At some point during the month I promised I would write a poem by Ella-Louise, my occassional alter ego (as it sometimes feels to exist in her fictional skin) over at Post Marked-Piper’s Reach. It is full of longing. Whether I’ve pulled off her voice in this, remains to be seen. This came as a single line – to desire a man, not mine to desire – as I walked through the shopping centre car park on Sunday. Such places we find the voices of our narratives!
The title is a nod of the head to the influence of Kaaron Warren’s and Angela Slatter’s story titles (Kaaron’s White Bed and Angela’s Dresses, Three). Both stories appear as reprints in the March release In Fabula-divino (edited by Nicole Murphy).
I have had the line “marmalade sky” in my head for weeks, waiting for the right poem to grow around it. The sunset on Friday evening was amazing. Standing in the middle of the road, watching it flare to life and fade just as quickly gave rise to the rest of the poetry. What I didn’t capture (or maybe I did) the impermanence of the moment, the beauty there and gone.
My failed attempt at being frivolous – something of the latest dare in the Post-It Note Poetry group. It was a nice bit of light after all the rather dark poems of the last week, though I think I’ll have to resort to an ode to my new mop if I am going to pull off being a bit silly! Tomorrow we return to the dark morbid underbelly.
Note: absurde is the French word from which we derive absurdity from.
Yesterday was one of those days where you could believe Summer had been swallowed by Autumn and was headed straight for winter. The sun is out, bright and large this morning. Yesterday just a blip in the seasonal roll out.