Sunday Whirling: A Poem

20 May

Another enjoyable weekend writing to a wordle list. Brenda and The Sunday Whirl have given us words from three different poems. For the links to read the poems and to read what others have written from this wordle, head over to The Whirl.

I enjoyed this even more than usual. When I first wrote the words down, I wasn’t sure what would come. The body parts threw me, yet they are what led me into the poem. The rhythm isn’t quite there. My ear tells me the second stanza needs reworking. If you note other stuff, feel free to tell me!

pulled for revision

Have a lovely Sunday everyone. Happy reading and writing.


Posted by on 20/05/2012 in exercises, poetry, writing


Tags: , ,

48 responses to “Sunday Whirling: A Poem

  1. Mary

    20/05/2012 at 9:25 am

    Ah, Margo, wonderful wordling. My poem went somewhat in the same direction as yours did. I do believe that if people can get out and soak in that beauty of nature, as symbolized by the crocuses it can lift one’s spirits! My nemesis words were ‘hips’ and ‘marrow.’ Hands, not so much!

    • margo roby

      20/05/2012 at 9:30 am

      Thank you, Mary. You are right, hands would have been fine. The other two… especially hips! And, I agree with you about nature. I wish there were some way that families, friends, partners, could learn that sometimes just taking someone to a place of natural beauty and sitting can go a long way towards healing. The natural place can be a backyard even.

  2. Kathleen Kirk

    20/05/2012 at 9:36 am

    I love this:

    a massive stillness as jarring
    as the clatter of plates.

    The surprise of the sounds at the end of the stanza! And somehow the legs and hips prepared me for the massive stillness. I love how the body holds the grief; that, too, is natural and provides evidence in stanza 2 of the “inward” claim in stanza 1. So I love the body parts in your poem!

    Then, yes, get the body outdoors via stanza 3–the color of the flower!

    • margo roby

      20/05/2012 at 9:42 am

      Thank you, Kathleen. I have become fond of the body parts myself πŸ™‚

  3. Daydreamertoo

    20/05/2012 at 9:42 am

    A lovely read, whether you pondered over the second stanza or not. I also agree that being with nature is such a wonderful healer of many things which ail.

    • margo roby

      20/05/2012 at 10:11 am

      ddt, One of the best things about where we live is that I get to stare out into the tops of several maples. I spend a large part of my day stopped and looking out πŸ™‚

  4. vivinfrance

    20/05/2012 at 9:52 am

    I really like this Margo , despite the well-drawn sadness. The wordle words disappeared, buried by your skill. You have set a strong rhythm, which raises expectations that it will carry on, and yes, there are tiny bumpy bits in stanza 2, easily dealt with – the words I have put in are simply go indicate where you need extra syllables

    in her right hand and her left,
    through her legs and ON? her hips,
    running with her blood and in
    her marrow, where HER? grief resides,
    a massive stillness ALMOST? as jarring
    as the SUNDAY LUNCHTIME? clatter of plates.

    ViV x

    • margo roby

      20/05/2012 at 10:12 am

      I was hoping the rhythm-meister would help. Thank you, ViV. For a while, I had a sonnet going, but then went in a different direction.

  5. brenda w

    20/05/2012 at 10:10 am

    Viv’s ideas for stanza two work to build/continue the rhythm. I LOVE how you make stillness jarring like the clatter of plates.

    • margo roby

      20/05/2012 at 10:41 am

      Thank you, Brenda. That may be my favourite bit of imagery.

  6. magicalmysticalteacher

    20/05/2012 at 10:20 am

    I hope she finds the window…

    Whirling Haiku and Senryu

  7. whimsygizmo

    20/05/2012 at 10:41 am

    This is just mournfully lovely, Margo. There was something about these words, wasn’t there? Mine had a sad edge, too.

    I especially love these lines:
    “She feels loss everywhere,
    in her right hand and her left,
    through her legs and her hips,
    running with her blood and in
    her marrow, where grief resides,
    a massive stillness as jarring
    as the clatter of plates.”

    That phrase, “where grief resides.” Oh, it does indeed take up residence, doesn’t it. My.

    • margo roby

      20/05/2012 at 11:33 am

      There is something, de. Some of my poems become favoured children very quickly. I think this may be one. Stephen King says to worry if we like lines or phrases too much!

  8. Veronica Roth

    20/05/2012 at 10:49 am

    Hi Margo,
    What a beautifully sad and moving piece; almost had me in tears this morning. I tend to write poetry like this. For me it works better in free verse with each line a whole and quiet desperate thought. My brain fights against the structure and I want to read it like this:

    She feels loss everywhere,
    in her right hand and her left,
    through her legs and her hips,
    running with her blood
    and in her marrow where grief resides,
    a massive stillness
    as jarring as the clatter of plates.

    But that’s only me and my comfort zone.

    • margo roby

      20/05/2012 at 11:36 am

      Ooooh…! That, Veronica, was my exact sound when I finished reading your lining. I love the last three lines and am on my way to make a change in my files. You won’t see it here, because I have never figured out whether changes I make mean more emails in subcriber’s boxes! But, the poem now reads as you suggest. Thank you.

  9. Diane Belleville

    20/05/2012 at 2:59 pm

    Lovely piece from the wordl, Margo…

  10. barbara

    20/05/2012 at 2:59 pm

    I love this, Margo. Especially the “in her right hand and her left” stanza.

    • margo roby

      20/05/2012 at 4:01 pm

      Sometimes, Barbara, I swear, my brain sits near my ear and whispers lines. I know as they come out that they sound right.

  11. JulesPaige

    20/05/2012 at 3:30 pm

    Nicely wordled ma’am. I think we all shall be trying to find just the right place to put that pesky word ‘grief’.
    I’ve posted this effort:

    Also not sure why but when I tried to link to you through the Sunday Whirl Google shouted at me that your site might have unsafe content. So I back tracked and came a different way to read you. Google didn’t give me any hiccups coming through the comment connect through your e-mail.
    I did try a couple of other links through Mr. Linky and they didn’t come up with that warning. Not sure how you’d check any unsafe content that may have gotten onto your site page, but I thought you should know anyway.

  12. margo roby

    20/05/2012 at 4:03 pm

    My site is safe, Jules but I have a couple of unusual sites following me. I wonder if that is bothering Google. No telling. I have never understood quite how the warning thing works. Thanks for letting me know. The only link I have is to The Whirl.

    I’ll come over and read yours.

  13. 1sojournal

    20/05/2012 at 4:40 pm

    Margo, in your comment to Barb, you spoke of how sometimes your brain sits near your ear and whispers lines. I know that reality. Love when some of the words immediately jostle themselves onto the page, look me in the eye and say, “Hey, this is where and how I belong. The rest of these silly mates are your problem.” Liked the clatter of plates.


    • margo roby

      20/05/2012 at 4:58 pm

      Elizabeth, I’m laughing at the image of a bunch of words standing with hands on hips staring us down. Thank you.

  14. Walt Wojtanik

    20/05/2012 at 6:04 pm

    Your words waltz across Walt’s screen; an enticing dance of wordled wonder.

    • margo roby

      20/05/2012 at 7:39 pm

      Walt, I love it when you play. Thank you, sir!

  15. pmwanken

    20/05/2012 at 7:31 pm

    …oh, margo…

  16. wordsandthoughtspjs

    20/05/2012 at 9:19 pm

    I love everything about this poem, but the first stanza made stop and think. I like that, Margo.

    Busy day here, just now getting round to read …

    • margo roby

      21/05/2012 at 7:52 am

      Pamela, this group of words seems to have produced a few stop and think pieces. Thank you for the comment!

      Summer is almost here…


  17. Marianne

    20/05/2012 at 10:14 pm

    “A massive stillness as jarring as the clatter of plates” is such a great line, Margo! Your first stanza is really powerful, pulled me right in.

    • margo roby

      21/05/2012 at 7:53 am

      Thank you, Marianne. I appreciate that.

  18. Hannah Gosselin

    21/05/2012 at 12:07 am

    Hi there, Margo!! I really like how you’ve placed these words!!

    “She wants, she needs, to find
    the place where grief resides
    like some weighty secret,
    to open a window that might
    allow it to slip out,”

    I enjoy the idea of grief being a physical/ touchable thing that you can see leaving through the window.

    Great writing!

    • margo roby

      21/05/2012 at 7:54 am

      Thank you, Hannah. In some ways, I think grief is like that.

      • Hannah Gosselin

        21/05/2012 at 8:14 am

        You’re welcome, Margo and I agree, grief can be super dense to the point of seeing a heavy energy.

  19. Irene

    21/05/2012 at 6:04 am

    Hey Margo, we went with grief. Yes the second stanza could be overstating though it ends well. I had initial problems with “hips”, “massive” and “marrow”.

    • margo roby

      21/05/2012 at 7:55 am

      Irene, that is helpful, the overstating bit. I’m already reworking!

  20. Cheryl's Excellent Adventure

    21/05/2012 at 12:57 pm

    I started going in the grief mode too but I wasn’t happy with what she would be grieving over so erased that and decided she should grieve Spring’s short duration. I like what you did with the words. Just a heads up on something-my computer alerted me that your page has insecure content on it. I don’t know why, sorry.

  21. markwindham

    21/05/2012 at 2:51 pm

    hmm, we seem to have been channeling each other…very similar in theme, at least one identical phrase…yours feels and ends more hopeful than mine though, Mr Darky over here.

    Being a fan of ‘shorter, my first thought was to turn the second and third stanzas into three. — reading again — now thinking four. I like it though, only comment is the repetition of ‘where grief resides’. you tell us where it is, and then that she is looking for it. I like the idea of the secret escaping out the window, maybe jumble up the words in that stanza… ok, i’m done. πŸ™‚

    • margo roby

      21/05/2012 at 3:54 pm

      Mark, Smarty. I do that don’t I? Would ‘reach’ instead of ‘find’ work better? I’ll play with the cut up machine and see where it gets me and with several stanzas and see how it sounds. I love being given things to play with πŸ™‚

      Reading several of the poems I felt a sense of deja vu!

  22. tmhHoover

    22/05/2012 at 2:07 am

    I could handle the grief- it was massive that did me in.You brought all the words together perfectly. Thank you for keeping an eye out for me-I will look into Joseph Harker’s prompt and continue to let myself marinate with the possibilities.

    • margo roby

      22/05/2012 at 7:44 am

      Teri, massive is tough, because it’s so, well… massive. I am so glad there is someone else marinating. I spend a lot of time doing that.

  23. Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

    22/05/2012 at 2:41 am

    I like yours better than mine, though I enjoyed writing one as well. The words suggested something melancholy and you captured it well. Thank you for listing so many wonderful links here. Will be visiting again.

    • margo roby

      22/05/2012 at 7:47 am

      Welcome, Jo Ann. Thank you for the comment. Part of the being able to capture some of the emotion is that I am 59. I find it easier to look at and write about emotions, at this point. The links are my pleasure. I look forward to seeing you again.

      • Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

        23/05/2012 at 3:59 am

        I am almost 49 so you only have me by ten years. I found these words conjured an emotional response for me. I really like the poem I wrote too, it has a surreal quality that I don’t often reach. Some prompts work better than others, I guess.

        • margo roby

          23/05/2012 at 7:32 am

          Jo Ann, Those ten years make a surprising difference. It is only in the past couple that I see and understand emotions with great clarity.

          Absolutely re prompts. There are so many good ones out there and so few my brain says Yes! to.

  24. Tumblewords

    24/05/2012 at 3:04 pm

    A thoughtful and intriguing poem. I quite enjoyed the read…


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