1
Winter willows throw
dramatic and distorted
geometric shapes.
2
Naked trunks
rise cracking from brittle grass,
shedding frost and ice.
3
Intricate lace
of charcoal branches is pinned
to pale winter skies.
4
Lemon catkins, wriggling
with new growth and warmth,
anticipate spring.
5
Tousled corkscrews
are teased into a tangle,
wind-willowed.
6
Leaves shaped like lances
kink and curl, flashing silver
in the summer breeze.
7
Dishevelled willows
framed in the study window
squiggle with van Gogh brushstrokes.
8
Shades of green shift
in an interplay of light
and willow shadow.
9
Yellow curls spiral,
drifting in the green shallows
of the cold garden.
10
Shrivelling willow leaves
smears of buttery yellow
melting in the mud.
11
Devoid of leaves
willows reach out their branches
horizontally.
12
In their nakedness,
willows twist this way and that,
a web of twigs.
© Kim M. Russell, 2016
My response to dVerse Poets Pub: Meeting the bar as a cubist poet
Björn is our host today with an arty challenge. He started by telling us about cubism, in which artists break the concept of perspective and split a picture into simplified objects with clear borders in between. This can be applied to poetry and Björn has given examples of two poets: Gertrude Stein, with her book Tender Buttons, and Wallace Stevens’ with ‘Thirteen ways of looking at the blackbird‘.
Björn has asked us to select a simple object (or a common concept) and write several poems that look at the object from different perspectives, such as such as being placed in a small narrative, at different times of day or in different seasons. We should then organise the small poems in a way that creates contrasts while at the same time maintaining the coherence of a complete poem.
This is so beautiful, and I love the little scenes you have created around the willow, forming a clear line throughout your separate poems… so wonderful as a unity, beauty by themselves…
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Thank you, Björn . I was worried I’d got the wrong end of the (willow) stick!
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There is nothing truly wrong here… just being inspired is what counts…
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🙂
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I love these willows, with their corkscrew forms. All the vignettes make a wonderful whole.
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I have two in my garden – an original one and its off-shoot. I love them almost as much as my cats!
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Well, this dozen three-liners blew my socks off. You have captured all the seasons it seems, juxtaposing & mixing them up liberally–yet producing a finite impression, an an exsquite portrait of plant love. I love stanza II /naked trunks/rise cracking from brittle grass/shedding frost & ice/.
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Thank you, Glenn. As you might have guessed not only from the poem but also from the photographs, I love my willows!
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I miss willows, they don’t grow I live now. Your ode to the seasons of the willow corkscrews around and around until the endless cycle of yellow and green and black blends together into a masterpiece.
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Thank you, Brian, your comments are much appreciated.
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I liked the fifth one best with all the alliteration on the “t” and “w” sounds.
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Thank you, Frank. I’m quite partial to number one – those winter trees with dramatic geometric shapes.
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My dad was a gardener, and hated the way these willows were distorted. Love your ku
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I can’t imagine what a gardener would make of our wild entanglement!
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My goodness, Kim 😀 this is absolutely incredible both in words and image ❤️ inspired!
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Thank you, Sanaa. I was just about to go to bed. My eyes feel like they’re about to fall out of their sockets, so I’ll be doing some more reading in the morning. I’m impressed with all the fantastic poetry I’ve read so far. I look forwa rd d to reading yours tomorrow. 😎
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It’s like the poem equivalent of a multi exposure photograph – all those layers, giving such a comprehensive image. Lovely.
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I was trying to get a cubist effect but you’re right, it’s more layered than cubed!
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Nude descending a staircase. Duchamp.
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Such vivid, gorgeous imagery here, kim. Which is something I have come to expect from you. This one is particularly breathtaking.
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Thank you, De. I think the tree has to take some of the credit!
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You have an artist’s eye Kim ~ Love the colors you used from charcoal to buttery yellow ~ No. 7 is just outstanding ~
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Thank you, Grace. My favourite is number 1 – I get so much out of looking at the shapes in the trunk and branches. There’s been a new additional lately – a squirrel!
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I can visualize you sitting there, really peering at that tree, capturing all its nuance with your pen. I agree with Grace…definitely the eye of an artist, of a poet, painted this beauty.
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The wonderful thing, Victoria, is that I can go out and walk around it, touch it and sit under it! Our garden is full of inspiration. Thank you for your kind comments.
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As is my garden
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Dishevelled willows
framed in the study window
squiggle with van Gogh brushstrokes.
…just love this image…like the seasonal timeline you’ve drawn.
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One of our willows is so big it conceals the rest of the garden. yesterday was so windy I sat and watched all those little squiggles for ages and they just reminded me of van Gogh.
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Your poem is just filled with one incredible image after the other, Kim, and I loved the colors that were interspersed.
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Thank you Gayle.
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I also loved all the colors drifting through your poem. You paint a beautiful picture with your words.
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Thank you so much – I enjoy writing about what I see.
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I loved the whole poem, the changing of the seasons but I totally LOVED the little yellow catkins. wonderful images.
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I’m very lucky to have such an amazing garden right outside my window!
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love all the aspects you brought to my attention – willows! lovely!
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Thank you Freya!
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The 5th one is my favourite. It reminds me of a corkscrew willow in my garden that I suspect won’t survive this winter. It’s not looking happy at all.
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Our willows just keep growing – they even get tangled in the electric power cables and we have to get EDF to come and cut them. It was the rowan trees, after which our cottage was named, that came to a sad ending.
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I hate watching trees die. It’s heartbreaking.
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…smears of buttery yellow….what a wonderful line. Second reading I did aloud and oh how I loved the sounds and the movement the words produced in my mouth!!! 😊
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Thank you, Lillian. I usually read poems aloud unless I can see they are visual poems. I’m glad you enjoyed the words!
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A symphonic piece of poetry, to be sure, Kim! You presented this so well!
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Thank you Walter. It’s so nice to be appreciated.
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I could feel the shift in perspective. I love willows, so I really enjoyed your poem. Number 7 struck out to me the most 🙂
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Thanks Oloriel. Quite a few preferences for number 7 – that’s July, I suppose. I really enjoyed writing about the winter and autumn perspectives.
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My goodness! You painted exquisite seasons using only words. Your painting of the willow lives and breathes with each passing season. I loved this, especially these lines:
“Intricate lace
of charcoal branches is pinned
to pale winter skies.”
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Thank you, Barry, for stopping by to read and comment!
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Achingly beautiful, Kim. The willow really spoke to me. Such delightful imagery and turns of phrase.
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Thank you so much. It’s a soaked willow this morning – we’re having a spate of autumn rain, although the weatherman has promised some sunshine for next week!
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☔️ Autumn is the best time of year.
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Dishevelled willows
framed in the study window
squiggle with van Gogh brushstrokes.
Love #7! Great observation Kim! Yes, very much like van Gogh’ s signature curly wavy lines (squiggles most appropriately)
Hank
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Thanks Hank. Those squiggles are glossy with rain this grey morning – 7.30 and still not very light. Luna, the older cat, went out at about 6.30 but she’s already back, soaked through and hungry. I told her she’d be better off staying inside!
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Love how you take us through all the seasons. Love the melting butter in the mud!
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Thanks Bryan. Problem is, melting butter evokes hot crumpets and Early Grey tea for me!
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