Animate the Inanimate

We all had to choose an inanimate object to write about, or as if we were that object speaking. The challenge was to find the personality of that object. Some are obvious and others you have to guess what they are!



REACHING, STRETCHING

I like to stretch
And reach for the sky,
Never quite getting there
But oh how I try.

I'm made of wood
Or metal too,
Anything that's strong enough
To hold you.

There are many new versions
Multiple uses for all,
But always the main aim
Is to be long and tall.

These humans, they think
They are the bee's knees,
But they'll never reach the top
Without at least one of me!

- Christine



A CUP

Four cups on a table
When all else fails, have a
cup of tea, said Mum.
This is grief.

- Robert



MY WORD

Words of history
Words of prophets
Words of the holy and unholy
Though inanimate
People say I have a living spirit
Uttering words from above
Sin crucified on cross
Stories of people
Saints and sinners
Prostitutes and prophets
Whores and history
I tell also of future
Not the price of gold
Not the winning race horse
But how God wins in the end
And how we all reap paradise

- Phillip Porteous



DAY OF THE IRON

One day the iron got tired
of steaming and pressing
and grew arms and legs
it jumped off the ironing board
and ran down the street trailing its cord
until all its water
had sloshed down the drain
its iron stomach
expanded in the freezing cold
and it grew hungry
for electrical ions whirling
and so it returned
to where it was from
meekly it served out the rest of its days 
putting creases where it was told
but now and then in protest
it overheated
and melted nylon petticoats

- Helen

Toitu Museum visit

We took a trip to Toitu Otago Settlers Museum to get some inspiration. One of the challenges we put to ourselves was to find an object that we liked and write something about it without letting on what it was. The other challenge was to write something from the perspective of one of the many Scottish settlers in the Smith Gallery.


HOME (from bagpipes, treadle sewing machine and horseshoe)

The heat of the fire 
burns the red mark on the side of her face.
The treadle sewing machine keeps her in place,
trapped in the task of sewing a new apron
to protect her husband out in the smithy's barn.
She thinks of his muscled arms
working the horseshoes,
their embrace reassuring and loving
in this hell-hole of a settlement.
The rhythm of the machine pulls her back,
taking her home
to her beloved Scotland
and the sound of the bagpipes
floating in the air.
Home.

- George 




TOITU PORTRAIT GALLERY

Conceivably I could
live in the same house as you
sleep in the same bed
work in the same building
worship at the same church
and eat the same meals as you.
At a fancy dress party
I could even wear your clothes
I may be your descendant 
but still a chasm divides us
I cannot get inside your skin
Less than 200 years separate us
but our thinking
our way of talking and acting
the mores of society
are so different
it's as if you belonged to a different race
What can I learn from you
and the familiar but alien world in which you lived?
I can learn to take risks
abandoning all in the hope of a better future
I can learn dauntlessness
persevering in the face of insurmountable problems
Can these things be useful
in light of nuclear weapons and environmental disaster?

- Helen



THE WITNESS

Claw feet
Flat deck
A long handle.
In another age
You were pressed into service
But here you are still
A witness to the story
Of settlers
A Sermon From the Dead
An instrument of peace.

- Robert 

Snow Drop Poems

Today our writing was inspired by snowdrops. Some of us entered a competition run by the Dunedin Public Library and Larnach Castle who are hosting a Snowdrop Day on 20 August. They have heaps of them apparently!


WHITE
White lies in waiting
the passive ready to be acted on
the show before the first footprints
the page ready for the words
white marks a new beginning
the bride begins a new life
white is the humble snowdrop
that hands its head under its weight
be gentle with white
easily crushed, easily marred, easily spoiled
white does not stay pure long
the page, the dress yellow with age
the snowdrop gives way to the primrose
white is temporary like winter
with applied warmth it buds
once marked it cannot be undone
white can never be a virgin again
once the marriage had begun
the progress is measured by its lessening
the more the lines on the page
the less white shows.
The white stands as background
for the true work.

- Helen



HELLO LITTLE SNOWDROP

"Hello little snowdrop, I didn't see you there!"
"Hello my giant friend, I couldn't miss you, but most people pass me by as they see me as insignificant."
"Oh dear one, how lonely that must be!"
"No, as you can see I have many other little friends."
"But you are so beautiful; how can those of my kind pass you by?"
"We only come up at the beginning of spring, grown from the snow in winter, when your kind are only watching for the ice, not to slip and fall."
"Well my my, I must inform my own friends of your marvelous beauty."

- Katie-Rose McRobbie

Poetic Shapes

Today we looked at poetry created in a shape that reflects what the poem is about - or vice versa. Here's a couple of examples, two in shapes and one that unraveled along the way.

A CIRCLE OF FRIENDS

A

circle

of friends

inside the triangle

of life, to make light

in the darkness, to make

sense of the unknown future

- Robert 

FUN IN A BOX

Ukulele

Ukule

Uku

Twang

My dog

has fleas

Strung

Strings

Strain

Across

the bridge

Words float from

my lips. Patterns of

sound bounce, jump

jangle, jiggle. It's a 

bit of a giggle. 

Fun in a box. 

Fobbed off on kids. 

Left in a toy cupboard with 

broken strings. Or crafted and

 cared for and played with a 

passion accompanied by a 

go-go dancer in drag. Make 

it what you will. Give it 

love and it will 

sing.

- Paul Smith

WINGS

My mother told me I was born with wings,

tucked neatly behind my back.

To this day the most beautiful words she ever spoke to me.

She told me I was an angel,

yet my wings had to be clipped away to enter into this world.

My upbringing, each day I would shed some of my feathers.

With each adverse experience I became more damaged - more ragged.

The other day, gazing up at the sky,

I locked my eyes on a few soaring birds,

I want to tell them how beautiful they are when they spread their wings.

I want to tell myself that it is time to spread my wings too.

- Eleanor Harrison

"No bird soars too high, if he soars with his own wings"

- William Blake