At 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, @LW_Willingham, @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
smiled.
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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Buy a year of Every Day Poems, just $5.99— Read a poem a day, become a better poet. In March we’re exploring the theme Angels.
- Poets and Poems: Benjamin Myers at “The Family Book of Martyrs” - January 31, 2023
- Poets and Poems: Laura Mullen and “After I Was Dead” - January 24, 2023
- “Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard” – An Old Poem, a New Artwork - January 17, 2023
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? 😉
Tania Runyan says
Just gorgeous and luscious. . .getting me even more ready for spring!
Sandra Heska King says
So bummed. I missed this. I think it would have been one of my favorites. 🙁
Heather says
I love the fun in the kitchen, and the italic refrain is perfect.
Maureen Doallas says
Lovely.
Not sure how I missed knowing the date of this poetry jam but I did. And Neruda prompts, no less!
Lexanne Leonard says
These are just lovely. All of them!
Matthew Kreider says
Fun, fun, fun. And never let Glynn take the Twitter-bird away …
laura says
“Sitting on the counter
apron over knees she twinkled
as she sprinkled a honeycomb
of bees..”
These lines absolutely made me smile.