Memories, like ghosts, appear at night

The cats prowl and purr – each 

uniquely loving, funny, proud.… 

Every man, too, who entered my life and left 

returns, with many details…. 

I smile and I weep.

Memories, like ghosts, appear at night.

My children – always the surest path

to joy and heartbreak – arrive at various ages. 

They are middle-aged: friends or strangers….

They are infants, running and laughing.… 

I weep, and I smile.

['On Joy and Sorrow' – Kahlil Gibran:  I say unto you, they are inseparable.]

Written for Weekly Scribblings #31: What Makes You Smile? at Poets and Storytellers United, using the 'elevensies' form where the title appears as the middle line (invented by Kit Kelen in conversation with Kerri Shying, who has used it extensively. See detailed notes here.). 

As sunset hovers, or sunrise

The feeling of light

is rose and bone —

the contradictions 

at that juncture, that

tipping point where

as sunset hovers, or sunrise

I solidify down into night

reaching for home, 

boundaries ... or else lift

evanescent as petals or

the seductive flight of scent.

Another in the elevensies form where middle line is also title – invented by Kit Kelen based on input by Kerry Shying. See my detailed notes here.

Light that gives life, hope, joy, renewal

Dawn makes me cry, the light falling 

over the fence, the same time as it rises

up the sky, spreading out wider, soon

in all directions, entering all places,

becoming one with everything, the sun

light that gives life, hope, joy, renewal

one with the earth it covers and fills —

and I think how I am empty, empty of 

purpose, of meaning, of reason to be.

Finally I realise: I am empty of you, now, 
always, no matter how many sunrises.

This is in the ‘elevensies’ form pioneered by Australian poet Kerri Shying, who hopes others will adopt it too. In her book Knitting Mangrove Roots, we’re told that it ‘was invented spontaneously in conversation between Kerri and Kit Kelen, who noticed that this was how things were tending for her, and that 'an eleven liner could become a respectable form in its own right: a form any poet might attempt. Five lines either side and the middle line’s the title, that’s all there is to it.’

Having some acquaintance with Kerri through poetry projects we’ve both been involved in, and having recently heard her read some elevensies at a Zoom event, I bought two recent books of hers which showcase the form — Elevensies and the afore-mentioned Knitting Mangrove Roots  — and she urged me to try the form myself. At first I thought I would need to ape both her personal poetic style and her unique way with titles, but then I realised I only needed the latter. I also chose to use longish lines as she often (but not always) does. Having given it a go, I now perceive that I could use much shorter lines and more conventional titles if I liked. I’ll probably give that a try too. However I love the idea of getting away from ‘conventional titles’ even so (grin). Btw no-one has said the poem should work in sequence if the title line were removed from the centre, but that's an additional rule I have made up for myself when working in this form.

Aug 30, 2020 Sharing at Writers Pantry #35 at Poets and Storytellers United.