Poetry Thursday: Redux

I thought this week's Poetry Thursday challenge was an awesome idea by Dana and Liz – thanks ladies! I’m sure I’m not the only one who is going to attempt to do this, but I couldn't resist and I hope this doesn't bore you. I basically collected a bunch of lines from the first forty or so posted and just let them run. They are actually in the order in which they were posted. I didn’t use every post, but of those used, they are in the exact order in which they were posted on Poetry Thursday.(Check if you doubt!) I found that together, the lines had a poetry all their own. Perhaps because each line was the progeny of everyone’s wonderful work, each had what it takes to stand together. Then again, maybe I’m crazy. I threw in some connectors and modifiers and changed a couple of “he”s to “she”s to maintain agreement, and tried to leave them untouched as much as possible. Here’s what they created when put together. I think this is a wonderful jambalaya of poetry. I’d expect to see several variations on this idea – it was just too tempting and I’m sure I’ll be in good company. All of your posts were amazing and I’m sorry if I didn’t use yours here. All were considered as of Tuesday afternoon when I wrote this.

I have to give a special thanks to Poet With A Day Job for posting the last line of this poem!!! Thank God for you girl! As for the rest of you, THANK YOU and see if you can spot your line!




Redux

And here in her land of dark she dies, dies, dies,
when the mean reds get meaner
She wants you to know her secrets
each, resting in a clean white bowl
They cut the same, you know
and are as real as any other death

Dreaming shadows into being
as if in a glass we poured our love
And though forgotten by gravity
other bodies tumble and fall over us
Heal around the edges of the wound
which you stab with your pen

One size is sad, she said
scouring paths of escape
She sways on the tide of the breeze
though they never told her not to go there
I am not innocent

Each of us floating to our deaths
look west to the men of stone
There is certain holiness in repetition
And thoughts of you keep sleep away
while the whole city leans back
And I can’t find God anywhere that I’m not

(I wish I could take credit for this!!) Dennis - 2007