Monday, March 07, 2011

On, In and Around Mondays: Encounters are Generative

LL and Brooke

We walked North, kept the river behind us, or to the left. We spent a brief evening eating tortillas, beans, rice, salsa. And we talked.

It was the last night of the Encounter conference, and we had... an encounter. I know that, because when you have an encounter, something is always born. Bonnie loves poetry and Brooke sings it.

So it only seemed natural that out of our encounter... some poetry was born...

One for the Boys

You shut the doors
on me,
turned knobs
against night,
against how I sang
our blue-plucked

Night Tune

to Bonnie and Brooke

Cry for me softly,
boys, open the doors
I'll sing of oaken trees

felled for a melodied
striptease of slatted floors
I'll sing of oaken trees

danced like Penelope
near thresholds of worlds
cry for me softly

sing back and echo me
as a river moves towards
I'll sing of oaken trees

girls strumming quietly
memories in minor chords
cry for me softly

hills upon lighted hills, or
faces past this old porch
will sing of my oaken trees,
cry for me softly.


On, In and Around Mondays (which partly means you can post any day and still add a link) is an invitation to write from where you are. Tell us what is on, in, around (over, under, near, by...) you. Feel free to write any which way... compose a tight poem or just ramble for a few paragraphs. But we should feel a sense of place. Would you like to try? Write something 'in place' and add your link below.

If you could kindly link back here when you post, it will create a central meeting place. :)

On In Around button

This post is also shared with Laura Boggess, for...

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Blogger sojourner said...

HAH! you posted this as i was posting a comment on the previous one! This left me wondering what is a "blue-plucked song" that you sang behind closed doors...and then the one that followed must be that song you sang when the doors were open

9:22 AM  
Blogger Laura said...

Oh, how I love when you return filled. Sometimes I think at time like these, poetry must hang from your coattails, words float around you in clouds.

It sounds like a lovely time.

9:48 AM  
Blogger Maureen said...

I can imagine Brooke setting "Night Tune" to music. What beautiful lines, especially "felled for a melodied /striptease of slatted floors" and "danced like Penelope/near the thresholds of worlds".

10:41 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

LL - I am so glad to begin hearing snips from Encounter 2011. Oh, to be there with singers and poets and dancers and potters. I can't wait to hear more.

And this poem? Exquisite.

11:46 AM  
Blogger Louise Gallagher said...

Yes! Tell us more.

and what Maureen said. Yup. Definitely.

2:10 PM  
Blogger Marcus Goodyear said...

You had me at villanelle.

2:26 PM  
Blogger Janis Van Keuren said...

I marvel at the creativity in your words and the imagery. Poetry is way beyond me. I can enjoy it but not write it. It takes a special spirit to craft the likes of what you have written.


1:06 AM  
Blogger Bonnie said...

I am sighing at your friendship.
Trees were like a fairyland when I landed in NC on Sunday night after a rainy day up there. There is such thing as a blessing. That is what you did here!

I thank you!

7:39 PM  

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