Collaboration is invigorating, and when it comes to writing poetry, words from other sources at once challenge and enrich the process. Lesley-Anne has been experimenting with the collaboration potential of social media on her Pop-Up-Poetry Facebook Page. For the past couple of weeks, Lesley-Anne has posted Call Outs asking Facebook friends to post words or phrases as comments, but only for a short period of time before closing.
Lesley-Anne takes all their submitted words, allows them to percolate until a theme emerges, then braids her own words into a new creation of poetry. The outcomes have been phenomenal. Participants are excited about it. Lesley-Anne sees the synergy and awakening to a new way of fast collaborative creativity as a fun means to build artistic community and challenge her writing.
Lesley-Anne will be sharing some of her Flash Poems at Inspired Word Cafe, this Thursday at the Okanagan Regional Library Downtown Branch from 5:30 to 7:30pm.
Here is the latest… Flash Poem #5.
On the Death of Venus
Venus de Milo, her cultivated beauty
on last legs, the fruit of her service cut short.
She receives the blade, reaches way out
on a limb and plucks a feather captured
by a snarl of wood. Creaking and cracking
her limbs give way to the pull of fate.
Even the silence echos the laws of gravity.
Now the question of how to love without fingers
to trace the lip line of the sky, without arms
to swoon heavy in red and gold pendants
over parallel lanes of mown grass. Passing fancy
of passer’s by, supplier to fruit stand
and packing house, we avert our eyes
to such sacrificial progress, we buy American.
My mornings start with the same walk I take
from back door to fence and out to the orchard
that rims the property. There I meet myself
on the return and never speak more than
the simplest of hellos. I leave that to the field.
Salubrious morning, slowly sun-soaked
and ready for feet and the hamstrings of early day.
I kneel now beside her severed stump, drag home
a branch reminder of borrowed views, back gate
access to her heady Spring vibrations of bees
buried in blossoms, her Summer canopy a green
dewdrop heaven, September gleaning. Astonished
by the light in her eye apples in the dead of January
hanging where hope once had dimmed.
I knew a woman once, a first responder
who knelt by a torso and promised
in a calm voice that everything will be OK.
I know nothing of those type of endings.
I am speaking of things untold, things
I do not fully understand. I know nothing
of what came before and what will be, her
reckless ways, her necessary sacrifice.
Word Contributors: John Dorig, Lesley-Anne Evans, Gioia Morris, Vicki Den Ouden, Kelly Pond, Robert Rife, Giovanni Vidotto.
Potter Poet: Lesley-Anne Evans, Poet