Poetry Train Monday - 161 - The Snags of Life

Having spent wonderful hours in the yard this weekend, and looking forward to more on my time off this week, here's a Loop Poem inspired by my garden.

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The Snags of Life

Standing in the garden
Garden opened wide
Wide enough for all
All to step inside

Treasures peek from corners
Corners beckon sweetly
Sweetly spiced and tempting
Tempting me completely

Shadows cool and knowing
Knowing boughs that wave
Waves of color flicked by breezes
Breezes gather seeds to save

Garden beckons, gathers
Gathers butterfly and bird
Bird takes refuge here
Here the snags of life are cured

© Julia Smith, 2010

Poetry Train Monday - 148 - American sentence 6

Just got back from the first of three intense evenings of choral singing:

Sunday evening rehearsal, the first with Nova Sinfonia and our guest conductor, Dr. Mark Shapiro, from New York.


Monday evening dress rehearsal

Tuesday evening - concert!











I confess I was a bit nervous all day, knowing that he would make us work hard. We're a combined choir of amateur singers ( my choir, Dartmouth Choral Society and the Chebucto Singers) and he's used to professional singers.

However, he turned out to be extremely forgiving, yet at the same time took hold of us and yanked us up to stand tall and let loose our inner divas.

For today's stop on the Poetry Train, I give you this American sentence:



First violinist introduced conductor to director - old charm.



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For any of you in the Halifax area, my concert is on:


Tuesday, April 20th
St. Matthew's Church
1479 Barrington St., Halifax, Nova Scotia
7:30 pm

The concert program:

Schubert's Mass No. 2 in G major
Vaughan Williams' Antiphon from Five Mystical Songs
Schubert's Symphony No. 9 in C major

Tickets are:

$15 adults
$10 seniors
$5 students

Poetry Train Monday - 147 - Something Which He Knew and Which I Did Not

This poem began as a writing exercise from this afternoon's workshop, given by Renee Field.



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Something Which He Knew and Which I Did Not


I stood in the great hall
In my best doublet
My doublet stiff and musty

Sweat collected along my brow
A draft blew the tapestry behind me

I stood in the great hall
My feet both heavy as stone
Well drilled in court dances

Roland and Stuart entered
My relief loosened a loud guffaw

In the great hall, those around me
Stopped their conversations
Stopped to stare at me

I hurried to join my friends
I wiped the sweat upon one brow

In the great hall, Stuart's voice broke
It broke as he said, "There you are, old man."
Roland grabbed my arm, dragging me

Out of earshot
"We've news."

I stood in the great hall
As Stuart said, "She's here,"
"She?" I said

My heart stuck in my throat
Roland nodded toward the end of the hall

I stood in the great hall
As Roland said, "Yes
And he is also here."

Something told me not to look
Just then

In the great hall, I stood there
A glance and
I locked gazes with Guilford

Why don't I ever listen
when something tells me not to look?

I stood in the great hall
And Guilford smirked over something
Which he knew and which I did not

- Julia Smith, Apr. 11, 2010

Poetry Train Monday - 146 - No Cure

Hard at work on the second draft of my vampire story, this long weekend. It's inspired this assessment of the affliction I suffer.


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No Cure


Story attacks like a virus
No cure except to write
First attempt inside out
Like the transported fly

Years of workshops
Tears of surrender
When it just won't make sense
When it won't leave you in peace

Light bulb moment
Only leads to dissection
Your story's scenes sliced bare
Moments amputated on the floor

Rebuilt version sent out
Fragile as spun sugar
The heart bruises
With every rejection

An offer is made
A contract is signed
Champagne cork popped
Dreams now stock on a shelf

Someone you've never met
Stays up all night
Reading your story in one gulp
As another story attacks you

- Julia Smith, Apr. 4, 2010

Poetry Train Monday - 145 - Make Me / Take This Tune - 1

For today's Poetry Train Monday, I'm taking a prompt from the Take This Tune meme, which posts on Friday's for a Monday meme. Take This Tune is hosted by Jamie from Durward Discussion and Fairweather from Fairweather's Red Mud Inn.









Here are the Take This Tune guidelines:

A video will be posted each Friday as a theme. Write anything you like based upon that video, the lyrics, or just a story that in some way ties in with the idea. You may use a written piece, photography, or poetry. Post your contribution on your blog the following Monday (the official day, but everybody cheats with any day of the following week) and link back here so that others can read what you have created. Have fun.

This week's prompt is Red Staggerwing by Mark Knopfler. Here are the lyrics I'm using for my prompt:

If I was a Fender guitar
A Fender painted red
You could play me, darlin'
Until your fingers bled

If I was one of them Gibsons
Like a '58 or '9
You could plug me in
And play me anytime

- Mark Knopfler


And now, my poem for both memes:














Make Me


No woman ever held me
The way I hold my guitar
No woman's curves fit into mine
The way my Dobro sighs

If only you could hold me
Coax the sighs from me like that
There's a song inside me yearning
For the right fingers
For the right pressure on my neck

Pick me up
Strum me
Coax me
Make me sigh
Make me sing

- Julia Smith, Mar. 28, 2010

Poetry Train Monday - 143 - American sentence 4

I've been working on two stories this weekend, my vampire story and my convict gardener story. Since one of the supporting characters has been on my mind a lot, here is an American sentence from his point of view.

Mr. Bent is a settler on Van Diemen's Land in the mid-1840's. When he hears that Robbie once worked as a gardener at an English country house, he takes Robbie off the road party to work as a convict laborer on his farm.

I always cast my characters, and Bent is based on English actor Ray Winstone.












Neck cloth soaks with sweat, but hides the scar from the iron one I once wore.



















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Poetry Train Monday - 142 - Delighting in Our Tribe

Another meeting of my writers' group this afternoon. Something I look forward to with both arms outstretched.

Thanks for a lovely lunch, thanks for the wisdom of craft, thanks for the example set, thanks for every laugh.

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Delighting in Our Tribe


Delighting in our tribe
We draw our strength from words
A kinship undescribed

Laughter peals, we imbibe
Conversations spun, heard
Delighting in our tribe

Affection slung with jibes
Guffaws at the absurd
A kinship undescribed

Rx so sweet prescribed
Embrace our inner nerd
Delighting in our tribe

Inhale creative vibe
Our dreams, here undeterred
A kinship undescribed

No one to circumscribe
Our muses stroked, chauffeured
Delighting in our tribe
A kinship undescribed

- Julia Smith, Mar. 7, 2010