"Oh, you drew a poem!"
That was what a friend of mine commented as he flicked
through the pages of the sketchbook I recently completed for the Arthouse Co-op's 2012 Sketchbook Project.
I had started the
project as a kind of enforced brainstorming endeavour. I planned to fill the crisp white pages of my
new sketchbook with as many scrawled and messy ideas as I could think of, but then a red ribbon emerged and it coiled and writhed in my head. I had to
follow it.
So, I drew a poem...Apparently.
I like it. I like its wordlessness, but
I have found myself wondering what it would sound like if it could speak.
I imagine it with not one, but a hum of many distant voices, intertwined,
all whispering different stories. Which is
where you come in.
I like it. I like its wordlessness, but
I have found myself wondering what it would sound like if it could speak.
I imagine it with not one, but a hum of many distant voices, intertwined,
all whispering different stories. Which is
where you come in.
Your challenge is to be one
of those voices. It's not a competition, there's no definitively correct interpretation, no particular plans for commercial
publication and, although I may post my favourites here, or on my website, your words will remain just that. It is simply an interesting thing to do and purely
just for fun.
So, take a look at the slide show below or follow this link where
you will find all my illustrations: Write your poem (nothing too explicit
please) and leave it at the bottom of this post. Feel free to leave your name and details or post anonymously, It's completely up to you.
So, take a look at the slide show below or follow this link where
you will find all my illustrations: Write your poem (nothing too explicit
please) and leave it at the bottom of this post. Feel free to leave your name and details or post anonymously, It's completely up to you.
My brother says there's a reason why people don't
illustrate poems until after they are
written and that my challenge is impossible...I reckon he's nearly right...but
not quite.
Link:
#drewapoem challenge
It’s time: a far off buzzing floats upon
ReplyDeleteThe shaping airs across a startled world
And, warmed by the faintest glow of rising sun
And sculptured by the inconsequential breeze,
The leafswarm lifts above ancestral trees
Following some destiny or fate or chance.
It starts in blood and, in that crimson dance,
The oft repeated story is unfurled
The Birthwood’s leafswarm curls above the morning
Shaped on that chilling and uncaring breeze;
It’s time. An ancient power fills the dawning
The lifestream trickles through the undergrowth
Seeking some purpose or identity or both
Whispering faintly of a future power
Seeking, where the naked woodlands tower,
An illusory safety beneath shadowless trees
The cord cannot be cut; it frees, and binds,
Her ribboned hair, her eyes upon her book.
That far off buzzing echoes in her mind,
Bulges to thunder as she starts to see
Her roots beneath, her path among the trees,
Stitches a sort of meaning from the storm
And in that meaning, freed from fears of harm
Coils unknowing to that turbid brook
That bleeds new dreams into an empty land
And dreams new darkness into crowded air,
The future is uncoiling from her hand
She speaks;her meanings tangled and unheard
The swarm inflames her senses, blocks her words
She must follow where the path unrolls
A path she only thinks that she controls
For in the end the book was always there.
Fab! Thank you for being the first to post.
DeleteIt came from nowhere, a trickle at first
ReplyDeleteAnd I watched as it thread its way through the shifting grasses
Towards barren forests.
Feeding life into silence,
Thoughts into minds
And warmth into veins
And I followed.
Through the past, buried deep beneath the trees,
Through white forests in darkness
Burned black on my retina,
Down rivers of fear
Springing delicate dreams
To the path through the woods
And I followed.
Then it coiled in my hand
And I weaved it a name
From the dreams I once had
and the life I once dreamed
Thinking now I shall lead,
I shall make my own path
And now it will follow...
But it lay lifeless and limp until it was freed
And I watched as it thread its path through the shifting grasses,
Towards shining forests
Of love and of laughter
Dancing bright in the moonlight
Towards unknown horizons.
And I followed.
Really like Emma's poem
ReplyDeleteMarche !
ReplyDeleteNe t'arrête pas !
Suis le fil de la vie dans la forêt des défis .
chaque arbre est une bataille
Chaque arbre est une victoire...
Plante ton avenir dans le profond de la Terre,
Nourris le du sang des rivières...
Un être passe,
un espoir s'envole,
un autre s'arrête.
Tu te perds peut être!
Mais ton chemin est là,
Il te mènera à moi ...
Béatrice
Ah un poéme Francais! Merci bien Béatrice, c'est fantastique et je l'aime!
DeleteSap from the still, silver trees
ReplyDeleteruns blood red.
Bark curls like skin from wounded knees.
The stillness belies the shrill whistle
of wind over the white ground and
a wisp of silent breath lifts the scarlet balloon
away to the thistles.
A soft silk satin sash
torn from Red Riding Hood's cape
twists and unfurls into
Delicate cupped hands of beautiful girl child.
Blue rippled water draws the ribbons down and on.
Little boy, rooted like a gnome,
watches enthralled
as the ribbon slithers
away.
Ooo...different again! Brilliant.
DeleteClass 2 - A 2 Class Village School. 10 children. A proud teacher.
ReplyDeleteMy Red Ribbon
My red ribbon wiggled through the taut trees.
Sun rises, colours, soft blue and buttercup yellow
Pour in a silent flood
bringing the calm hope of a new colourful day
My red ribbon got tangled in a tree.
It wove and curved and slithered
Towards apple trees
I can hear birds and leaves and branches shaking.
My red ribbon is twisted to a tall caring tree,
From the forest in the midnight sky
To a hidden hollow where we can hide.
The curls and curves are like ghostly trails
But the sunlight lights up its journey.
My red ribbon undulates through undergrowth
Through the dark trees,
Through the midnight sky
The grabbing roots devour,ed my poor suffocating ribbon.
My red ribbon is winding through the dark trees
with pointy green leaves
Twisting round and a round the silver bark
of the forgotten ones.
My red ribbon is in the water
glowing ruby red;
as red as a ladybird
as red as flower rows
as red as rosy cheeks...
My red ribbon is looping round the tree.
It is flying. It is wiggly.
Rap round the tree red ribbon...
My red ribbon twined around the trees
changing dimension, direction and speed
It meandered amongst the slim silver trees.
My red ribbon is cradled in my hand;
From deep underground to a tangle in my fingers.
A Swish past trees with speed, a glimpse of sunshine
and the torn bark softens.
My red ribbon blows in the breeze
Sweet sounds glint on eyes
I get closer
The sweet sounds get louder
Birds follow
I look to the right -
A field of buttercups.
I thought they was beautiful.
The forest was full of sun.
All the animals going home.
I found my my way home.
Wow...actually a bit smile-teary! No wonder you're proud! Your class write beautifully & their poem is wonderful. What a fantastic teacher you must be and how lucky they are. Thank you!
DeleteGrade that,ofsted,
DeleteIf you should ask whence came this story
ReplyDeleteWith its distant harsh beginnings
With its scarlet convolutions
With its joys and tribulations
With its mysteries and riddles
With its children in the forests?
I should answer I should tell you
From the cold light of the dawning
From the buzzing of the beehive
Over endless scarlet water
From the mystery behind us
To the mystery around us.
And if you should say, well why this story?
I would suppress my irritation
And patiently would answer thusly:-
For the memory, for the journey,
For the lives that went before us
And for children doomed to follow
For the wisdom born of anger
And the anger born of wisdom
For Eloise inquiring woodnymph
For Isaac more impish than elven
For the dawn of understanding
And if you should still continue
Asking , OK where's it going?
I would heave a sigh and tell you:-
Down the roads we all have followed
Through the forests and through darkness
Beneath the dreams that float above us
And above the thorns that threaten.
Following endless scarlet waters
From the mystery around us
To old beginnings and new endings
To the mysteries yet to come
And if you say , "What are those mysteries?"
Then finally I'll lose my temper
And purple now with indignation
Shout ,"can't you feel the wind behind you?
Don't you wonder what they're learning
Under rocks and in their stories?
Don't you hear the darkness buzzing?
Can't you see your dreams escaping?
Can't you see the pages turning?
Can't you see I'm playing scrabble.
Oh that made me laugh!
DeleteHiawatha, I know who you are & I love you.
Poem by Jamie Godsafe (twitter @Quernain)
ReplyDeleteTaken from my flickr set http://www.flickr.com/photos/naomiadams/sets/72157628870133083/comments/
& witten as part of the #drewapoem Challenge.
--------------------------------------
If you look out of the kitchen pane,
Stand on your tiptoes on a clear wintry day,
Across the fields lie two proud thickets,
Fed by a river of red flowing their way.
Pass me that book, it shows you the path,
See these photos, see this tall oak of a man,
And see this laughing willow just here,
The river of red, they were both in it’s plan.
You say you’re bored with nothing to do,
Sit down here for a while and breathe in this book,
Go back a page, can you see them now?
The river of passion flows in lovers looks.
One sweetheart reaches for another,
That warm look of love crosses the cold divide,
They break away and less becomes more,
Their river flows fast, free and swelling wide.
It started as a thin, stray, lost thread,
Buried deep in the roots of another time,
Other lovers forced to hide the truth,
An offering to propriety's stale shrine.
Escaping to a world of sunlight,
The thread meandered through the close-knit cabal,
Healing their wounds, opening their eyes,
Light touched the ground birthing a living canal.
A sapling came bursting with green life,
Filled the wasteland with branches spread wide and far,
A rich forest sprang from its raw source,
Its vibrancy burning like the brightest star.
It's bright luscious fruit soared high and low,
Berries like red balloons spread across the land,
Falling on tables of rich and poor,
And the river of red flowed from hand to hand.
Oak and Willow's seed flew with the wind,
And found fertile soil across the seven seas,
Canada, Australia, France too,
And many more welcomed their reviving breeze.
When you were born, tiny in my hands,
The river gushed around you, calling out loud,
Oak and Willow and forests of kin,
I give you Rowan rising from those roots ploughed.
When we played cat's cradle with red wool,
You were learning to hold what I was given,
Read this book and see you're not alone,
Through you these fallen trees will go on living.
Go play in the garden with the trees,
The red river waits under the grass and sees,
Like it did for me and your Granny,
Waiting for you to bring it seeds on a breeze.
If you look out of the kitchen pane,
Stand on your tiptoes on a clear wintry day,
Across the fields lie two proud thickets,
Fed by a river of red flowing their way.
No you can't see them, they are not there,
They will spring from your rowan tree yet still young,
Waiting for you to meet your own true oak,
And spread joy with who knows what children to come.
Look at that book, follow the red path,
Right to the last page with a photo of you,
See, you're never lonely like you think,
That river is always with you through and through.
Jamie...Thank you!
DeleteLoving everyone's poems...especially how each poem brings something different.
At the start of your life
ReplyDeleteHanging on by a thread
Unsure what's to happen
Heart full of dread
Then, out of the darkness
A glimmer of light
Follow the thread
Take charge of your flight
I've found the bodkin
I'm holding the key
A little girl reading
Balloons on the spree
Look out for the stream
I don't want to falter
Barbed wire to catch me
As well as the water
Help is at hand
In the shape of a boy
Twisting and turning
Heart filled with joy
He'll lead me to find
The end in a book.
My Nan's amazing. :)
ReplyDeleteShe is indeed!
DeleteThere's a path through the trees
ReplyDeleteTrailing hither and yon,
There's a path through your mind
There one minute and... gone!
There's a paths through the roots
Which flows through night and day,
You'll drift off down the river
Then float up and away.
This way through the wild wood
Is a path we all hold.
You weave your bit and then...
Someone else must be bold,
And walk their bit of path
However long it may be
So some other can discover
Their path through the trees.
Brilliant! Thank you.
DeleteA red path through the gloomy woods
ReplyDeleteThe trees are swaying, moved by the cold wind
The ribbon trail moves on.
From one wood to another.
Darker and darker as the trail
Moves onward and around.
A little girl sits leaning on a tree, reading a book.
I wonder what the book could be.
The ribbon curls like a snake,
Comes down in a circle,
Ties a bow
And on it goes.
Around a bend
And into a hole in a tree,
Under the roots whilst the trees keep swaying,
Out from the roots into a heart shaped forest
And stretching itself like a shoelace,
Into a lake, washing itself clean.
Up. Out, and balloons fly free
Into the mist.
Now the ribbon has been rolled and coiled
Into a ball cupped in two hands
Turning onward into a cat's cradle.
A little boy with yellow hair
Pokes the ribbon
The ribbon swirls itself into:
A mermaid,
A face,
A hand,
Seaweed,
And suddenly gone
Back to the book.
Eloise, I love you.
DeleteImagination is a wonderful thing
ReplyDeleteIt is as long or short as a piece of string
and maybe because this one is red
it has twisted and turned inside my head.
Oooh a short one! Like it!
DeleteThe seasons, like thread
ReplyDeleteTie Spring to Autumn to life
Birth then death then birth
My life,
ReplyDeleteit pulsed through my veins
and every pulse a journey,
a chance to experience.
an invitation to explore
an opportunity to be.
AE
really like these last two. Nice to see a haiku. Sonnet anyone?
ReplyDeleteAgreed. Very nice indeed!
DeleteI am absolutely loving this challenge.
Thought is a funny thing, capricious and free.
ReplyDeleteLeft unattended, it will chase through the trees.
It will dance in the shadows and leap through the air
(distracted in part by a little girl's hair.)
It will go unseen places in the roots of your brain
and be be unaffected by the wind and the rain.
It zigs this way and that way, ignores warp, and shuns weft:
Only the thought knows which path it finds best.
It'll jump in the waters and bob in the breeze,
wind through the woods just as free as you please.
Gathered together, it'll start to make sense...
until it springs loose of your hands and your fence.
"Be childlike in nature" the sages have said
"Take delight in your life and the path that you tread".
Let your thoughts lift you up, make you laugh, unconcerned -
May you dance with red ribbons til the final page turns.
Ed
Love it!
DeleteThere once was a ribbon that bended,
ReplyDeleteA metaphor wasn't intended.
It flowed beneath breezes
And under the treeses
And where it had started it ended.
Was not expecting a limerick! Thank you!
DeleteIn the forest,
ReplyDeleteFifty firs.
Fifty first,
my human years.
While through the woods
the water ran;
Red ribbon river,
bleeding bourne,
Through the skin,
Pale tributaries
Crimson cottons
in violet vein;
And a scarlet satin scarf,
wrapped itself round fifty firs,
tied together towering trees.
There will be no fifty two;
There will be no fifty three;
There is no ribbon left in me.
Crumbs! Darkest one yet...Brilliant!
DeleteA ribbon
ReplyDeleteRed, sinuous, seeking
Through a forest
Glade, field, clearing
For a child
Small, loving, kind
With a heart
Big, caring, innocent
A mother
Talented, loving, special
A father
Successful, loving, gentle
Two children
Sweet, loving, amazing
A sketchbook
Beautiful, evocative, delightful
- it starts with a ribbon.
Thank you Bridie. x
DeleteFrom unformed dreams the path unfolds and winds
ReplyDeleteitself between the trees of restless time.
The cord which feeds and frees bleeds life renewed;
New hope, new love, new tears, new stories twined
With sorrow tightly bound between each page.
The hum begins with distant beats that rise
And fall with flowing tides. The path is caught:
It writhes and twists as carried on this wave
Of sound it searches out some small retreat.
Dives deep below the ground to dance alone.
But no: Above, beneath, the trees are there.
The path is stitched in time and weaves itself
Around, between dark totems tall and wise,
To streams of conscience weeping, wild and raw
until, at last renewed it springs and swells.
And in the dark the lifethread burns its path
Between the trees of restless time once more.
The past wound tightly, bound and balled, breaks free
To coil itself a cradle from the beat
Of distant songs and whispered fears entwined.
Then from the pulsing throb of formless dreams
A new lifesong cries out new hope, new tears.
The yarn unwinds and folds itself between
New trees. It curls and dances in the changing breeze.
A new dream bound between each turning page.
This is a place you can call home
ReplyDeleteSpend some time and be alone
Be at one with yourself
This is great for your health
No one to tell you what to do
Only nature and you
No streets and cars
Where you can be alone with the stars
Its time to walk beneath the trees
And walk amongst the leaves.
Thanks Jimmy!
DeleteDid someone ask for a sonnet?
ReplyDeleteCan you see where I've been my dream bound love?
Feel life pulsing through me, reckless and free?
Hear the trees calling the night sky above?
Roots bound to the earth as you are to me .
Two lives stitched together our paths entwined,
Wet from the rivers of hope and despair.
Thorns tear the ribbons of love as they bind
Us, our paths sewn into the mindight air.
Don't ask where the thread leads to my lover
Its truth unravelling into the dawn.
Hear the trees whisper lies to each other,
Illusions so real and perfectly drawn...
I must wake once more from these shining trees
And you my sweet friend who the morning frees.
A red ribbon binds us all to the world
ReplyDeleteWith each atom bound to the distant stars
It winds round the past as our future unfurls
And it cuts leaving deep and invisible scars.
With each atom bound to the distant stars
Our lifesong calls out to the blackness above
And it cuts leaving deep and invisible scars
As we search for a purpose, for life & for love.
Our lifesong calls out to the blackness above
The answer though simple is hard to be found
As we search for a purpose, for life and love...
But living and loving is purpose abound.
The answer though simple is hard to be found
It winds round our past as the future unfurls
But living and loving is purpose abound
It's the ribbon which binds us all to the world.
I don't have a poem for you, but I would like to say that your sketchbook knocks me off my socks. I really love it and I can't wait to see it in real in the arthouse library!
ReplyDeleteThank you! Very glad you like it...Love your stuff too. Have fun in NY!
DeleteHi Naomi,
ReplyDeleteYour book was the last book I saw as I tried to get as many books as possible through the Sketchbook Project library at Canada Water. It was my favourite. I came to your website this evening and found your challenge asking for your illustrative poem to be given a voice.
Here's my little version of what it spoke to me.
Pulling at my heartstrings
nestling me in
a voice with no words
between us no void
Into a black hole
where love overflows
from hence the wind blows
to places unknown
in whose hands it is sown
entangling their souls
dissolving, unseen
unwritten, these words from the trees.
Hope you like it.
I'd love to share the poem to your sketchbook on my facebook fanpage- Sandhya Speaks.
Loved it and hope to speak again :)
Thank you! I'm so glad you liked my illustrations and I love your poem, it's wonderful! Please do feel free to share...and thank you again.
Delete