An exquisite corpse from the writers at the C. D. Wright Women Writer’s Conference 2017.
by the Arkana Staff
On November 3 and 4, Arkana was excited to have a table at the inaugural C. D. Wright Women Writer’s Conference book fair. We asked visitors to our table to write a few lines of poetry on “leaves” of green paper, which we then put on the bare branches of our “Poet-Tree”. Later, these lines of poetry were compiled by members of our staff to form an exquisite corpse poem.
Enjoy the following poem by the writers at the C. D. Wright Women Writer’s Conference!
I am nothing but a rope of smoke
Tied around the stars
Why be loved like the sun, only craved when I’m gone
Unbridled intensity–cut it off before I burn
There was wrong, and there was left
Will you? Will you listen. And if I were beautiful, would you recognize my scent? Would you memorize
She took a dress and went that way
She was the kindest form of chaos
We want for no one we hold on to everyone. To remember is our lot in life–the everyday woman
He heals all but the hidden wounds
And what is it meant to be, only beautiful in writing and austerity?
I write because I think I think because I can
I write before I die I love before I hate
Be a leader, in a world ever changing, hold up the victories, hold up the heartbeats, hold up each other
Nothing ever really dies, you know?
Crash upon the earth with the brown leaves of time
Too humid for fall
The leaves are falling, carried on great gusts of wind- like red crispy snow
The sweet stickiness of a November thunderstorm
Wipers swish over wet windows
The fog rolled over her misting
Beware the stinging ladybugs of Arkansas
The imitation of her magic, the arduous donation of the scarf, the veil, the necklace around her throat
Mimosa, Chocolate, or Kerosene?
I walked down the old lane and questioned choices made before my knees started aching. Then I thought of dragons & fairies and pirates with long hair gleaming in the sun. And I forgot, and choices were good again.
Do you hear my hum of bees
wax of words
the honeyed seas salt of my last waking thought
I could only speak for myself
The Green Ocean that you can never hold your head above. While sitting in that ocean you are always waiting for that moment that you sink. You gasp for air while your head bobs in and out. Then you’re gone.
Where water is still it will deepen.
I must learn to live my own, carve the lesson in my bones. When I stand before my own gods, I must stand there all alone.