poetry, Twitter poetry

Twitter Poetry: Fields of Red


102 365At our recent Twitter poetry party, the theme (in keeping with February) took on something of a red hue. The prompts were all taken from The Essential Neruda: Selected Poems by Pablo Neruda. Ten poets participated, and while they also went off the deep end at first with visions of Twinkies dancing in their heads, they soon reoriented themselves and got down to business. 

Here are the first four poems from a collection we’re calling “Fields of Red.” 

Fields of Red

By @llbarkat, @sethhaines, @chrisyokel, @lauraboggess, @mmerubies, @annkroeker, @meganwillome, @lwlindquist, @gmthul and @morningglorydlc. Edited by @gyoung9751.

The sunset plows the sky 

The sunset plows the sky
churning up the clouds in red
The sky strips itself to its last
wet violet
oh, child among the roses
oh, child among the oxen
oxen surging red
sky unfolding violet;
oxen, muzzled, do not plow
for roses. 

Flour dust on floorboards

Flour dust floats like clouds
across the rough surface
of the floorboards. 

Primrose sweet on the window sill,
perfuming the air, dead already,
entombed by glass,
my memorial;
primrose light white as flour dust.

I wore a purple dress
my hair was long and black
I danced before the prince
but he did not love me back.
Poppies caught in the purple dress. 

She hid the sweetness 

She hid the sweetness in the bottom
of the pan and then she baked a cake
and iced it thick with red frosting
licked her lips

Sitting on the counter
apron over knees she twinkled
as she sprinkled a honeycomb
of bees. 

Flowed the water,
flowed the wine.
With just one kiss
I made you mine. 

A petal cups these dewy drops
as you cup my heart.
Exclamations. Questions.
The poppies, like verbs,
clasp me to your life. 

Flowed the water,
flowed the wine.
With just one kiss
I made you mine. 

To the edge of sunrise 

Approach my soul
to the edge of sunrise,
in a shower of wet violets,
as children shimmer like roses.
His poetry warm and brims
like wine. Warms; brims;
each petal a measure of maybe.
On the ladder of the earth I climb
with an overflowing cup
to greet the rosy sunrise.

Photograph by Claire Burge. Used with permission. Post by Glynn Young, author of Dancing Priest: A Novel


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Your Comments

8 Comments so far

  1. L. L. Barkat says:

    Glynn! These just get better and better. :) I love how you made that italic refrain and repeated it. Just wonderful. Now you are a song writer too? ;-)

  2. Tania Runyan says:

    Just gorgeous and luscious. . .getting me even more ready for spring!

  3. So bummed. I missed this. I think it would have been one of my favorites. :(

  4. Heather says:

    I love the fun in the kitchen, and the italic refrain is perfect.

  5. Lovely.

    Not sure how I missed knowing the date of this poetry jam but I did. And Neruda prompts, no less!

  6. These are just lovely. All of them!

  7. Fun, fun, fun. And never let Glynn take the Twitter-bird away …

  8. laura says:

    “Sitting on the counter
    apron over knees she twinkled
    as she sprinkled a honeycomb
    of bees..”

    These lines absolutely made me smile.

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