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Thursday, January 07, 2010

Wen Chang

I wake monastic
to a morning of spare light,
and an itch to be
tetchy lingering from last
night's candle-lit creeps.

A quick rummage through closets
where I keep hidden
pantechnicons of surplus
garments discarded
by near houses of worship,

finds a never-worn
surplice cut to my liking,
and I slip it on
starched and musty white
atop wrinkled blue

jeans. In the hall, I perk up
primula bouquets
laid at feet of ivory
and I ignite
a joss stick, letting its curls

of fragrance implore
the deity to bring down
his leather-bound book
and nobble my stubborn mind
until its ructions

subside. But Wen Chang keeps words
clutched dear to his breast,
and I'll need another means
of making myself
a muggins with romper thoughts

new freed, ever penned
to bounce about. So I head
to the scullery
and peal yellow and red blotched
skins from twelve pippins

to bake in two tarts, bubbling
up brown: One I'll eat,
the second use finally
to coax a musing
from my still stiff friend, Wen Chang.

Francis Scudellari



This poem is written in response to Read Write Prompt #108: a mechanical approach, by matthew zapruder at Read Write Poem. Matthew outlined a mechanical process he used to create his poem The Elegant Trogon. It involves working through a dictionary to find interesting words. I did the same, moving backward from T through J, but I didn't end up using the chosen words in the order I discovered them. I've linked each to their Wiktionary definitions. In researching "Joss Stick," I happened upon the Chinese God of Literature, Wen Chang (picture above courtesy of Wikimedia user Captmondo), and he proved my guiding spirit throughout.

10 comments:

Tumblewords: said...

I absolutely love this! All the wonderful offerings to a recalcitrant receiver.

anthonynorth said...

A most mystical diet. Excellently done.

rallentanda said...

There is a slow gentleness about this poem reflecting the peace of an early morning.I like your stiff friend Wen Chang.A neighbour of ours put one of those in his car space to stop people parking.I'ts
supposed to ward off the evil spirits...unfortunately it only worked for a short time!Nice poem.

Anonymous said...

I love the first two lines - love, love, love them.

Unknown said...

Beautiful lines & lovely imagery!

Deb said...

Such play in mindfulness, I liked the first stanza so much. Esp. "an itch to be / tetchy lingering from last/ night's candle-lit creeps"

Anonymous said...

from Therese -- Like Donna above, I love the first two lines. "I wake monastic" is a great beginning, inspiring the reader to keep reading. Linking words in this poem heightens the mystical feel of this poem. That is, the links take us "through" a word to another entire world of meanings. A different place, a different state of mind. Going through a word to another dimension is a great way to make poetry.

Cynthia Short said...

Very nice topic and idea for a poem. How I wish I could be "inscrutable" like Wen Chang...

Wayne Pitchko said...

nicely done...and I agree gentle...thanks for this

Raven's Wing Poetry said...

Nicely done. You used the words well to lend a sort of playful, mischievous feel to the entire piece. The next time I see a surplice (which is pretty frequently, since I work in a Catholic seminary), I'll think of you.

-Nicole