Maureen Thorson’s NaPoWriMo prompt: “The surrealist painters Remedios Varo and Leonora Carrington moved to Mexico during the height of World War II, where they began a life-long friendship. Today, we’d like to challenge you to write a poem themed around friendship, with imagery or other ideas taken from a painting by Carrington, and a painting by Varo.”
Robert Lee Brewer’s Poem-a-Day prompt: “write a city poem. The poem can take place in a big city, medium-sized city, smaller city. Heck, towns, villages, hamlets, etc., all work as well. Ghost towns? Why not?”
Mixed the prompts again . . . the poem is set in a city, which I happen to be visiting today. I did alter the NaPoWriMo prompt; it refers to one of the two painters' works but doesn't focus on the theme of friendship. Nevertheless, an ekphrastic poem as suggested by the prompt.
The Dragon’s Secret
—curtal sonnet
In the fair city of Rochester, Minn.,
the water tower is a giant ear
of corn . . . at least that’s what they say it is.
At the ear’s base, the husk is a dragon
with green wings, and the kernels of corn are
its gold hoard. But when a tornado spins
into town and folks are in their basements,
Dragon shapeshifts to a woman of fire,
just like in The Call by Remedios
Varo. After the storm, her red vestments
turn back green. No one wise.
—Draft by Vince Gotera [Do not copy or quote . . . thanks.]
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| Ear of Corn Water Tower (my photo) |
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Remedios Varo, The Call (1961) |
Alan's poem today not only merges the prompts, he gets the NaPoWriMo prompt complete! A really marvelous ekphrastic poem.
Varo’s Flautist and Carrington’s
Pleasant Lady of the Tarot Visit the
Yee Haw Brewery in Johnson City
It would have to be on a Tuesday night,
when local musicians jam old-time music
and muted baseball plays on giant screens
around the room. She takes a seat
on a leather sofa, the lower half of her body
resting her second head on the worn carpet.
Her full skirt prevents anyone
from asking how she came into the place,
whether she has secret ghost legs
or if she suddenly appeared without our realizing it,
or if her companion this evening, the flautist,
may have facilitated her arrival. The flautist
sits and fidgets—he does not care for the strings,
the seeming repetition of the same melodies,
the musicians’ mutual affection that detracts
from their concentration on their peasant tunes
drawn by tension and plucking,
not the spirit of breath seeking its own escape.
She picks at the oversized pretzel, her paired
hands joined two to a wrist, until I
understand that she cannot reach her own mouth.
The flautist knows to pinch two morsels,
place a bit on each tongue, and look away
as the lower head chews and blanches in its
attempt to swallow against gravity.
Some children stare until their parents,
feeling shame, draw them away and neglect
to apologize to both heads. One of our fiddlers
recognizes her and attempts to speak to her
in Spanish, but her smile in reply
only angers the flautist, who would have her eat
and fall asleep, and wait until
the brewery has closed to bid her his goodbye.
—Draft by Thomas Alan Holmes [Do not copy or quote . . . thanks.]
Friends, won’t you comment, please? Love to know what you’re thinking. Thanks!
Ingat, everyone. ヅ |
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1 comment:
That water tower is awesome! I enjoyed how you both blended the surreal into these poems. Mine for today was less surreal and actually focused on the friendship of the two artists, but I uised the same painting as Vince for my inspiration.
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