Allison Blevins
work
January Gill O’Neill
WATERLINE
By Ocean Vuong
If I should wake & the Ark
the Ark already
gone
If there was one shivering thing
at my side
If the snow in his hair
was all that was left
of the fire
If we ran through the orchard
with our mouths
wide open
& still too small
for amen
If I nationed myself
in the shadow
of a colossal wave
If only to hold on
by opening—
by kingdom come
give me this one
eighth day
let me enter
this nearly-gone yes
the way death enters
anything fully
without a trace
Taken from Emergence Magazine
MICRO AGGRESSIONS
This is a series of poems that can be read in full here.
Abdul Ali
#9
On the day of your interview a full itinerary is prepared. Jokingly, you wonder
if you should have requested potty breaks. Never has your day been this structured.
About six or seven hours of back-to-back meetings. During lunch you meet the only
Black faculty member in English, who is leaving. You don’t think anything
of it except that the coincidence is more than ironic. You try to make small talk.
You want to gauge if there is any coded language from the “sista”
that says Get Out. Do not succumb to this Sunken Place. Instead,
you get an unexpected quiz during lunch from the Black faculty member.
“How will you as a Black man teach these privileged kids
how to read Black literature as universal?” Before you can respond, she cuts you off
A little surreal prose poem
So Day 4 of #GloPoWriMo and I’ve managed to read poetry and write some for the last four days. I’m pleased with that as it’s the most I’ve written all year!
I’m sharing this little surreal prose poem that came my way by Franz Kafka that really inspired me. The illustration is by Aimee Pong and you can find more illustrated poems by Kafka here too.
This is what I wrote jumping off The Sirens-
The sirens of waiting – a surreal prose poem
Waiting. Seductive voices floating through the dark night draw me in with the promise of beauty; laying down my load and being rescued.
Thick velvet air, their song like the Sirens overwhelm my senses leading me to think I’m safe and wanted and loved. Isn’t this how all men ( little boys in grown up clothes) draw their prey in?
The Black Madonna, another mother for all white people. With my eyes sharpened through carrots, I’m no longer waiting for someone to come and save me. There is no one. There is no such person. It was a construct fed on a reel since the day I took my first breath. A falsehood fed like life itself.
I’m the one I’ve been waiting for. Me in all my fucked up glory is the one who will save me. I see it now. I feel it now. I hear it now in my lament sung aloud. Listen. Doesn’t it sound so beautiful?
It’s a blessing
Day 3 of GloPoWriMo and I promise the last one from Lucile Clifton ( for now!).
And this poem, I just love the tone, the softness which for me mirrors the moving of the boats out with the tide into the deep waters.
The smooth cruise of wood on water is a the sight to behold. But there is love here and a turning away from fear and a floating off into the future with hope.
This is not about boats this is a blessing, a wish on how to live our lives. And I totally buy into it with an open heart.
To keep that innocence, to keep that hope within our hearts against the odds, against our day to day struggles is a gift. Is a blessing.
my kissmaking hand
I’m sticking with Lucille Clifton today for day 2 of GloPoWriMo because I don’t think I read enough of her. I don’t think anyone can read enough of Lucille Clifton.
I came to her writing late and I’m not going to beat myself up to catch up. I’m going to savour every poem I read of Clifton’s as I don’t believe her poetry, her words should be rushed.
Clifton’s words have the ability to live in the bones of a person and that’s where I want them to lodge and not let go.
So today I share ‘cutting greens’ because of this poem’s ‘kissmaking’ – nature and humans as one.
GloPoWriMo
April is Global Poetry Writing Month (GloPoWriMo). And I need it as things become apparent in the next couple of weeks as I share here.
I need to get writing but have been fighting a cold and bug for the last week so my energy levels are low.
But I’m moving through it grateful for each day I feel a bit better and manage to get out for a walk.
I am going to be writing poems this month but for me writing goes hand in hand with reading.
So this month of writing poems will see me sharing poems here. As a motivator as a means of getting out of a rut.
So today – Day 1, I share a favourite poem from Lucille Clifton.
Returning to the Highlands
The Glencoe region of Scotland has always held a special place in my heart. When the kids were little, we’d do driving tours up there, jumping from one Premier Inn to another really just to satisfy my own cravings for the Scottish landscape. The wide open spaces, the lochs and glens and mountains.
I created a self-imposed retreat in November when other plans fell through. I took my time to drive into the highlands knowing I was returning to my favourite hotel out there. Kinghouse Hotel, Glencoe.
The plan was simple to rest, walk and create. And I wasn’t disappointed by the scenery, the service, the weather or the creativity.
It was gift to just focus on me and my creativity. A luxury I was truly grateful for. I just want to do it again and again and again.
I fell in love with a mountain and glen up there. So I’ll have to return if we’re going courting!
Living Wild Studios 