This year’s blood has frozen
and so has mine – no beat
in my heart and all heat
has escaped in clouds of breath
~ like wisps of winter mist ~
dreams are tattered cobwebs
streaming from the garden gate.
I watch them dissolve in a slant
of bloodless morning light.
Kim M. Russell, 8th December 2018
My response to Imaginary Garden with Real Toads Fussy Little Forms: Puente
Marian is our host this weekend and she’s invited us to play with puente, a form created by James Rasmusson.
She explains that the word ‘puente’ means bridge in Spanish and this form features a bridge by having three stanzas: the first and third stanzas have an equal number of lines (which is up to the poet) and the middle stanza of one line is the bridge, which is enclosed in dashes or tildes. The middle bridge stanza serves as the last line for the first stanza and the first line for the last.
Marian has given a great example of one of her own, which she wrote when Kerry introduced the puente in 2011.
Such a poignant poem, Kim. Especially the phrase; “dreams are tattered cobwebs,” pierces through the heart. ❄☕
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Thank you so much, Sanaa. 🙂
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I’m enchanted by the fact that your stanzas can be read independently as their own poems. Also, your capitalization is perfect–makes me a bit jealous. So much so, that one of these days I will go back to my own puente and make it work in this way. And the imagery, wow. I can see the chilly fog, darkening the blood, stealing the heat, wintering.
Beyond yummy. I totally love your puente, too (yes, I giggled when I wrote that). 😀
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Thank you so much, Magaly. I really appreciate your comments, which are always so thoughtful.
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Kim I too could love your Puente. I really do love your poem. Cobwebs and all. I don’t know if you tried writing both major stanzas in the same tense but that was too hard for me with the Puente so mine turned out then and now with an expectation, or a hope, of the future. I noted yours was “has”, then “are”.
..
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Thanks Jim. My poem is all in the present tense: the first stanza describes how everything has frozen and stopped – the moment in time has stopped. In the second stanza, dreams dissolve in the morning light. No hope in this poem, I’m afraid.
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cobwebs streaming from garden’s gate – LOVE that – a wonderful image for broken dreams!
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Thank you, Margaret!
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Such a clever idea to make the bridge a simile which works as comparison to both halves of the poem. Wonderful moody piece.
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Thank you, Kerry.
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Vividly wintry in all sorts of ways, and the final image beautiful in both words and picture.
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Thank you, Rosemary.
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When dream dis\e we too die a little bit with them along the way.
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Gosh, I love this, Kim. Yes, dreams are cobwebs, for sure. Bloodless, cold… frozen season. Also I swear I wrote mine before reading this 🙂 I guess it’s a deep mood.
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Thank you, Marian. 🙂
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Wonderful! The cobwebs especially. You certainly wrote winter into this poem.
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Than kyou, Toni! I’m just back from grandmother duties. 😉
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How wonderful!
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Such gorgeous imagery! I love it! Especially the tattered cobweb dreams.
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Thank you, Sherry! I apologise for taking so long to reply, but I’ve been offline on grandmother duties. 🙂
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I love ‘bloodless morning light.’ Wonderful imagery Kim.
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Thank you, Linda.
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Wow! You really captured the form. This is beautiful.
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Thank you, Susie!
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Love this … especially the way you bridged the stanzas!
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Thank you, Helen! I apologise for taking so long to reply, but I’ve been offline on grandmother duties. 🙂
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a fine chiasmus of a puente ~
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Thank you very much. 🙂
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