Poesia No. 3

And image number 3...  (this one actually made me feel a little weird... I wonder if it has the same effect on anyone else?)  Comment/respond any way you like! 

Project info here.

Thank you so much for joining in! 

Poesia No. 2

Two images today, but I will put them up in separate posts.  Here's one...  As always, no rules, just whatever reaction you have (and please don't be shy if it isn't positive -Honesty is valued here!)

If you've just arrived, and are wondering what Project Poesia is all about, see the intro here.

Poesia No. 1

Remember - NO rules - just comment with whatever response comes to mind.

(See a description of the project here )

Here is image number 1:

Project Poesia

Poesia:  From Latin poesis, from Ancient Greek ποίησις (poíēsis, “production, composition”)

(This is not part of the project - I just love the word "poesia",
and borrowed the image from the web :)

I'm dusting the blog off again, for a new project.  This is something a bit strange and experimental, and instead of ME expressing meaning in the artworks that will appear here over the next ten days, I'm throwing it open to YOU.  Any response, in any way, from any one!   

Over the next 10 days, I'll be posting bits and pieces of image and text.  What I need from you, is just whatever response comes to mind as you view them.  

Are you game?? 

It's something I'm putting together as part of an MA course in Literature and Creative Writing, and what I'm most interested in, this time, is not so much meaning itself as the ways in which we construct it.  So...  there literally is NO "correct" response.  Tell me your gut reaction, ask questions (there's no guarantee that any answers even exist, but that's okay...)  Let me know if it reminded you of something, looked like something, sounded like something...  whatever occurs to you!  there really are NO rules.  

And, hopefully - it will be interesting and fun to see what develops.

I won't be adding any of my own interpretations (this is about challenging them!)  I might ask questions in response to your comments.  I WILL post some of my own conclusions at the very end, just for those who are interested.  

And... Thanks for joining me!!

A Poem A Day 30

Parting Pantoum

I wanted to beat writer’s block

With a poem a day, for a month

Friends encouraged me, much to my shock

And I wrote every day without stint.

With a poem a day, for a month

Such a public vow, I dared not stop

And I wrote every day without stint

The muse being present or not.

Such a public vow, I dared not stop

But the strangest thing started to happen

The muse being present or not

I still found the joy of creation.

And the strangest thing started to happen

My muted voice started to soar

Rediscovering the joy of creation

With each poem, I found so much more.

As my muted voice started to soar

I was met with encouragement, daily

With each poem I met so much more

As community reached out to bless me.

I was met with encouragement, daily

And friends added their voices to mine

As community reached out to bless me

It was greater than I, was divine.

When friends added their voices to mine

I was able to break writer’s block

It was greater than I, was divine

Your encouragement, much to my shock.


 Kerry Miller


Here endeth my "Poem A Day" challenge.  Not quite 30 consecutive days, but 30 poems nonetheless. I have surprised myself, written things quite different to anything I've written before, and found inspiration when I thought I had none - and I really have to thank all of you who wrote with me, encouraged me, and cheered me on.  Thank you.  

Here's to continuing the creative thread!  

A Poem A Day 29

                    What They Said

When we said some words, in front of a minister, before God.

          They said our vows were holy, unbreakable.

                    I signed with my life.

When he exploded because I moved furniture in our newlywed apartment.

          They said things would get better.

                    I waited, on eggshells.

When he blamed me for something he had lost and yelled, and yelled, and yelled

           They said I should not have yelled back.

                    I took responsibility for the escalation.

When he soiled everything, did nothing, and my frustration boiled over

           They said I should respect him.

                    I could not, and felt a failure.

When the yelling and fighting and demanding became too much and I ran away

          They said our bond was sacred.

                    I went back to him.

When I did not want sex, and he pressured and bullied me

          They told me I needed to love him.

                    I drank numbness to satisfy him.

When his abuse became intolerable, and I left the house to escape

          They said our relationship needed help.

                    I kept going through the motions.

When, exhausted, with a newborn, I said no to sex and he railed all night, relentless

          They did not say anything

                    And I was too tired to even think of a response.

When I rang the police, to ask if they could stop the yelling

          They said if he was not hitting me, they could do little.

                    I swallowed my pain.

When I ran to my family after yet another argument

          They questioned my communication skills.

                    I continued struggling.

When I broke down in Church, begging God for help or relief

          They said I needed to believe more.

                    I prayed harder.

When he worked through our family holiday and we were without him

          We breathed freely, walked on solid earth

                    I found clarity.

When I finally walked away

          They questioned my motives.

                    I believed myself.

                    Kerry Miller

A Poem A Day 28

Ekphrasis

In the shopping centre carpark,

trolleys crash

like

breakers. Echoing

traffic mimics distant surf.  My

smartphone becomes

maritime,

washing up sculpture in

MMS.  Curves in weathered wood

sound like a whaleboat,

drifting;

crazed and craggy,

yet timeworn smooth, the deck invites

touch, while above,

an

aimless harpoon

gun still shines with menace, a resonance

of fear; a sculpted

poem

singing beauty and dissonance.

Kerry Miller

One of the most wonderful things about this poetry challenge, has been hearing from friends who have been also inspired to create as a result of the poems. This poem was written in response to a beautiful sculpture by my friend Andre Nortje, representing a derelict whaling boat. He sent me photos in a text message, telling me he had been inspired to begin sculpting again by the poetry challenge, and that this sculpture, in particular, seemed to him like a visual poem.  I have to agree.