on Frieda Hughes

Today I am reading some poems by Frieda Hughes for the first time. She has captured me.

 

Meat eaten, the bones have dried.
Blood dust has settled like powder
With plaster from the ceiling,
And the tools are silent.  ~from “The Smile” by Frieda Hughes

 

So, you see what I mean.

 

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NaPoWriMo, Day 25

For today’s poem, I used Nancy Chen Long’s prompt at The Found Poetry Review and “Le Verbe Etre” by Andre Breton.

 

This is despair.
All the rest
glaze Jamaican
until they die.

Drive to the Bijou
in a Chevy,
that Corvette
of ours,
a night bow.

Dispose of the collar.
Pass me until you are full.

 

NaPoWriMo, Days 22, 23 and 24

Day 22

nobody!
advertise —
to be somebody!

erasure poem from ED’s “I’m Nobody! Who are You?”

 

Day 23

ferocious skirmishes
against the borders of every page

erasure miniature from Billy Collins’ “Marginalia”

 

Day 24

I have wanted to see
the wound of the earth
without eyes

erasure miniature from “This Journey” by Ingrid Jonker