Poem...Gathering Bones

ipad drawing of bones at Largy

I’m gathering bones together

On the studio floor.

Crouching down and

Staring at an  assemblage.

Here a nest of bones as

Pale as shadows

On the polished wood.

There a craze of broken glass with

Distorted reflections.

I’m Alice.

Walking through a splintered world

Bridging the actual and

The probable.

 I’m pacing the room and

Glancing back at a vanitas. I 

hear the sound of my own wretched bones

And weep at coming death.

... after reading Gregory Orr’s poem…."Gathering the bones together".

*

I'm involved with an email post called

LITERARY COMFORT FOODS

It's such a good link with people who inspire me in so many different ways and with the lockin holding fast the internet is such a blessing.

*

This poem was sent and received and a grand kind critique along with it also.

*

I've plucked up enough techie courage to send it to 20 others.

Poets, artists, musicians.

My only mistake...as dad used to say...was not reading the instructions carefully.

20 women.

I put 3 men it there!!

Ooops

I think they deserve to be there!

Ruskin's Library ... Brantwood..

Brantwood

This  for me is the most interesting room in Ruskin's home at Brantwood on the banks of the Coniston Water.

We were given the prompt by Geraldine Green to write about several of the curiousities in the cabinets.

I like a cabinet or shelf of curiousities...I have quite a few...the family would say.

Ruskin's Library

The moths are dead and lie under a protective glass dome
no danger to the carpets now         a wasps nest is empty
and the buzzing occupants have fled       to a foreign field
though the hover fly hovers no more              in my mind
I still hear his song of summer       by the specimen chest
it's closed drawers                         and locked cupboards
invite  illicit exploration                or maybe the bookcase
dusted and locked securely                  against the moths
will  reveal the truth              truth about the Turner copy
did the grand man know the artist            was he thrilled
to be chosen to reside in Ruskin's library               where
the Madonna still comforts her holy crying child
now fixed in stone         colour glazed       Liverpool style
over the fireplace            at a window seat there is space
enough     to hide       behind a long green velvet curtain
instructions tell me                I must not touch or horror
of horrors play                with the Armillary sphere     or
woe betide me     if            I  use the ornate writing tray
with its inks to pen my  inktober poems           better far
to find my own curled leaf   out      in the gardens where
freedom  reigns                        and rain brings freedom.

A Shelf of Curiousities with the potter's ceramic clown at the front.

A Box of Vanitas....Broken Bird's Eggs found in the field

Venus of the Bay...vanitas

Have fun this week everyone. x