PWoF 2016 - Topic 05 - Sept. 26

[rayheinrich]

         PWoF 2016 - Topic 05 - Sept. 26
         
        Standard instructions:
       

         You should attempt to write a poem inspired by this topic -- not a derivative, literal
         interpretation of the topic.   Create a poem that reflects your own true self.
         
         --> Since the officious rules of PWoF 2016 stipulate that you can submit more than
         one poem; may I suggest, if the fit strikes you, that you include, after your major work,
         a second poem consisting of a bit of transient doggerel, a limerick, or a trenchant
         end-rhyming nonsense poem that somehow reflects the intention of this topic.
         
         (And for anyone who's a bit uncertain about starting out here: Ignore my bullshite and
         just string some words together (that's what everybody else is doing ).  
       

        Topic 5:
       

Write an ekphrastic poem: A poem about or directly addressing an image;
a narration about,  an expansion of,  a reflection upon its meaning to you.

It should be specific:  
If it were placed beneath the image, the two would seem closely connected.

Posting multiple poems about the same photograph or a different one,
at the same time or later is ok, even encouraged.

--> The number of the photograph should be placed somewhere above or below your poem.

Use one of these six photographs:

    1

               
    1

    2

               
    2

    3

               
    3

    4

               
    4

    5

               
    5

    6

               
    6

Credits: 1: Jack Delano     2: Steve Meltzer     3: Matt Eich     4: Sally Mann     5: anon     6: anon

[just mercedes]

#1


No I’m not going to smile. Why
pretend? They look great, happy
enough, clean clothes and all.

I used to be a snappy dresser.
Last time I bought new clothes?
Wedding suit, five years ago.

The one she’ll bury me in.
A kid a year so far. The shine
keeps me going, always

a brew for our anniversary
and before I know it we’ve
made another kid.

I don’t even get time to dust
my clothes off, brush my hair.

[RiverNotch]

#4

Outgrown

Here's me at '32 -- notice
the sky's so white, it seems to bleed
neatly into the finished image

of me. What made me such a worthy
doll to be carried, prize to be
collected then, that I have lost?

How many folks no longer come
to take my picture now, even though
I still glow like my mother was

a god? My guess: they only cared
when I was bound to that old shadow,
that grummy California Okie

whose dustbowl world I left behind
when that potential for desire
smoldering then in my gray eyes

became a fire -- as if contrast,
clair-obscur, has that same all-
consuming power to inspire....

[kolemath]

#5

Sarge said I could bring one thing from home.
Since I carry the rocket launcher and blow more faces off the map than my gunner buddies,
I brought my guitar.
I hear their screams over my shoulder.
My gunner buddies laugh when I look back.
I sing over corpses in the barrack moments of boredom.
I break the silence.
That's some kind of burial.
My gunner buddies think I singing about home.
I sang to my sweet-heart back home that I'd come back home.
She gave me her ring to wear, so I can remember.
I can't go back there.

---

#2

Little white girl in cardboard for a moment.
Public outcry for a new deal on life.

Non-white cries muffled by the cardboard.
No pictures eulogize.

[dukealien]

#3

Delilah 3, Samson 1


I (Left)

She stands with gilded innocence
curiosity personified, locks
newly shorn, short, short
shirtless trying to conform
to the photographer’ shouted
admonition not to suck
her thumb.  It would make
her attraction for pedophiles
too obvious.

II (Seated)

Shorn to a burr but bearded still
shoeless, naked to the waist
grimly concentrated, waiting
waiting for the day his patriarchal
hair will grow back
and the iPhone in his pocket chime
with news it’s time
to pull down this temple
of three goddesses.

III (Barber)

It’s hot
the weather
and the clipper in her hand
- can’t find work, can’t afford barbers -
on its long and worrisome extension cord what if
Delilah posing in the garden shed
where they’re living tripped
over it and spoiled her looks
they’re all she’s got
she’s all they’ve got
when will the letter
from the agent come
will it find them
here at cousin’s
back yard in
his shed?
It’s hot

IV (Hipshot)

OK, there’s the camera.
Pose one.
Pose two.
Runway walk.
Pose three
the thing with the mouth.
Pose four
all the way to the left
right heel up, knee straight forward
- oh damn, stockings getting loose -
serious thing with the mouth
Hey, cameraman!  I’m over here!

[Quixilated]

#5
minstrel boy

He traded his gun for an old guitar
(he knew he couldn’t kill)
they forced him to march in the one by one
to submit to the officers' will
and he swallowed his protest and stayed in line
answered the call, did the drill
but on the red day when the blood ran down
when the bullets flew fast and shrill
he stood his ground and played a tune
defiantly peacefully still
so he died in the fray with his old guitar
a song for his girl in his will

[just mercedes]

RiverNotch, kolemath, dukealien, Q - good reads here! Keep 'em coming - this is hump day, downhill from now!~

[dukealien]

#5
minstrel boy

He traded his gun for an old guitar
(he knew he couldn’t kill)
they forced him to march in the one by one
to submit to the officers' will
and he swallowed his protest and stayed in line
answered the call, did the drill
but on the red day when the blood ran down
when the bullets flew fast and shrill
he stood his ground and played a tune
defiantly peacefully still
so he died in the fray with his old guitar
a song for his girl in his will

Catchy beat - reminiscent of Kipling or Robert Service who wrote of such matters, likewise in the way of the time

"He traded his gun for an old guitar!"
said Files-on-Parade...

...and don't you strum at a Afghan
when none of your friends is near.

also Billy Bob Thornton's Davy Crockett fiddling a descant to El Deguello.

In all honesty, I think #5 was Photoshopped (or, in the earlier optical mode, Photoplayed).  The eightball black helmet with no cover and rolled-down sleeves don't fit with the rest of the picture; hands and head are a bit out of scale.  Also, Eightball has an M-79 slung on his back... but the guitar strap ends short of his shoulder.  Very fine paste-up work, though, and perfect image as a seed for inspiration.

[Lizzie]

#4.

Light tells me where you came from -- I hope
you're not going back there soon. I hope
you survive the ride
in the truck with no carseat. I hope
you stay plump and clean of the dirt
that's all around you.

Is that a kind man
holding you?
It's hard to tell
good people from bad --
they look the same
in the right light.

[QDeathstar]

#4

Newly Homeless

Padlock for my door to save
my radio. It's stock - nothing special.

Spent eight dollars to protect five
worth of gas. Can only buy it on Tuesday.

Got nothing but empty hands and hope
as shelter. And she's my only daughter.

[cvanshelton]

Picture #1

A Good Father

In today’s cold he was layered in yesterdays
threads, a little fuzzed, a little smeared, getting tight.
But, his Charles touts a new coat, and his lovely
Mary a fetching dress – little Eva,
a plaid jumper she can grow into. The baby
wears memories too, he will grow out of them,
leave them for the next one.

He sweeps his thoughts together,
of how he was going to climb
the world – buy the bank,
be a force unconquerable
and pulls them into a little dustpan.
and out they go.

He feeds contentment, and it sooths
worry – no lines on his face.
As the table leans into him he
turns his head as smiles bubble
behind him – Dad is home, and that
is Gladness for the family of a
Good Father.

[RiverNotch]

#4.

Light tells me where you came from -- I hope
you're not going back there soon. I hope
you survive the ride
in the truck with no carseat. I hope
you stay plump and clean of the dirt
that's all around you.

Is that a kind man
holding you?
It's hard to tell
good people from bad --
they look the same
in the right light.

Or rather, in its absence. That was the thought I first went for writing for that image, but eventually I gave up, I wanted so much to do meter. Glad to see someone got into that.

---

Still waiting on the inevitable #6 haiku, though (or maybe tanka?)

[just mercedes]

#1 again

[Dear Ma]


Thank you for the clothes, and reminder
to send you an anniversary photo. Kids
grow so quick, don’t they? God willing

there’ll be another baby in next year’s
picture; he carries like a boy.
I still won’t be twenty by then.

He mostly worked hard on the farm
last year but we lost crops to early frost
and had to kill off good breeding stock

for want of winter feed. He seemed to
give up for a while, except for ‘shine, until
he had to take a job driving carts at the mine.

He came home late, wouldn’t spruce up before
the photographer arrived. But he’s fine, really.

[shemthepenman]

6.

The Expanding Vacuum Jumps


There's a menstruating post box, look!
It's making small talk with the ground.
—Don't do that.

[RiverNotch]

6.

The Expanding Vacuum Jumps


There's a menstruating post box, look!
It's making small talk with the ground.
—Don't do that.

Thank you.

---

That double down from mercedes is amazing! A wonderful diptych, especially when taken together -- I could just imagine making a triptych, printing those two out, then setting the picture between.

[kolemath]

RiverNotch, kolemath, dukealien, Q - good reads here! Keep 'em coming - this is hump day, downhill from now!~

Yes, I! (Hopefully not in terms of quality). 

[Keith]

No.4
A man for all time

I remember those hands
blood knocked out of knuckles
engine oil deep in dark crevasses
of split dry finger tips.
They had a life he folded
in every crease, hard work
broke away with blister tops
seeping into aching joints.
Dove tailed down each grain
the strain of twisted metal
carried us cupped,
each inch, each foot
every step measured and cut.
Hands to hide under
to swing from,
to turn and run from
A sting from a slap
the twirl of a scratched gold ring
cradled in his lap.
They built our worlds
and never asked for anything back.