Open to everyone, you were invited to write a poem about an alternative reality. Several bloggers rose to the challenge, all of whom deserve a mention, so consider yourselves mentioned! I really enjoyed reading the responses to the Quickie Writing Prompt and doing it to a deadline clearly focused minds 🙂
For those of you who did not see the prompt, it was published 10/06/2012 on this blog and can be found on the Home page with copies of the poems sent in or links to the blogs on which they appear – well worth a look.
OK, suspense over, in no particular order [as the best competition judges always say] here are my selected three with my reasons for selecting them.
Thanks again to everyone who joined in, all the submissions were wonderful to read, it was fun.
Footloose (Secret Life Of Shoes)
They start, sometime after half past midnight.
Just a tiny tap of a chisel-toe mule: the left one.
Inching out from under the bed. The subtle shuffle
of a tossed moccasin, slow-bumping percussion.
Slapping of a sling back. Pinging elastic ankle-strap.
Espadrilles doing doubles and boots beating a stomp.
Laces tie and tangle, tongues loosen, flap and mingle.
Buckles come undone. Soles rub with remembered
chafing, happy sweat of dancing and blisters pinched.
I love the personification of shoes in this poem, the alliteration and wordplay. I can feel that ‘tiny tap’ and see the ‘chisel-toe mule’ as it inches from under the bed. I enjoy the moccasin’s ‘slow-bumping percussion’ and the moves of the others as ‘tongues loosen’ – genius! Here, Holly’s created a superb alternative reality. The thought of footwear friends having a boogie in which causing blisters is celebrated tickles me pink!
Desire and Greed
There’s a maiden fair
With tendrils rare
Spun of gold with ribbons sheer.
Barefoot lass that traipse the glen
Minstrel bards and strong brave men
Follow her and drink her in, dreams of love
Dreams of men, to follow where the Harpie led.
I have a thing about faeries just now, so Jackie’s submission caught my eye as I found it evocative of woodlands and faerie folk. The language is beautiful, the line breaks effective, we see a gorgeous maid with glorious hair, a sort of siren of the forest drawing all to her – fantastic – awesomely alternative.
As I loll beneath a laughing willow
reading The Wit of Virginia Woolf,
sipping lemon juice from a
ceramic to-go cup…
I am struck by passersby who,
in the cool breeze of mid-August,
saunter to urgent meetings
when they should be hustling fast as sloths.
My blue hair is showing traces of
youth these days, bits of gold that
catch the noonday moonlight,
reflecting a crown-like glory.
Shall I stay on the lush red grass
or wander off past the former Starbucks
(now a café for overground art)
to catch the stagecoach back home?
Green sky at morning,
sailors take warning.
Grey sky at night,
Amy’s poem made me giggle and gasp, a delightful romp through alternatives or transpositions – a ‘laughing willow’, not a paper to-go cup but a ceramic one, not an ‘our world’ drink but lemon juice – heh-heh. Even literary allusion here! This fabulous world has red grass, aging blue hair going gold rather than grey, and people sauntering to urgent meetings heh-heh – just love it.
Thank you all again for entering – let me know if you’d like another prompt 🙂