And now for our (optional) prompt, which takes its inspiration from another surrealist work, Federico Garcia Lorca’s poem “City that Does Not Sleep.” Lorca took much of his inspiration from Spanish folklore, but also wrote a group of harrowing poems based on time he spent in New York. (Lorca was nota fan of the Big Apple). “City That Does Not Sleep” is from that collection. Subtitled “Brooklyn Bridge Nocturne” in the original Spanish, it presents a kaleidoscopic, hallucinatory vision of the city as a wild countryside roamed by animals. Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem that, like The Color of Pomegranates and “City That Does Not Sleep,” incorporates wild, surreal images. Try to play around with writing that doesn’t make formal sense, but which engages all the senses and involves dream-logic.
I dedicate today’s poem to all those who are either fighting cancer or seen someone close fighting it or have lost someone to cancer.
Was Satan himself, in all his cimmerian, black glory-
On a perfectly clear blue day
His canines desperate to dig, he was starved and hungry
He chose the kindest of the lot and made his way
She hadn’t known when and how he’d entered,
Tentacles clinging to her tender flesh
Gnawing surreptitiously, His efforts concentred
Her cells; supple, fresh
no longer. He’d turned them into zombies
Duplicating and replicating
Slithering, ravaging, busy
Ugly claws tightening
A hoarse lump
An inconspicuous stump
Roots deep, piercing, menacing
Jubilant; her body his toy
Wild forest fire burning
inch by inch to destroy
Dry autumn leaves
Tired, she grieves
Eyes glowing, he’s rejoicing
Her body weakened
A warrior fighting
Her soul he couldn’t touch
In memory of all those beautiful souls lost to this dreaded disease.
Copyright©2019. lifeateacher.wordpress.com. All Rights Reserved.
P.C. From the Net