everywhere, the flowers of grief
in the darkness of eyelids
an unfurling leaf
the pale day-time moon
a newborn on the old man’s chest
a sapling in a pool of light
on the ancient earth under stars
the slow deep song of stone
a half-forgotten lightness of being
dreaming of ancient footprints
it’s not as if the sun or moon mentioned you
every footstep mutes a cricket
autumn wind disentangling thoughts
dry reeds shuffle moonlight
dark trees toss the cold end of day
this moment, this moment
Looking to create a single line of poetry, (or find one of my existing ones) to be the last line of a three line poem, the first two lines of which will be written by other people who also don’t know what the other lines will be.
These are some of the possibilities that I’m contemplating. But don’t they look great as a group? I keep rearranging them. If I’m not careful, they will become an actual fee verse poem. Just now they feel like a number of small poems, but I really only need one line.
I am preparing to produce an embroidery of the line as part of a collaborative exhibition, called Gardens of the Heart, a brainchild of India Flint. I’m not sure how many people are involved but lots and from all around the world.
The participants have been allocated a line (one, two or three) and are asked to embroider dots at the beginning of their line to denote that. Once they have all arrived they will be sewn together into three lines and each poem will be hung in space on clothes lines or some such (in March 2019, at the Lobethal Mill). Flowers will also be hung in the space.
Here is a link to the Facebook page. India is contemplating closing it soon, as the embroideries have to be posted by 22 December, but at the moment it’s still open to join in. And here is India’s website. Her work is wonderful in the full meaning of the word.
(The embroidery above is by my mum. At least that’s what she told me. My older sister said, ‘Surely not! She never showed the slightest interest in embroidery.’ I told her how I was forced to hand-stitch a pair of underpants (read bloomers) when I was at school while the boys did woodwork, something I am still sore about to this day. Perhaps this beautiful thing cured my mum of the desire to ever embroider again?)
I’d better decide on a line and get onto it! If you had to choose one of my lines above, which would it be?