Raven q(r)uark, crassing, voicing,

mate circling a similar air.

Independent, minded, capable

of linguistic displacement, weighted

with significant information –

it was present at inception.

This new part(icle) bird, part

Gesture, a caws celebre,

Big bang of wings a flight path,

String theory applied

To its nest of black gravity,

Its entangled stare, its feathered

Dark matter.

 
 

My Physics take on Petru’s (petrujviljoen) Song. Latest attempt at Jilly’s July Challenge. 

The joy of the fish whosoever would know
The kingfishers flash – what ignorance they show

My Antithetical Couplet for the July Challenge.

OK, I took huge liberties with nostaugustines’s July challenge verse. It started me off in a direction and I thought it would be fun to roll with it. Apologies in advance if too far out of the spirit of the exercise.

Here is the original:

Memory is a prison
A refrigerator buzz
While I make tostadas
A hum over mumbling
Mobsters on the box
A-wandering, mapless
A baroque Sicilian plot

Memory is a prison

Here is the mess I made out of it:

Memory is a prison
Of the smell of scorched beans
While I make tostadas,
A refrigerator buzz
From the broken fan.
Denver, Summer, hot, 1978.
The apartment a block from Colfax
With drug dealers on the porch
And garbage trucks in the alley
At 3AM. I contemplate
The rack of Winchester .30-30’s
With lever action
At Gart Brothers.

White Bear
Kicks in my door
His voice
A hum over mumbling,
Can’t understand him so drunk.
Tired of being just another Indian
Sleeping at the bus stop
Next to the emptys of Thunderbird.
He walked and hitched from South Dakota,
Wandering mapless, shiftless, meaningless
Near madness,
Not sure who he killed –
Girlfriend, wife, cousin.
Justice in his family
Baroque, a Sicilian plot
Of honor and
Retribution.

But none of that matters –
Memory is a prison
Because she saw someone else’s nightgown
On the back of the bedroom door,
A bottle of eyeliner
On the sink,
And was gone.
Left me with the junkies
And mobsters
Playing cards
On top of the milkbox,
Who grabbed her ass
On her way out
the door.

OK, this is my (probably ill-advised) contribution to the July Challenge.  I was in a darkish frame of mind after working on Charlie’s Raven prompt, so apologies if this isn’t everyone’s cup of tea.

Two parts to this challenge:

1st: it is in Sonnet form.  Not strictly iambic pentameter, so don’t worry about that.  Just the abab, cdcd, efef, gg rhyming scheme and format.

2nd, and possibly more difficult: What interests me are vibrant imagery and vigorous (and imaginative) use of language.  You will notice that I tried to push the boundaries at  bit on both of these.  My challenge to you is “keep it up!”  Throw down things that sound interesting, even at the boundaries of sensibility.  Take some risks!  See if you get back jade by throwing some bricks…

Here is the first half, see where it takes you:

The Devil rolls some teeth like dice,
Says your bones are for the gamble —
Wants to know your wager price,
And if the payout you can handle:

He’ll use your ribs for a picket gate,
Ligaments to string a violin’s regret,
Skin to stretch the truth from here to fate,