Vanessa Shields's Blog, page 4

Poem 10 – We the Mourners

Ten, ten, scoot to the end…for the newest stanza!

We the Mourners

We the mourners
roam the land
a planet-sized graveyard
witnessing the body as tombstone
inclined toward the sharp knife of
Love’s lapidarian urges
etching Time wounds
into our skin –
urging the most tears

We the mourners
swallow the sour spaces
between right & wrong
holding the knowledge
of their folly – fools alive
enough to write songs
poems plays paintings
in the lush language of loss
of lust of legends – heads
bowed into palm-praying
hands throats humming

We the mourners
take pride in the stride
of the single falling tear
in the animal-gutteral growls
of the multi-breathed sob
in the rib-shaking depth of the
long-winded wail
cry weep bawl – we bowl
our bodies into the sacred
howls of healing

We the mourners
are bodies built
trench-laden & weaponed
for the onslaught of wars
unceasing on land
in sky in water in
mind in flesh gushing
bloods deviant with
DNA unleashed since
the First Body bloomed
– we weapon with Love

We the mourners
do not forget the first light
the second dark & all the
colourful shadows between
– fiery & untimed unnamed
do not forget before Before
when the body tingled after
flights stardust-drowned
delirious determined
to omit its genesis

We the mourners
strum the nervous system
into freedom – braiding
fight flight freeze zingy
nettles embrace
stinging fingertips
lips bloodied
elegant & ebullient

We the mourners
continue the chants
benedicted protectors
our knees so swollen
we are double-capped
cradled in earth’s
dancing dust –
praising we choir

We the mourners
clutch the One True Prayer
that begins with
the sprawling what if
and never ends
Oh we bead the voices
of the dead lift them
seeding back to the sky

We the mourners
move among you
slip under tongues
rage under ribs
hover over hearts
contaminate your rituals
of goodbye with the
staining ink of memory
sew them to the souls
of the next bodies to Be

We the mourners
engage with our voices
we give your our faces
we listen with our bodies
we answer the calls
we respond to emails
we talk through texts
we post, we comment
we like, we share on the
Love-net that is human
to human interaction
we do not have cell
phones or laptops or
computers – we have
each other we have you
we patience we kind
we hold we carry
we here, we hear
we you, you, you

Double Yay!

This just in…

Oh, what a feeling to open an email with this wonderful and exciting news! A flash fiction (under 1,000 word fiction story) is moving on to the finalist round! Many thanks to Karen R and Penny-Anne B for sharing this very cool writing website ‘Women on Writing’ to me…I’ve been submitting consistently, and this is my first finalist possibility! I’ll let you know what happens…!

I’ll be at Devonshire Mall Indigo with CM Forest, Elly Blake and Ben Van Dongen for an engaging author panel and meet & greet! Now…I know that we’re all very committed to supporting local businesses, including our favourite bookshops, but I can tell you that this Indigo is selling my books on consignment which means a) this is a way I can sell out-of-print books at the store and b) I have the opportunity to make money if the book(s) sells in the store. At the ‘local’, on-the-ground level, both this Chapters/Indigo and the Lakeshore Indigo have been very supportive of local writers. The management is inviting and helpful, and they have always said yes to book signings. So, I’m grateful for this! Hope to see you there!

And one more thing…

Thank you to Mary-Jo R for introducing me to May Sarton, poet, novelist, essayist, and diarist.

I’m reading ‘Journal of a Solitude’ and it’s killing me ever so softly. Sarton’s words are tearing open my heart and crawling inside. Oof. It’s incredible.

I also just finished…

A wild jaunt into several mysteries threaded together via drawings….very cool.

And I’m reading…

This is the latest instalment from brilliant Canadian writer, Jane Christmas. She’s writing under a pseudonym for this fiction masterpiece: Elizabeth Braithwaite. Please take a minute to visit Jane’s website and find out why she decided to use a pseudonym...and self-pub after decades of success in the traditional publishing world. Jane and I go waaaay back. I interviewed her when I was writing for The Lance student newspaper at the University of Windsor (circa 1999/2000!). We became fast friends, and she’s been a light in my writing career for decades, including working with me on a mentorship! Thank you, Jane!

And…I also finished this….

A stunning, heartbreaking, profound fictionalization about Peggy Guggenheim, extraordinary woman ahead of her time! This book is written by Canadian writer Rebecca Godfrey, who passed away before the book was published…so a collective of friends with Leslie Jamison at the helm, finished the book posthumously. I swear, Rebecca’s soul is woven into each bit of ink in each word in every book. I held this story to my heart for a long time when I finished reading…feeling the loss of a brilliant writer…and the power of legacy in storytelling that books give us.

What are you reading?

Poem 9 – We the Mourners

Nine, nine, is so fine!

We the Mourners

We the mourners 
roam the land
a planet-sized graveyard
witnessing the body as tombstone
inclined toward the sharp knife of
Love’s lapidarian urges
etching Time wounds 
into our skin –
urging the most tears

We the mourners
swallow the sour spaces
between right & wrong
holding the knowledge 
of their folly – fools alive
enough to write songs 
poems plays paintings
in the lush language of loss
of lust of legends – heads
bowed into palm-praying
hands throats humming

We the mourners
take pride in the stride
of the single falling tear
in the animal-gutteral growls
of the multi-breathed sob
in the rib-shaking depth of the
long-winded wail
cry weep bawl – we bowl
our bodies into the sacred
howls of healing

We the mourners
are bodies built 
trench-laden & weaponed
for the onslaught of wars
unceasing on land
in sky in water in
mind in flesh gushing
bloods deviant with 
DNA unleashed since
the First Body bloomed
– we weapon with Love

We the mourners
do not forget the first light
the second dark & all the
colourful shadows between 
– fiery & untimed unnamed
do not forget before Before 
when the body tingled after
flights stardust-drowned
delirious   determined 
to omit its genesis

We the mourners
strum the nervous system
into freedom – braiding
fight flight freeze zingy
nettles embrace 
stinging fingertips
lips bloodied
elegant & ebullient 

We the mourners
continue the chants
benedicted protectors
our knees so swollen
we are double-capped
cradled in earth’s 
dancing dust –
praising we choir

We the mourners
clutch the One True Prayer
that begins with
the sprawling what if
and never ends
Oh we bead the voices
of the dead lift them 
seeding back to the sky

We the mourners
move among you
slip under tongues
rage under ribs
hover over hearts
contaminate your rituals
of goodbye with the 
staining ink of memory
sew them to the souls
of the next bodies to Be

Poem 8 – We the Mourners

Stanza 8 – here you go!

We the Mourners

We the mourners
roam the land
a planet-sized graveyard
witnessing the body as tombstone
inclined toward the sharp knife of
Love’s lapidarian urges
etching Time wounds
into our skin –
urging the most tears

We the mourners
swallow the sour spaces
between right & wrong
holding the knowledge
of their folly – fools alive
enough to write songs
poems plays paintings
in the lush language of loss
of lust of legends – heads
bowed into palm-praying
hands throats humming

We the mourners
take pride in the stride
of the single falling tear
in the animal-gutteral growls
of the multi-breathed sob
in the rib-shaking depth of the
long-winded wail
cry weep bawl – we bowl
our bodies into the sacred
howls of healing

We the mourners
are bodies built
trench-laden & weaponed
for the onslaught of wars
unceasing on land
in sky in water in
mind in flesh gushing
bloods deviant with
DNA unleashed since
the First Body bloomed
– we weapon with Love

We the mourners
do not forget the first light
the second dark & all the
colourful shadows between
– fiery & untimed unnamed
do not forget before Before
when the body tingled after
flights stardust-drowned
delirious determined
to omit its genesis

We the mourners
strum the nervous system
into freedom – braiding
fight flight freeze zingy
nettles embrace
stinging fingertips
lips bloodied
elegant & ebullient

We the mourners
continue the chants
benedicted protectors
our knees so swollen
we are double-capped
cradled in earth’s
dancing dust –
praising we choir

We the mourners
clutch the One True Prayer
that begins with
the sprawling what if
and never ends
Oh we bead the voices
of the dead lift them
seeding back to the sky

Poem 7 – We the Mourners

Onward – stanza 7!

We the Mourners

We the mourners
roam the land
a planet-sized graveyard
witnessing the body as tombstone
inclined toward the sharp knife of
Love’s lapidarian urges
etching Time wounds
into our skin –
urging the most tears

We the mourners
swallow the sour spaces
between right & wrong
holding the knowledge
of their folly – fools alive
enough to write songs
poems plays paintings
in the lush language of loss
of lust of legends – heads
bowed into palm-praying
hands throats humming

We the mourners
take pride in the stride
of the single falling tear
in the animal-gutteral growls
of the multi-breathed sob
in the rib-shaking depth of the
long-winded wail
cry weep bawl – we bowl
our bodies into the sacred
howls of healing

We the mourners
are bodies built
trench-laden & weaponed
for the onslaught of wars
unceasing on land
in sky in water in
mind in flesh gushing
bloods deviant with
DNA unleashed since
the First Body bloomed
– we weapon with Love

We the mourners
do not forget the first light
the second dark & all the
colourful shadows between
– fiery & untimed unnamed
do not forget before Before
when the body tingled after
flights stardust-drowned
delirious determined
to omit its genesis

We the mourners
strum the nervous system
into freedom – braiding
fight flight freeze zingy
nettles embrace
stinging fingertips
lips bloodied
elegant & ebullient

We the mourners
continue the chants
benedicted protectors
our knees so swollen
we are double-capped
cradled in earth’s
dancing dust –
praising we choir

Poem 6 – We the Mourners

Stanza six comin’ at ya!

We the Mourners

We the mourners
roam the land
a planet-sized graveyard
witnessing the body as tombstone
inclined toward the sharp knife of
Love’s lapidarian urges
etching Time wounds
into our skin –
urging the most tears

We the mourners
swallow the sour spaces
between right & wrong
holding the knowledge
of their folly – fools alive
enough to write songs
poems plays paintings
in the lush language of loss
of lust of legends – heads
bowed into palm-praying
hands throats humming

We the mourners
take pride in the stride
of the single falling tear
in the animal-gutteral growls
of the multi-breathed sob
in the rib-shaking depth of the
long-winded wail
cry weep bawl – we bowl
our bodies into the sacred
howls of healing

We the mourners
are bodies built
trench-laden & weaponed
for the onslaught of wars
unceasing on land
in sky in water in
mind in flesh gushing
bloods deviant with
DNA unleashed since
the First Body bloomed
– we weapon with Love

We the mourners
do not forget the first light
the second dark & all the
colourful shadows between
– fiery & untimed unnamed
do not forget before Before
when the body tingled after
flights stardust-drowned
delirious determined
to omit its genesis

We the mourners
strum the nervous system
into freedom – braiding
fight flight freeze zingy
nettles embrace
stinging fingertips
lips bloodied
elegant & ebullient

(w/ inspiration from Cassie Caverhill in this stanza! Thanks Cassie!)

Poem 5 – We the Mourners

Stanza five! Look alive!

We the Mourners

We the mourners
roam the land
a planet-sized graveyard
witnessing the body as tombstone
inclined toward the sharp knife of
Love’s lapidarian urges
etching Time wounds
into our skin –
urging the most tears

We the mourners
swallow the sour spaces
between right & wrong
holding the knowledge
of their folly – fools alive
enough to write songs
poems plays paintings
in the lush language of loss
of lust of legends – heads
bowed into palm-praying
hands throats humming

We the mourners
take pride in the stride
of the single falling tear
in the animal-gutteral growls
of the multi-breathed sob
in the rib-shaking depth of the
long-winded wail
cry weep bawl – we bowl
our bodies into the sacred
howls of healing

We the mourners
are bodies built
trench-laden & weaponed
for the onslaught of wars
unceasing on land
in sky in water in
mind in flesh gushing
bloods deviant with
DNA unleashed since
the First Body bloomed
– we weapon with Love

We the mourners
do not forget the first light
the second dark & all the
colourful shadows between
– fiery & untimed unnamed
do not forget before Before
when the body tingled after
flights stardust-drowned
delirious determined
to omit its genesis

Poem 4 – We the Mourners

Long poem continued…new stanza #4!

We the Mourners

We the mourners
roam the land
a planet-sized graveyard
witnessing the body as tombstone
inclined toward the sharp knife of
Love’s lapidarian urges
etching Time wounds
into our skin –
urging the most tears

We the mourners
swallow the sour spaces
between right & wrong
holding the knowledge
of their folly – fools alive
enough to write songs
poems plays paintings
in the lush language of loss
of lust of legends – heads
bowed into palm-praying
hands throats humming

We the mourners
take pride in the stride
of the single falling tear
in the animal-gutteral growls
of the multi-breathed sob
in the rib-shaking depth of the
long-winded wail
cry weep bawl – we bowl
our bodies into the sacred
howls of healing

We the mourners
are bodies built
trench-laden & weaponed
for the onslaught of wars
unceasing on land
in sky in water in
mind in flesh gushing
bloods deviant with
DNA unleashed since
the First Body bloomed
– we weapon with Love

Poem 3 – We The Mourners

We the Mourners – long poem continued. Look to the last stanza…that’s the newest one added!

We the mourners
roam the land
a planet-sized graveyard
witnessing the body as tombstone
inclined toward the sharp knife of
Love’s lapidarian urges
etching Time wounds
into our skin –
urging the most tears

We the mourners
swallow the sour spaces
between right & wrong
holding the knowledge
of their folly – fools alive
enough to write songs
poems plays paintings
in the lush language of loss
of lust of legends – heads
bowed into palm-praying
hands throats humming

We the mourners
take pride in the stride
of the single falling tear
in the animal-gutteral growls
of the multi-breathed sob
in the rib-shaking depth of the
long-winded wail
cry weep bawl – we bowl
our bodies into the sacred
howls of healing

April is National Poetry Month!

Poem a day for the month! I missed yesterday…the first came flying in like a quick joke!

I’m going to try a long poem…so stanzas shared each day, but all belonging to one long piece. You get a two-fer today!

We The Mourners

We the mourners
roam the land
a planet-sized graveyard
witnessing the body as tombstone
inclined toward the sharp knife of
Love’s lapidarian urges
etching Time wounds
into our skin –
urging the most tears

We the mourners
swallow the sour spaces
between right & wrong
holding the knowledge
of their folly – fools alive
enough to write songs
poems plays paintings
in the lush language of loss
of lust of legends – heads
bowed into palm-praying
hands throats humming