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Poetry Postcard Fest Follow Up Post 2024 #9 & 10

humanist55

Dear Francoise
A little peek on Google Maps
shows me that Hedgesville
is the most charming of small towns
deep in W. Virginia’s Appalachians
and I picked this card because
it seemed “homespun”
though in truth it is the creation
of Artificial intelligence
if I may call it that…
I guess there are a lot of pictures
of the work of crafters for
an A. I. to learn from and oblige me
though in truth I can knit,
crochet, sew and embroider
as well as any man I know
but these little hearts could do
as ideas for “real-world” art
Much Love
Andrew

I sent a card but cannot match it to the picture on the front of the card and so #9 is my poem only…
If Emily Darby of Group 10 would care to DM me I would be most obliged…

Dear Emily
They say we
never really lose a memory
but if the mind is a palace
ever-expanding as we age
then for sure, we forget
how to find our way
through the labyrinth of corridors
where in places, ceilings have collapsed
and should we revisit darker passages
we should trail a long string
so we may retrace our steps
and not get lost for good.
But with each exploration
we may map the past
– define our own archaeology…

Thank you for your lovely
card of Mont Blanc, whose style
I adore… Much Love – Andrew

Vampire ll

humanist55

A Quadrille…

Vampires have to be
permitted entry
one night
laid low by other losses
I let you lie with me
bleed me dry
almost
though not enough
to feed your need
you never turned me
sought out fresh blood
but you marked me
for life…

© Andrew Wilson, 2024

This week over at dVerse Poets Pub,  dorahak in Quadrille invites us to write a poem on the undead – Vampires…

‘Give us a 44-word poem including the word “vampire” (or a derivative thereof, such as “vamp”)’

I was awakened by another’s insomnia and then couldn’t return to sleep myself so ar 4am this poem sidled into being, but confused by the hour, I wrote 144 words instead of 44 – but I guess they needed to come out and so, having posted it in error, I was challenged by Dora, our host, to distill it down to 44 – it still works I think, but if you want to read the original – hit the Home button to find it below this post…

Vampire

humanist55

Like a vampire
you had to be let in
I knew what you were
kept you at bay
but one night
laid low by other losses
I let you across the threshold
to lie with me
you bled me dry – almost
not all at once  but daily
feeding but not enough
to feed your need
an amour fou
that even though I knew it
I could not break the spell
and when I was close to death
you moved on to fresh blood
though you hovered
on the periphery
for the odd feed
you never turned me
and yet though you are
far enough away now and I
am recovered
perfuse again
and have walled you off
in my mind
you have left your mark
for all time
as all lovers do
if lover you were
and I will never be
as I once was
innocent of all…

© Andrew Wilson, 2024

This week over at dVerse Poets Pub,  dorahak in Quadrille invites us to write a poem on the undead – Vampires…

‘Give us a 44-word poem including the word “vampire” (or a derivative thereof, such as “vamp”)’

Poetry Postcard Fest Follow Up Post 2024 #8

humanist55

Dear Grace
This AI-fabricated teacher
in the style of Gustav Klimt
Struck me as so striking
I pondered the words that might
describe him geographically
and generationally
Boss – Liverpool, Bonzer – Australia
Dishy – Sixties, Sick – Noughties
Dope – currently
Fanciable – Fifties, Personable – Forties
Stylish but not Suave, Fine
Fair but not fair – more darkly Dreamy
A Snack, Eye Candy, Hot
Studly and Hunk do not, I think, apply
Buff, Beautiful, Dreamboat…
Which of these gets your vote
or does he simply not float your boat?

This last year, both I and many poets I know (in the Internet sense as opposed to the real world or the biblical), have started illustrating their work using AI images whose results are sometimes so stunning as to distract from the poems being illustrated. So are we shooting ourselves in the foot, gilding the lily…

The Poetry Postcard Fest is a challenge which encourages poets to write an unedited poem on a postcard and send it to a stranger. It is organised by the Cascadia Poetics Lab, who arrange the participants into lists of 31 + yourself for you to address your offerings to. This was my second year and I was on List 10. The lists are sent out in early July and you have until the end of August to send out your missives – to date I have received 16 of 31 possibles and now that we are into September, it is allowable to share the cards and poems you sent.
Although the original poem is to be sent as written – crossings out, blots and all, I have typed them out for people who can’t read my writing and I am allowing myself to edit if I feel like it…


Poetry Postcard Fest Follow Up Post 2024 #7

humanist55

Dear Terri-Ann
I see you live in Honolulu
but that, and a bravely empty
Facebook page have given me no clue
as to who you are and what poetry
you might enjoy and so I resort
to writing about the AI picture
on the front, or rather whether we ought
to make art using the computer…
Niceaunties is a pseudonym for an artist
and for her AI generated project
about ageing, beauty, freedom, and fun
without AI it couldn’t have been done
but Artists Against AI have sent
death threats to Niceaunties
because they say AI is murdering art
remember they said the same
about photography so I say
live and let live – have a heart…

(See niceaunties.com)

This last year, both I and many poets I know (in the Internet sense as opposed to the real world or the biblical), have started illustrating their work using AI images whose results are sometimes so stunning as to distract from the poems being illustrated. So are we shooting ourselves in the foot, gilding the lily…

The Poetry Postcard Fest is a challenge which encourages poets to write an unedited poem on a postcard and send it to a stranger. It is organised by the Cascadia Poetics Lab, who arrange the participants into lists of 31 + yourself for you to address your offerings to. This was my second year and I was on List 10. The lists are sent out in early July and you have until the end of August to send out your missives – to date I have received 16 of 31 possibles and now that we are into September, it is allowable to share the cards and poems you sent.
Although the original poem is to be sent as written – crossings out, blots and all, I have typed them out for people who can’t read my writing and I am allowing myself to edit if I feel like it…

Poetry Postcard Fest Follow Up Post 2024 #6

humanist55

Dear Roberta
Using an AI to make images
can be wondrous,
frustrating, puzzling
and incredible in varying degrees
but sometimes, the sheer beauty
simply makes one gasp…

This last year, both I and many poets I know (in the Internet sense as opposed to the real world or the biblical), have started illustrating their work using AI images whose results are sometimes so stunning as to distract from the poems being illustrated. Yet we poets often work to prompts and we must construct prompts for the AI…

The Poetry Postcard Fest is a challenge which encourages poets to write an unedited poem on a postcard and send it to a stranger. Organised by the Cascadia Poetics Lab, who organise the participants into lists of 31 + yourself for you to address your offerings to. This was my second year and I was on List 10. The lists are sent out in early July and you have until the end of August to send out your missives – to date I have received 16 of 31 possibles and now that we are into September, it is allowable to share the cards and poems you sent.
Although the original poem is to be sent as written – crossings out, blots and all, I have typed them out for people who can’t read my writing and I am allowing myself to edit if I feel like it…

Fifty Years in Fifty Minutes

humanist55

Do we wear watches
or surround ourselves with clocks
to rein in our unruly
perception of time passing
“Oh heavens! Just look at the time!”
we say to an old friend
with whom we have been
immersed for fifty years in fifty minutes.

Even battery operated quartz clocks
can produce a metronomic beat
if we listen hard enough
but a pendulum grand father
case clock cannot be beaten –
ticking and tocking
the heartbeat of a house.

On TV The Repair Shop
at its allotted hour
restores treasured items
and the clock maker
is much in demand for –
mantel clocks with chiming mechanisms
corner the market for memories
of loved ones lost since childhood
when they made the soundtrack
of visits to grandparents
uncles and aunts.

Offices with Bauhaus severe wall clocks
Place them where drones can regulate their work
but if the heart isn’t in it
then they offer clock-watchers little solace
because a watched clock stretches time
with the incremental twitch of its hands

Once, clocks marked retirement
condemning the wearer
to pointless hours
with no consolation for being
wrapped in a gold case –
markers of growing up –
making the grade –
tokens of affection…

The utility of timepieces
nearly died with the ubiquity
of mobile phones with which
even children have
a constant time coach
an alarm clock, an egg timer
and a sports stopwatch
tickless and tockless in their pocket
time always on top –
at least they don’t show
the sands of time running out
though doubtless
there is an app for that.

There is now no excuse
not to know the time
broadcast by the network
linked to an atomic clock somewhere
but still a clock cannot control
the flexibility of time in mind
our stretching it out
in the instant of a crash
our inability to slow it
in the minutes before parting
the long minutes as medics
attempt resuscitation
before a doctor finally calls time.

Time is not always our friend
yet we carry a constant measure of it
in our pockets or strapped to our wrists
for fear of missing out…

© Andrew Wilson, 2024

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub Open Link Night where you can post one poem of your choice – Björn Rudberg (brudberg) is managing the pub for this after returning from his epic hike from the northernmost tip of Sweden to the end of the mountains in the south (1346 km in 53 days)!
This is another poem which is the fruit of my writing group where we were writing “in the shadow of” The Watch by Danusha Laméris

…

Poetry Postcard Fest Follow Up Post 2024 #5

humanist55

Dear Alice
Your name always reminds me
of that Victorian Alice from Oxford
the city where I grew up reading avidly
Lewis Carrol, Tolkien and C.S.Lewis
wo all wrote in my home town.

How do A.I.s make their creativity
– I asked for Alice in Wonderland
at the court of the Red Queen
in the style of Studio Ghibli
directed by Hagao Migazhi
and this confusion of the Caterpillar’s seat
the Mad Hatters Tea Party
and the Red Queen’s Court is the result!
Other Alice’s apply – perhaps your parents
loved the song “My Alice Blue Gown”
whatever the reason for your naming
it is a lovely name…

The Poetry Postcard Fest is a challenge which encourages poets to write an unedited poem on a postcard and send it to a stranger. Organised by the Cascadia Poetics Lab, who organise the participants into lists of 31 + yourself for you to address your offerings to. This was my second year and I was on List 10. The lists are sent out in early July and you have until the end of August to send out your missives – to date I have received 16 of 31 possibles and now that we are into September, it is allowable to share the cards and poems you sent.
Although the original poem is to be sent as written – crossings out, blots and all, I have typed them out for people who can’t read my writing and I am allowing myself to edit if I feel like it…

PS I wrote about the song “My Alice Blue Gown” here…

Poetry Postcard Fest Follow Up Post 2024 #4

humanist55

Dear Kay
Oregon, I believe
is a state full of trees
and a child of Oregon
would have no difficulty
visualising the setting for
Little Red Riding Hood
originally written by
the Brothers Grimm of Germany
but repeatedly rewritten and
referenced in book, film and TV.
Even in America
Cordellya Smith of Kentucky
wrote a Native American version
Kawoni’s Journey Across the Mountain
a Cherokee Little Red Riding Hood
the classic tale of a girl in jeopardy
is a warning to children everywhere
against walking in the woods alone
and to watch out for wolves…

The Poetry Postcard Fest is a challenge which encourages poets to write an unedited poem on a postcard and send it to a stranger. Organised by the Cascadia Poetics Lab, who organise the participants into lists of 31 + yourself for you to address your offerings to. This was my second year and I was on List 10. The lists are sent out in early July and you have until the end of August to send out your missives – to date I have received 16 of 31 possibles and now that we are into September, it is allowable to share the cards and poems you sent.
Although the original poem is to be sent as written – crossings out, blots and all, I have typed them out for people who can’t read my writing and I am allowing myself to edit if I feel like it…

Down to the Sea Again…

humanist55

People ask if I miss Ireland
but I can travel there anytime
in my mind’s eye
standing on the rocky ledges
three hundred and fifty million years old
as gentle swells roll in from the West
smoothly curved as a reclining breast
no more than eighteen inches high
rising to just below my feet
it looks gentle but one
slightly higher wave
spilling onto the ledge
would take the feet from under me
pluck me into the water
the high tide daring me
to stand so close to the edge
I guess six tons of water
moves within six feet of me
six feet deep and a few million years
of fossil coral reef beneath me
slowly etching back into the world
with every passing swell

I set up my rod and cast
whose first retrieve
snags a bunch of seaweed
with a Pipe Fish
– a straightened cousin
of the Seahorse curling its
tail to cling amongst the fronds
the pollock are running
and I cast my heavy silver Toby again
splashing into the glassy Atlantic water
so clear I can see the bottom
slowly retrieve, pausing, simulating
the rise and fall of a weary baitfish
my lure is about to break the surface
when the Pollock strikes
turning in a thrilling
savage flash of silver
right before me.

I walk my haul back along the ledges
past the place I met the otter
– playing hide and seek
with matching curiosity
for a full twenty minutes
after he slipped into the water
and dived only to resurface
elsewhere to spy on me repeatedly
– until I turned the tables
to crouch out of sight of him
making him the seeker…

Past the lime kiln
dug into the low boulder-clay cliff
now half exposed revealing its
bottle shape – lined with
fire-proof granite boulders
gleaned from its digging out
when was it built and how many
houses did its quicklime mortar
build in turn – perhaps ours…

I file these memories
of sparkling swells
in the most special room
of my Memory Palace
to be visited on dull days
far from the sea
or maybe set down in verse…

© Andrew Wilson, 2024

Over at dVerse Poets Pub,  lillian in Poetics asks us to write to a line from the Mitch Miller song “By the Beautiful Sea“