Maggie Sawkins, who leads local poetry and creative group Tongues & Grooves has unleashed a local #writingchallenge and they kindly let us publish the responses. This week’s challenge was – in Paul Klee’s words – to ‘take a line for a walk’. Borrow a line from the Maggie Sawkins’ poem ‘The Zoo Keeper’s Song’, to use as the first line of your own poem. Aim for 14 lines or less.
The Zoo Keeper’s Song, by Maggie Sawkins
I could watch them for hours
Esmeralda and Zola
strolling up and down
on legs as long as stilted circus clowns.
With my daily offerings
of lettuce, radish and grape
I enter the enclosure
run my hand over
the primitive patchwork skin,
watch how they flutter their eyelashes
like two actresses
in an old time movie.
When I come back
I want to be the leaves
of the tallest trees.
I want to be devoured
by those magnificent tongues.
Margaret Jennings
When I come back
I will be myself
instead of this other someone
I don’t recognise.
When I come back
I will walk on the foreshore,
go crabbing with the kids,
talk nonsense over tea and cake
and fall asleep from the tiredness of it all.
I will not weep.
I will not bounce against walls
like I have never done before,
finding things to do,
being useful,
being helpful,
being kind,
with all its self-congratulatory glory.
When I come back
to myself
it will be a whole other story.
Suzanne Attridge
Until I met the child
I did not know she lived.
But, when I came back, she came too.
I had heard calling, not sad, not lost.
Just a Hey, I exist, can I come with you?
How happy we were, when we came back.
Shared jokes, and everyone said,
You are the same. We smiled,
threw a knowing look at the sky,
found a brackish pond in the wood,
and paddled among the tiddlers.
When I came back
life was mainly like this.
Once I used to worry so. This has melted away.
Just a whisper to say
How lucky I am now.
Stacey Leanne Appleton
When I come back
‘I must go down to the sea again,’
so I’ll be a clam,
in its own world,
turning grit into pearls.
I’ll turn my welcome mat around,
so it faces out,
on Broadmarsh beach,
till the briny salt beckons,
it’s magic hour!
Slowly, I open up,
I turn to the sunlight,
its orange radiates on my face,
and the shadows fall behind.
Sue Shipp
When I come back,
I want to be the leaves
unfurling fresh green from
the bud sleeping the winter through.
I want to dapple the woodland floor;
host an aphid buffet; shelter the
chrysalis where the butterfly grows.
I want to turn russet, gold and red,
fall from the tree with the lightness of a feather,
break crisply beneath walking feet.
And then, I shall sleep.
Janet Ayers
Like two actresses,
each other’s supporting
role, they tread
the boards of
the tired pier
and sing along
with the seagulls
and laugh at
the sunset, and
hold on to
each other, as the
wind takes their
breath away, they
float off into the soft pink sky
Eileen Phyall
With my daily offering
I creep into the room.
Today figs and freshly peeled oranges.
Yesterday peaches were on the tray.
I have to keep him happy
With my daily offering
To keep his rage at bay,
To keep him happy.
No simple story telling
His senses must be satisfied
With my daily offering.
What shall I give tomorrow?
The shelves are almost bare
his appetite must be filled
with my daily offering
or he will rise and with his sword
cut off my head.
Which will become his daily
Offering to his angry god.
You can take part in the regular Tongues & Grooves #WritingChallenge over on their Facebook page and check out their website and Twitter, too.
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