There is this poetry initiative here in Ireland called ‘Ó Bhéal‘ that each week posts 5 words and challenges you to create a poem using these words. It is a competition with weekly deadlines and the 5 words change every 7 days to give a new set of challenges and opportunity. I came across this and thought it was such a fun, inspiring and thought provoking concept that I have been almost playing along as the weeks go by, testing myself and my ability to incorporate specific words and create a piece using them. I’m just doing this for myself and most of the time it doesn’t work out, its more difficult than you would think, in my opinion anyway. Speaking for myself when given particular random words and tasked to put them in a poem I find it to be either exhilaratingly inspiring or stiflingly restrictive. Here are last weeks 5 words and what I did with them, it didn’t turn out too well, I’ll admit I struggled but it came together in some sort of form and I’ve decided to share it here. ALso if your interested I’ve leave the link to ‘Ó Bhéal‘ website so you can try yourself and see what you can do when given the challenge.
Ó Bhéal website: http://www.obheal.ie/blog/?page_id=2371
Last weeks words: Dark, tap, power, pen, fight
Dawn to Dusk
Head in hand, cheek warm against an anxious palm,
Body pressed tight to an unyielding surface.
Dark approaches, carries a shadowing wave, a creeping chill.
With a drawing force, the energy of the day begins to slip, dissolve away.
Temperature drops, a battle rages within soot covered walls.
Internal struggles frenzy, frustration heightens, spurs and feeds desperation.
Frozen in place, shrouded and encased by an ineffective embrace,
Held captive, pinned down by the leg of a chair.
Surrounded by casualties, broken pieces of ideas fuel a now roaring pyre.
Mind a prisoner, body bound,
Paralyzed, hostage, neither moving nor fully still.
An idea took hold, demanded fullest attention.
Purpose, a challenge was eagerly accepted,
Embarked upon through the misleading rose tinged light of a new day.
Now dusk sweeps in, casts a copper hue,
Sinking, setting light travels in a lethargic arc across the horizon.
What seemed like possibility feels suddenly like a burden,
Weighted potential yet to be fulfilled.
The power and allure of creativity,
The aching tap of ideas punishingly become clogged when pen is put to paper.
Thoughts no longer seem to hold order,
Sink into silence, afraid to be heard aloud.
Chaotic letters, swirling words, disordered, illegible sentences.
Weaving, slinking glimpses at what could be.
Just when it would seem all should start to solidify, become visible,
When patterns should evolve and resolve to take a form,
They slip away, fade and flutter through my fingers,
Move closer towards indistinguishable,
Entangle, move further from the vision imprinted on my mind.
No longer certain of what was begun when brightness first illuminated blank page,
Remnants of dissatisfaction and correction leave deep, mocking impressions,
Scars wordlessly mark seemingly unchanged surface,
Trials and efforts concealed; invisible to all but scribe.
Midnight enveloping, darkness disguising.
Whistling embers whisper and beckon to surrender,
The lure of abandon, the ease of resignation.
Solution blackened and hidden, answer just out of reach,
Unrealized ambition, uncompleted concept,
A day that came and went, an idea still locked away.