Dust

For We Write Poems: prompt #116 Unexpected Descriptions
http://wewritepoems.wordpress.com/

Please click and listen (skip the ad). Then come back and read the poem.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=endscreen&v=g0zSB2WEtwU&NR=1

Dust

Infinitesimal specks
grey matter

settled to stillness

layered ghosts dreaming
hope

brushed aside

Elizabeth Crawford  8/1/12

Notes: Awoke with this song in my head. So used it to respond to the prompt. As you can see, I have yet to end my fascination with these brief word count pieces. This one is 13 words. In the visual arts, it is said that an uneven number is more pleasing, will grab the eye, focus it, thus the attention, much more quickly. In these brief (thus more focused pieces), spacing, line breaks, etc., all take on more depth and meaning. Thus the poem itself becomes a piece of visual art (at least I think it does, lol).

Have written and spoken about how music has been a primary driving force and arena for inspiration most of my life. I intend to continue this exercise with music on another site.
http://1sojournal.wordpress.com/

and will post another song and response to it there tomorrow. Am considering making this an ungoing weekly challenge. If you are interested in joining me, please let me know.

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About 1sojournal

Loves words and language. Dances on paper to her own inner music. Loves to share and keeps several blogs to facilitate that. They can be found here: http://1sojournal.wordpress.com/ https://soulsmusic.wordpress.com/ http://claudetteellinger.wordpress.com/
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8 Responses to Dust

  1. Irene says:

    Strange but there’s such gravity in mere dust. The idea of “layered ghosts” is interesting, Elizabeth. This poem made me think of my father.

    Interesting, Irene? I had to go away for a bit after reading your comment and try to figure out how I came to those two words. Hope you have a cuppa near by. Here goes. Dust is the detritus of physical objects, be that skin, furniture, or wall plaster. It slips off with movement. We, in that sense, are the dust of the last generation, what is left as they move on. Just as they are the dust of the generation before them. Ghosts, many believe, are individuals who have passed on, but because of unresolved conflicts (too numerous to mention), have refused to pass over into the light of afterlife, so they cling, just as dust clings. A very common way of speaking about dust is to say that it gathers, accumulates in layers. And any house keeper knows that dusting is the one task that is never completed, never done, always waiting to be swept up, brushed aside once again. In the song, the singer speaks of dreams gone the way of dust in the wind. Phew! I think I did it. There’s more, but I don’t want to bore you, lol. And I have a lot of poems to read. Thanks for that opportunity. Guess I should have put it all in the notes, wink, wink. Regardless, by what you have said, you certainly picked up on some, if not all of it. Fascinating and yes, somehow filled with a gravitational pull,

    Elizabeth

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  2. Wow, you have given dust motes a whole new life…….I LOVE “layered ghosts dreaming hope”….WOW! Love it, Elizabeth. Hey I’m feeling like taking another journey. Interested?

    Lol, Sherry, that was sort of my intention. That’s my favorite line as well. If your interested in the challenge, I’ll be outlining it after tomorrow’s post at the sojournal site. Hope to see you there, it might be a bit of a surprise,

    Elizabeth

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  3. The “layered ghosts” are often literally that: Human skin cells, sloughed off. We “shed our skins” like snakes, except a cell at a time. I almost wish you hadn’t named it “Dust,” because it sort of gave away the surprise – but this is an excellent, compact write. I didn’t know about the uneven numbers, but I loved the shape of this poem as well. Great write, hon. Amy
    http://sharplittlepencil.com/2012/07/31/canvas-wwp-abc-poets-united/

    Hello Amy and thanks for your generous words and comment. To be honest, wasn’t quite sure where this would go until I rewrote it several times. The title was a “working” one, and I simply kept it. So glad, these blog pieces are only drafts, lol. But, I was simply trying to work something out about the song itself, which has haunted me since the first time I encountered it so long ago. I will really have to think about a different title, because until you mentioned it, I had lost sight of the actual prompt itself. Thanks a bunch,

    Elizabeth

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  4. vivinfrance says:

    I too love the compact poems – in yours, every word counts, so well are they chosen.

    Viv, when I first started writing poetry, all of my poems were compact, because I was so insecure about what I was doing. Didn’t want to confuse anyone and was only hoping to be heard on a good day. I’ve loosened up a bit since then (what an understatement, huh?) This whole exercise of limited words has been like a refresher course in the basics for me. Think I want to make sure I learn it this time around. And, of course, it is a challenge, and when it comes to writing, I rather like a good meaty challenge. Maybe you’ll join me? I’ll be defining the challenge tomorrow at the sojournal site. And thanks for stopping by,

    Elizabeth

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  5. JulesPaige says:

    Elizabeth, I only ever thought of dust as human detritus once I actually learned what it was – the plaster, anything else really just small pieces of dirt. And dirt isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Your challenge is interesting – I am not yet tech savvy to do such, yet. Are all of our memories layered ghosts? The ones we just can’t keep hold of the one we want to be rid of? Kind of like Caesars last breath said to be still floating in the atmosphere.

    Thanks for your visit.

    Jules, once I decided to write about it, dust took on all manner of definition and became ripe for metaphor. And you are correct, dirt isn’t a bad thing, given enough of it one may create a garden of exquisite beauty. I like how you immediately thought memory for dust. I was actually thinking of how often, even during the course of one day, we brush aside our own thoughts, never allowing them to settle and perhaps bear fruit. Or that our thoughts contain energy, like Ceasar’s last breath and that others might find fruit from them blowing in the wind. Thanks for stopping and making me think,

    Elizabeth

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  6. wayne says:

    a very “tight” well written poem…thanks for this

    Thank you Wayne, I especially like your piece about the spirit head. There is something sacred in your story,

    Elizabeth

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  7. Misky says:

    It’s amazing how so few words can make such an enormous impact. Well written.

    Like

  8. nan says:

    layered ghosts dreaming….great line! Well done. This begs re-reading.

    Like

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