JOURNEY INTO ELDERHOOD: It's a journey with many stops along the way and enriched by the people I meet. So, stop in and visit. You're welcome...
Showing posts with label erasure poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label erasure poetry. Show all posts
02 December 2012
Long Partnerships - Erasure Poetry
From: The Last Gift of Time by Carolyn G. Heilbrun
Long partnerships are rare, endow
inhabitants with equilibrium
otherwise unknown.
A woman, her spouse
cherished, endured.
This moment, at last, overshadows
resentments, betrayals, boredom,
disallows a sin of omission to serve
as mental magnet.
Memory and anger recede,
dissipate. Life in the moment
no longer expects what will never occur,
expects neither more nor less
than who he is.
Marrieds of many decades earn,
as reward, mutual mellowness,
find life good.
This was actually sparked by Mary's prompt on Friday: Connection over at Imaginary Gardens With Real Toads and a continuation of Anna's Erasure Poetry from dVerse Poets Pub. Their current prompt is from Stuart: Missing You. Since I have the good fortune to be in a marriage of 39 years with my Honey, I erased all of the last chapter in The Last Gift of Time except the above as a hymn of praise to long relationships. And on the theme of missing, it expresses why I miss my Honey when he's away.
30 November 2012
Erasure Poetry- The Hawkesbury
It was a sweet thing of a still morning,
river-oaks whispering, white birds
roosting in the trees like so much washing.
The land stood upside down in dimply green water,
a shiny morning, the river with a brush of wind
that sent handfuls of sparkles across the water.
Boats sliding up fast if tide was with them
to the reedy place where the First Branch
wound down among the hills.
That country was full of overhangs
where soft yellow rock big enough
to stand in were full of light the color of honey.
You could sit there and watch the breeze
shivering through the leaves, the river beyond
a band of color like a muscle.
When you sit in the rock the bush sounds
come to you sharper, like a big ear, listening.
The birds were company enough.
Taken from the book I just finished reading, Sarah Thornhill, by Kate Grenville by erasing all but the above from the first chapter and rearranging the order. It's a harshly beautiful book that often reads like poetry of a girl coming of age in Australia. This Erasure Poetry, a form of found poetry, is a prompt from Anna at dVerse Poets Pub for Meeting the Bar. She lists some fascinating examples so check it out.
river-oaks whispering, white birds
roosting in the trees like so much washing.
The land stood upside down in dimply green water,
a shiny morning, the river with a brush of wind
that sent handfuls of sparkles across the water.
Boats sliding up fast if tide was with them
to the reedy place where the First Branch
wound down among the hills.
That country was full of overhangs
where soft yellow rock big enough
to stand in were full of light the color of honey.
You could sit there and watch the breeze
shivering through the leaves, the river beyond
a band of color like a muscle.
When you sit in the rock the bush sounds
come to you sharper, like a big ear, listening.
The birds were company enough.
Taken from the book I just finished reading, Sarah Thornhill, by Kate Grenville by erasing all but the above from the first chapter and rearranging the order. It's a harshly beautiful book that often reads like poetry of a girl coming of age in Australia. This Erasure Poetry, a form of found poetry, is a prompt from Anna at dVerse Poets Pub for Meeting the Bar. She lists some fascinating examples so check it out.
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