Group W Bench

[shadygrove]

Props for Melania -- that's a delicate subject for a poem and you nailed it. Nice work.

[Bench]

A Sonnet

You conjured feasts from scraps and bone and string
and learned to prime the ancient pump
that drew water for baths and a twin-tub
washing machine that cleaned our mud-caked things.
You’d wear old dungarees on summer days,
your endless golden hair tied in a bun,
sing rude old songs that made the labour fun
while in our cast-off clothes we gathered hay.

Back then I felt I’d helped: I realise now
those bales were so big I could barely shift
them, but you, mum, have never failed to lift
any burden, and though it seems somehow

impossible, given your smallish frame,
the weights you lift today put me to shame.

[Bench]

Thanks for stopping by Shadygrove!

That last one was because it was about time I had a go at doing something nicerer. I've decided nicerer in most cases is betterer.

[5th column]

Pause, Rewind stands out from the current crop. I wonder if it could form the first stanza of a longer poem.

A sonnet was heading the right way before you named the subject. S1 is, for me, the poem.

A third of the way there!

[Dunc]

Ben

Seshtina - That's quite a conversation, and cleverly fitted in. Not being a fan of the sestina, I enjoy seeing the liberties you take with the words, and the way that avoids the staleness of the usual model.

A Sonnet - Great acknowledgement of Mum! And life on the farm, and growing up. 'your endless golden hair' is a lovely description as well as a warm one.

Regards / Dunc

[Bench]

Dunc, thanks for coming back again and still managing to find positive thoughts to share, and 5th, totally agree introduction of 'mum' was unnecessary at best. Many thanks for stopping by. Another one that still needs plenty of work but hey that's what NaPo's for:

[Bench]

Arrival

My sister threatened to stamp on its head
for being the wrong breed.
She spent ages banging the floorboards
while our mother wept,
then presented a china cat and a glass pony,
things we had given her–
dropped them on the tiles
and crushed them with the heel of her boot.

She’d seen on the internet
that whippets need freedom to run
and deemed our thirty acres
too crowded with green fields.
She’d talked to dog aficionados
who warned how they destroy slippers
as easily as snapping a rabbit’s neck.

I raised my voice like a wall
around my mother.
This refugee will be welcome.

[Donner]

Hi, Bench,

My husband's parents have been married for 70 years and both are now in hospice care at home, so "Untitled" resonated with me almost too much, especially this line: Then Lottie died, and the walls of the small cottage expanded beyond Jack’s ability to cope. I see how not being able to visit as often as he'd like due to work and distance, leaving the day-to-day burdens on his sister, weighs on my husband, so I think the poem's linchpin is the village intervened.

The "Doing Crosswords" image isn't showing up, so, using my magic mod powers, I checked the URL and got this message - You must be logged in to do that. Just FYI.

I loved "Arrival". When we got our first calico cat, my daughter, who was 7 or 8 at the time, asked what we should name her. I said, "Emily". She replied, "You can't name a cat that!" So I said, how about "Spot". She decided Emily would do just fine.

Your work is always a pleasure to read, always fresh and inventive.

Donner

[Donner]

That worked! It would have been a shame to miss out on this one. Brilliant!

Donner

[Bench]

Donner thanks so much for your thoughtful comments and going well beyond mod duty in helping me with uploading the image: ❤️.

[Janelo]

This crossword piece is smart indeed.

Jane

[Mittens]

Loving these, Ben!

The prose poem is a heartbreaker and I imagine it hits a raw nerve for pretty much everyone. Who doesn’t know a “Jack and Lottie”? For me it’s my grandparents - married 45+ years. When my grandmother died, my grandfather (who was a tough-as-nails German guy who never showed any emotion, ever) would break down crying when he stirred his coffee because she wasn’t there to drink it with him. He died in his sleep 2 days before the one year anniversary of her death. He was perfectly healthy when he died and my father is still haunted by the timing and the fear that maybe it wasn’t natural, although he declined to have an autopsy performed.

Your “seshtina” is nicely done. I like N’s back and forth with the counselor, his denials, and the insight into his relationship with his wife and family. It all works effortlessly with the form. I really like the shorter lines and the way you play with the repetition. Also learned a new phrase in “banging a bit of charlie”!

A Sonnet - Lovely tribute. Really liked the detail of the “endless golden hair”. It struck me that a little boy would notice the beauty of his mother’s hair, and as an adult he would recognize the significance of all that beauty being “tied in a bun.” Maybe I’m projecting because my current default style is the mom-bun. But I thought it was a perfect picture of her willing sacrifice for her kids.

Arrival - “I raised my voice like a wall/ around my mother.” Love that ending. And glad the dog has some allies.

Also glad you got that crossword to post

Will be back for more!
~Laura

[Bench]

Janelo, glad you liked it- despite the incongruity of it. Laura, thank you for your support, it means a great deal.

[Bench]

Island

You were my island paradise, my sun:
Barbados, Philippines, where aching palms
craved every rolling wave with open arms,
still thirsty for the man I could become.
And how the fish would swim in to my net!
Wives huddled round my catch on market day,
each silver blade the jewel of my display
each jealousy a song for our duet.
But then El Niño crashed against the shore,
his friction wore away my anchor rope
and cast me to the ocean, beyond hope
my rotten boat would see you evermore.
I think I might just drift along a while
and search the sun’s reflection for your smile.

[Bench]

The Prug

Use this link!