local folks

[novapsyche]

The next meeting of Thirteen Blackbirds will be Monday, November 22 at 7:00 p.m. The meeting will be at a member's house; email me at novapsyche at livejournal dot com for directions.

The topic is yet to be determined, but the exercise/challenge is to write a poem in the voice of a woman whose husband has drowned. Because of his death, she has certain feelings towards water, yet in the poem she must encounter water in some form.

If you have any questions or want more info on the exercise, email me at the address above. Thanks!

Comments

I loved this exercise . .. .

[ladyteal.livejournal.com]

this is the poem I wrote for that exercise, actually:

Untitled (by Teal Mercaeant, 2-21-04)

It's been seven years
since I stood on this bitter shore
screaming your name
into the biting wind
sand lining my throat
till I thought I would die
and I would have
gladly
if it meant
being with you again

I don't want this -
crossing over my frozen memories
of this cursed lake
the same red lighthouse
mocking me
laughing in it's apparent immortality
at my still unstable existence

Our daughter
such a beautiful woman now
keeps insisting we go
keeps driving
refuses to understand
the fierceness that lives
in the icy waters of Lake Michigan

The light on her hair
reminds me so much of you
and she laughs with your soft hestiation
a question mark on her humor
but she is stronger than me
and I keep fighting this urge to scream

My knuckles are white now
grasping the strap of my purse
as the rumble of the bridge
echos beneath us
I hate this merging of peninsulas
this point of no return

I still see your limp body
useless and sogged
damn the waves of this rocky lake
you were safe on the ocean
how could a lake
this very lake
take you so easily

And I trusted you
trusted the fates
to bring you home
from your adventure
your day in the winter sun
never knowing I would have to add
a widow's peak to the roof of my heart
always watching for you to come home
even though I know you will never return

I am half-tempted to fling open this door
and dive into the water
to face all I've buried
at the bottom of this arctic abyss
but you wouldn't appreciate that gesture
you never did
instead I let out a breath
and give a shaky smile
to the one who bears your name

And she squeezes my hand
as we find our way back
onto dry land
and travel away
from my memory
of your last day
on the lake