The House of Pink

Today at Real Toads I am asking people to write about where they write their poetry.  In a notebook? In the bedroom? At the computer? On a laptop?  Tell us where you write your poetry.This is also being posted on Posts United Poetry Pantry


The House of Pink

“Memory… is the diary that we all carry about with us.” Oscar Wilde

Funny how a saw going through the skull
sounds exactly like you would expect.
When the skull is lifted
the brain looks as pink and perfect
as a summer carnation.
This is where I write my poetry –
apart from the obvious of course.
I don’t do notebooks
or pens or ink.
I write my poetry in that perfect pink carnation –
lines of poems,
a phrase,
a bit of starlight or the memory
of the moon –
They are all kept in this pink house.
I walk around with my poems in my head,
in my brain
until they are ready to be born.
I sit at the computer and breathe deeply.
I close my eyes.
I begin to type.
The poems emerge from the house of pink
and change into black and white.
The house of pink gives up its lines.
The house of pink opens the door
and sets them free.

 

36 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. windflower
    Oct 27, 2018 @ 15:15:04

    I love this poem so much. I find it both inspiring and erotic. (I can’t help it; blame MY pink house.)

    Reply

  2. annell4
    Oct 27, 2018 @ 15:46:35

    How beautiful!! That house of pink.

    Reply

  3. Björn Rudberg (brudberg)
    Oct 27, 2018 @ 16:48:29

    Lovely… the imaging of that bone-saw was slightly disturbing… my writing also exists in the mind so I think we were on the same wave-length here.

    Reply

  4. anmol(alias HA)
    Oct 27, 2018 @ 20:42:37

    Ah, I loved that beginning. It provides such an invigorating tone to the process — the images of the saw and the skull and the brain provide the way – an outside-in view – into the intricacies of all that we store in our minds. “I write my poetry in that perfect pink carnation”: Wonderful! ❤

    Reply

  5. Mary
    Oct 27, 2018 @ 21:10:04

    Sounds like a beautiful place and way to write poetry!

    Reply

  6. oldegg
    Oct 28, 2018 @ 01:40:27

    I must confess I felt a bit edgy with that saw and my brain but hey who am I to argue if the words come out right for you!

    Reply

  7. kim881
    Oct 28, 2018 @ 05:41:44

    Astonishing! You took me by surprise and I got lost in your poem, Toni! The saw was a shock and I love the comparison of the skull with a perfect, pink summer carnation. The problem with my carnation is that it has been eaten a bit by worms and I have to capture words somewhere, otherwise they disappear, so I have to rely on notebooks by the bed or in my bag and, of course, my laptop.

    Reply

    • kanzensakura
      Oct 28, 2018 @ 06:27:08

      Lol. My carnation is rapidly fading. The thing is, it is where you write, not me. I am not a warm fuzzy kind of person, but you may be. You may write in a notebook all snuggled by the fire, I write while frost is falling. It is all about where, not how you write

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  8. magicalmysticalteacher
    Oct 28, 2018 @ 13:23:59

    I was startled by your poem’s opening. It took me immediately to the recent murder of the journalist Jamal Khashoggi, and bone saws…

    Reply

  9. Charmed Chaos
    Oct 28, 2018 @ 14:07:43

    What an astonishing poem Toni!

    Reply

  10. Beverly Crawford
    Oct 28, 2018 @ 14:12:44

    A most unique view of the creative gathering of words! Well done.

    Reply

  11. Pat: willow88switches
    Oct 28, 2018 @ 15:10:58

    I write my poetry in that perfect pink carnation –
    lines of poems,
    a phrase,
    a bit of starlight or the memory
    of the moon –

    ah well, the brain/mind is but a storage space …. thankfully, it holds more than the clearly, cold observational notations, which serve the function end of “mise en place” – but it also breathes deeply, leaving the imagination to roam free and wild, to cull and tease, the other aspects, the unruly wild wander run barefoot free spirit that howls or whispers to the moon too —

    room for it all, which is, I suspect, very much in line – so if I may ask, (I will anyway) may I call you “Virginia”? …

    (I admit, I’m guilty in being behind here, for responding to your delicious prompt, but Ms. Woolf and her room of one’s own has been pestering me to voice herself in my poem/answer response – so I trust she will eventually erupt into something) … and your prompt and response can’t help but call forth such ideas of space – head space – which is all fine, as long as spirit and heart also have elbow room 🙂

    I really liked the way you brought us bone-crunching into this poem, and then said, hey, the shell houses ….. the core, – the “heart” of your matter – for this is uniquely you as it is of your eye colour or fingerprints. This has “Toni” named all over it. Brava!

    Reply

    • kanzensakura
      Oct 28, 2018 @ 20:03:17

      Thank you Pat. Why Virginia?

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      • Pat: willow88switches
        Oct 28, 2018 @ 20:06:15

        Virginia Woolf – a room of one’s own …

        a space carved out specifically to … create, be – breathe, etc. freely … is *necessary* for one’s identity …
        as opposed to the delightful innocence of “yes Virginia, there is ….” – although this could too, be offered, except I suspect you might throw a cleaver my way … but there is a delightful sensitive wondering innocence hidden within your pots and pans too … 🙂

        Reply

        • kanzensakura
          Oct 28, 2018 @ 20:46:31

          I responded to the wrong poem. I have tried to keep my sense of wonder. Although these last two years have been hard for me in terms of deathbed loved ones, of friends. I do show my edge as in the beginning of the poem. It is hard to keep moving sometimes, but I persist.

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          • Pat: willow88switches
            Oct 28, 2018 @ 22:21:40

            Whoops. Got it. No problems. My brain didn’t even catch it right away. Sometimes it’s just a damn avalanche – which makes it hard to keep moving on … but one small step on the harder days is still forward progress ~ that’s what counts. Wonder is something I think is the last to “die” within us, even if it literally gets buried so deeply for whatever life’s crap might come. Maybe wonder is part of what fuels and sparks Hope.

            Reply

  12. Sherry Blue Sky
    Oct 28, 2018 @ 18:11:21

    Wonderful, poems born in a house of pink!!!!!!!!

    Reply

  13. Wendy Bourke
    Oct 28, 2018 @ 18:36:34

    This is stunning – and truly impactful – with a visceral element to it that is mesmeric and profound. I think that this poem is not going to let me go, for quire a while. A brilliant piece of writing!

    Reply

  14. sanaarizvi
    Oct 29, 2018 @ 09:22:04

    Such a beautiful, beautiful poem, Toni! ❤️ Especially love; “I write my poetry in that perfect pink carnation –lines of poems,a phrase,a bit of starlight or the memory of the moon.” 🙂

    Reply

  15. Cressida
    Oct 29, 2018 @ 10:40:31

    Your pink carnation creative brain space sounds very nice with the starlight and moon. My poems are poured straight from the teapot …no notes or anything…..a simple brew,one teaspoon for each person and one for the pot:)

    Reply

  16. coalblack
    Oct 29, 2018 @ 11:05:28

    This goes from being gruesome to being absolutely sublime. I love your idea of a House of Pink.

    Reply

    • kanzensakura
      Oct 29, 2018 @ 11:41:47

      Which is why I wanted to describe where ghe brain resides, thst is an organ, that it is organic, not just a brain. I wanted people to focus on it, to realize its physical beauty. It resides in our body, the house for the brain. Life is not always pretty or safe or normal. I wanted to rub people’s noses in it. I wanted to come out swinging.

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  17. purplepeninportland
    Oct 29, 2018 @ 13:41:37

    I love poems being formed in that lovely pink space. I keep thinking of an old album called “Music From Big Pink.” Had a pink house on the cover.

    Reply

  18. Rosemary Nissen-Wade
    Oct 30, 2018 @ 19:57:12

    Oh, I just love this sweet conceit!

    Reply

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