“Time Fetches” … and other responses to the last Wednesday Writing Prompt

© Original watercolor, colored pencil and acrylic by the multitalented Renee Espiru. Her poem is featured below.


HAPPY HALLOWEEN!  Wishing you all treats and no tricks … and here’s your first treat of the day, a poetic Halloween celebration courtesy of Paul Brookes, Sonja Benskin Mesher, Colin Blundell, Renee Espiru, Kakali Das Gosh, and John Anstie with a link to Joseph Shaw’s audio of John’s poem to music.  Enjoy!  … and do join in tomorrow for a prompt from a special guest poet. All are welcome, no matter where you come from or whether you’re beginning, emerging or pro. The last Wednesday Writing Prompt was “Twas All Hallows Eve, October  25.


Time Fetches

Received English version

Watch yourself as it’ll soon be time
that the tall hawthorn hedge
that bars you from other worlds
becomes thin this season
in it’s cloud ghosted ditch
so folk from the other side
can bleed through to ours
and you’ll see these weird folk
walk outside your door.

Burn a candle in your home
and light lanterns, jack o’lanterns,
candles outdoors to show
the weird folk, spirits and all
the direct way back. We don’t
want them to detour where
they are not welcome. Respect them
and they’ll respect you.

This night light a fire
in your hearth
to protect yourself
or better yourself.

Write on a scrap a paper
a part of your life
that you wish to be rid off,
such as anger, a baneful habit,
misplaced feelings, disease.

Throw it in the flame
so you may lose
that part you’re ashamed of

Yorkshire Dialect version

Watch thee sen as time fetches on
as tall hawthorn hedge that bars
tha from t’other worlds
in its cloud ghosted ditch
gets thin this season so as folk
from other side can fetch them
sens over an bleed through to ours
and tha’ll see these weird folk
take a stride outside thee door.

Blaze a candle in tha home
and set a flicker lanterns, jack o’lanterns,
candles outdoors to show
the weird folk, spirits and all
direct way back to where
they bide from, so as they don’t
detour where they’re not welcome.
Respect them, they’ll respect thee.

This night light a fire
in tha hearth
for to protect thee sen
or better thee sen.

Scribe on a scrap a paper
a part of thee life
tha wish to be rid on
anger, a baneful habit,
misplaced feelings, disease.

Lob it int flame
so tha may lose
that part tha ashamed on.

This Samhain, All Hallows Eve

place on your table a skull,
small animal skeletons
of shrews, mice, rats disgorged by
forest owls. Lay your gravestone
rubbings as welcome placemats.

Down the centre carved pumpkins,
squash, carrots, swede amongst pine nuts,
walnuts and berries, and dark
breads, rye, pumpernickel, dried
yellow, red leaves, open fir cones.

Fill a cornucopia
with abundant fruit, apples, pears,
leeks. Fill each cup with apple cider,
sweet wine, or honey mead.

Light all with fragrant candles,
to flicker over the plenty.

The table is a thankyou,
a blessing on the goodness.

Go outside, collect dead plants,
to twist and turn and mold a man
or woman to bring inside,
and place on the table.

Give thanks to them and your dead
ancestors before you eat.

© 2017, Paul Brookes (The Wombwell Rainbow, Inspiration, History, Imagination)


.there is a day.

when i listen to cowboy films

on the radio, carve the pumpkin,

breath held in case they scalp him.

every year the same, festival stress

reduced by wanton knowledge

that none of it matters, that I can achieve,

that maybe even I could be worthy, the same

as you.

a surprise party after,

no one came,

no surprise, no one invited,

only you.

© 2017, Sonja Benskin Mesher  (Sonja Benskin Mesher, RCA and Sonja’s Drawings)

.. then there is halloween..

tomorrow.

not on saturday although that may be

more convenient. all hallows,

the reading of the dead.

names.

dust. just

names .

we made the pumpkin again, it comes easier with practice.

he came to tell me about the new baby and said boo . dinner

burned.

the names of the dead

are read.

© 2017, Sonja Benskin Mesher  (Sonja Benskin Mesher, RCA and Sonja’s Drawings)


there’s something about a bonfire

that compels you: perhaps it’s the flames
that leap and curl (free engulfing spirits)
or lick gently at the dead waste
calming to eat away at the centre of things
throughout the empty night

perhaps it’s the isolation –
you and Fire alone in the dark night
in which reflecting fires hang forever

perhaps it’s purification –
sterilisation of assembled dross… its reduction
to a usable commodity associated with
the neat feeling of arranging a garden
in the midst of the wilderness

perhaps it’s like death – convenient
tidy cleansing eradicating…
my father knew what he was doing ordering
‘No Mourners’: if they’d been there
it would have been attenuated
hypocritical unholy

fire is none of these things

(1971/72 revised 1982 revised 1992)

© 2017, Colin Blundell  (Colin Blundell, All and Everything)


Autumnal (2)

” Rainbow hues turning
chill air low sun (but) warm hearts
beauteous day-long dawn

pink light (on) timeless trees
yield a golden fleece and warmth
(for) aching Mother Earth

sleeping beauties wake
from enduring frozen night
in Spring refreshing ”

© 2017, John Anstie (My Poetry Library)

Set to music by Joseph Shaw


#Addiction on Halloween #

It was the time of coming winter after fall
And she came from a ball
It was a Halloween evening
She loved and groped that Eve harmonizing
It was the time for feast
She loved the spirit though came from the east
It was the time for fun
She wore gleaming costumes with a bun
It was the time to unfold new spirit
The air blowing felt different autumn waved and heart enlightened bright
It was the eve when the pall between worlds was sleazy
And to rhyme melodies of worlds was so easy
It was the time to taste candy
She relished its flavour with a brandy
It was the time to sense eerieness lurking around the corner
And the eastern country girl addicted to all unknown being just a learner .

© 2017, Kakali Das Ghosh


Goblins, Witches & Ghouls

Every year at Halloween
excitement filled the air
and children waited
on bated breath

to be goblins, witches,
hoboes and clowns
be become something
of a magical flare

where two streets over
lived a witch to bate them
her house decorated
with pumpkins and ghouls

but who could resist the
table laid before them
with all manner of sweet things
to cause you to drool

© 2017 Renee Espriu  (Renee Just Turtle Flight and Inspiration, Imagination & Creativity with Wings, Haibun, AR, Haiku & Haiga)


ABOUT THE POET BY DAY

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