and in some accounts, choosing “yellow” results in the person’s head being pushed into the toilet. Ignoring the spirit, rejecting both options offered by the spirit, escaping the bathroom, or a combination of the aforementioned methods are said to result in the individual’s survival. (From Wikipedia)

 

Heroes (inspired by F1:9.)

They all look like you, Cuchulainn,
heroes all have the same handsome face,
your breadth and brawn,
the same thickness of skull, lightness of heart.

All are born sword in hand, each one
draws his first blood before he can talk,
talks only to defy and demand his due.

They have memories rich in every slight
in nine generations of forefathers,
but they cannot remember their children’s names,
their number, nor their mother’s faces.

The have tactics not principles,
their hands are for murder not love.

They fight for honour, a misheard word,
an unlucky omen, a woman’s bright eyes,
a seer’s garbled prophecy.

Never a one fights for a cause,
because it is just, because it is lost,
because he can do no less.

Perhaps that is why, Cuchulainn,
you will always be more credible
than any big screen super hero.

-Jane Dougherty

Aka Manto asks us at COP27

Are we in the last stall
of the toilets
knowing when we come out
the world is gone?

[yes]

There is a tapping on the door,
“Who calls?”

“You must chose!
there is no toilet roll! You are trapped,

Choose the blue toilet roll of unending growth no taxes
or
the red toilet roll of strikes and fair sharing of unending growth,
of heaven on earth”

Run! Run!
Don’t mind you dirty bum—
live and choose the world and sanity
let’s end oil, fertilisers, pesticides
and take all our power from the sun.

-Dave Garbutt

Demons, Dogs, and Men (Inspired by F2.9, Ossaert and f3.9 Aka Manto)

We fear the unknown,
rush to fill vacuums
with chaotic conceptions,
premonitions presented as truth.

We imagine the possibilities
as soothing and sublime
or shocking and scary,

and, in guilt and complicity
we spawn devils and demons

who find us in the woods, in an alley, or
in a public restroom,
cautionary tales for our children, for women,
for the downtrodden,
do not seek more–

and for the powerful, fear–
the hobbled beast bites when it can,
so, beware–

and yet—

the whipped dog’s spirit who seeks revenge,
ignores the majesty of canine magnanimity
and makes them as petty as humans,
who reduce even gods to vengeful, jealous creatures.

-Merril D. Smith

9. The Red or The Blue

Let’s be friends in here. Real friends.
Polite, please; unlike you I did not choose my vocation.
And you did not choose to have so many choices.
so young: the chips or the salad, to mock or cut free,
to push back or wave like a weed. Not here, though.
A speechless room, prayer in private: a place
where your balance may slip as you sit
and you shit and smell vinegar; wonder if your friends
are friends or soulsuckers, if you are the new queen
or a filth-licker. Here in the sacred space
of the cubicle, door locked to danger, you exhale alone.
But there is one more question, and I really must press you.

-Kirsten Irving

An Infestation of Fear (F3.9 Aka Manto)

They lurk in shadow and unspoken thought
Twisting entrails, eviscerating all reason.
They own the dark – the space
between breath and sighs,
clouding visions of uncertain eyes.

Monsters –
ubiquitous, iniquitous, a legion of demons
a mystery of spooks, a rumpus of phantoms,
penumbra of spirits, congress of ghosts, a rustle of reapers –
Breathing breeding creeping and crouching
in corners, attics, nightmares and dreams.
Skulking in livers and lungs and stomachs
infesting our blood, and filling our spleens.

So we avoid the shadow, seek sunshine and sky
Cloaking our fears in mantles of light.
We gather in places sequestered and calm
Quiet, secure, well-lit and locked tight

Yet even safe havens will not stop them all
A gentleman spirit, masked and enrobed,
Committed murder most foul
in this small bathroom stall.

-Jacqueline Dempsey-Cohen @boscoedempsey

Bios and Links

-Jane Dougherty

lives and works in southwest France. A Pushcart Prize nominee, her poems and stories have been published in magazines and journals including Ogham Stone, the Ekphrastic Review, Black Bough Poetry, ink sweat and tears, Gleam, Nightingale & Sparrow, Green Ink and Brilliant Flash Fiction. She blogs at https://janedougherty.wordpress.com/ Her poetry chapbooks, thicker than water and birds and other feathers were published in October and November 2020.

-Eryn McConnell

is a poet originally from the UK who now lives in South Germany with their family. They have been writing poetry since their teens and is currently working on their second collection of poems.

-Spriha Kant

developed an interest in reading and writing poetries at a very tender age. Her poetry “The Seashell” was first published online in the “Imaginary Land Stories” on August 8, 2020, by Sunmeet Singh. She has been a part of Stuart Matthew’s anthology “Sing, Do the birds of Spring” in the fourth series of books from #InstantEternal poetry prompts. She has been featured in the Bob Dylan-inspired anthology “Hard Rain Poetry: Forever Dylan” by the founder and editor of the website “Fevers of the Mind Poetry and Art” David L O’ Nan. Her poetries have been published in the anthology “Bare Bones Writing Issue 1: Fevers of the Mind”. Paul Brookes has featured her poetry, “A Monstrous Shadow”, based on a photograph clicked by herself, as the “Seventh Synergy” in “SYNERGY: CALLING ALL WRITERS WHO ARE PHOTOGRAPHERS” on his blog “The Wombwell Rainbow”. She has been featured in the “Quick-9 interview” on feversofthemind.com by David L’O Nan. She has reviewed the poetry book “Silence From The Shadows” by Stuart Matthews. Her acrostic poetry “A Rainstorm” has been published in the Poetic Form Challenge on the blog “TheWombwell Rainbow” owned by Paul Brookes. She also joined the movement “World Suicide Prevention Day” by contributing her poetry “Giving Up The Smooch” on the blog “The Wombwell Rainbow”, an initiative taken by Paul Brookes.

-Gaynor Kane

from Belfast in Northern Ireland, had no idea that when she started a degree with the OU at forty it would be life changing.  It magically turned her into a writer and now she has a few collections of poetry published, all by The Hedgehog Poetry Press Recently, she has been a judge for The North Carolina Poetry Society and guest sub-editor for the inaugural issue of The Storms: A journal of prose, poetry and visual art. Her new chapbook, Eight Types of Love, was released in July. Follow her on Twitter @gaynorkane or read more at www.gaynorkane.com

-Dave Garbutt

has been writing poems since he was 17 and has still not learned to give up. His poems have been published in The Brown Envelope Anthology, and magazines (Horizon, Writers & Readers) most recently on XRcreative and forthcoming in the Deronda review. His poem ‘ripped’ was long listed in the Rialto Nature & Place competition 2021. In August 2021 he took part in the Postcard Poetry Festival and the chap book that came from that is available at the postcard festival website. https://ppf.cascadiapoeticslab.org/2021/11/08/dave-garbutt-interview/.

He was born less than a mile from where Keats lived in N London and sometimes describes himself as ‘a failed biologist, like Keats’, in the 70’s he moved to Reading until till moving to Switzerland (in 1994), where he still lives. He has found the time since the pandemic very productive as many workshops and groups opened up to non-locals as they moved to Zoom. 

Dave retired from the science and IT world in 2016 and he is active on Twitter, FaceBook, Medium.com, Flickr (he had a solo exhibition of his photographs in March 2017). He leads monthly bird walks around the Birs river in NW Switzerland. His tag is @DavGar51.

-Merril D. Smith

lives in southern New Jersey near the Delaware River. Her poetry has been published in several poetry journals and anthologies, including Black Bough Poetry, Anti-Heroin Chic,  Fevers of the Mind, and Nightingale and Sparrow. Her first full-length poetry collection, River Ghosts, is forthcoming from Nightingale & Sparrow Press.  Twitter: @merril_mds  Instagram: mdsmithnj  Website/blog: merrildsmith.com

-Jacqueline Dempsey-Cohen,

a retired teacher and children’s library specialist, considers herself an adventurer. She has meandered the country in an old Chevy van and flown along on midnight runs in a smoky old Convair 440 to deliver the Wall Street Journal. She is a licensed pilot, coffee house lingerer, and finds her inspiration and solace in nature in all its glorious diversity. Loving wife and mother, she makes her home in the wilds of Portland OR. www.MudAndInkPoetry.art 

-Kyla Houbolt’s

first two chapbooks, Dawn’s Fool (Ice Floe Press) and Tuned (CCCP Chapbooks), were published in 2020. Tuned is also available as an ebook. Her work has appeared in Hobart, Had, Barren, Juke Joint, Moist, Trouvaille Review, and elsewhere. Find her work at her linktree: https://linktr.ee/luaz_poet. She is on Twitter @luaz_poet.