SPARK Round 7

Yes, it’s that time of the year again already: SPARK time. My partner this round was Cheryl Leibovitz. Being a total ignoramus as far as art is concerned, I feel most comfortable with ‘easy to understand’ representational art, so Cheryl’s abstract images pushed me out of my comfort zone – which is always the best place to find inspiration. I think both images are great, but I’m particularly drawn to Cheryl’s response piece - I love the colours and I think it captures the mood of the poem perfectly.

As usual, I thoroughly enjoyed taking part in SPARK but unfortunately I didn’t get the opportunity to spend as much time as I would have liked on my response. I was away from home on an unscheduled visit to the UK for the first seven days of the round, and I was suffering from jet lag for the last three days. I plan on coming back to Cheryl’s inspiration piece again some time, and giving it another go. I already have the germ of an idea for a short story. Watch this space. 

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The inspiration piece I sent to Cheryl

Perfect

I always thought my perfect date
would go like this (well more or less):
we’d fly to Paris in his jet,
he’d wear a tux, I’d wear a dress
by Calvin Klein or Lagerfeld,
to-die-for shoes by Jimmy Choo,
and nestled snugly round my neck
Tahitian pearls – a string or two.

We’d dine at Le Palais Royal
our faces lit by candlelight,
he’d order lobster thermidor
and feed me, bite by perfect bite.
And after dark we’d stumble on
La Fontaine de la Lumière. 
We’d make a wish and then we’d kiss,
his fingers running through my hair.

We’d walk together hand in hand
across Le Pont Louis-Phillipe.
Below, the waters of the Seine
would lay the stars beneath our feet.
And when the Sun rose in the east
and sister Moon sank in the west
I’d watch the city shrink below
and lay my head upon his chest.

Then yesterday I met a man
who asked me out, and I said yes.
We drove to Northwich in his van,
he wore a fleece from M & S,
I wore my oldest pair of jeans.
I had no time to wash my hair
or even put my make up on.
Sounds crazy, but I didn’t care.

We opted for a Maccy D’s
and sitting on the plastic bench
ate greasy French fries with our hands
(the only thing remotely French).
And afterwards we went to see
Tom Hanks in ‘The DaVinci Code’.
The Paris captured on the screen
was beautiful, but left me cold.

And when the ushers chucked us out 
we walked together arm in arm
along the Macclesfield canal.
Who’d think old junk could hold such charm?
And when the dawn broke in the east,
and stained the clouds in peach and red,
it found us in his basement flat
sardined into his single bed. 

I can’t recall a thing before
last night. It’s all gone up in smoke.
Forget about the perfect date,
I’d rather have the perfect bloke.

© Helen Whittaker http://theduckside.com

Cheryl’s response

Perfect

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The inspiration piece Cheryl sent to me

red and black study

My response

Tasting freedom

Beyond the bars
a crescent moon rises
like a dead fish
in a stagnant pond.

Poking out from under the bed
a pair of striped legs:
Jimmy the Switch’s nightly impression
of a car mechanic.

The chirp of unseen crickets
masks the scratching sound
as Jimmy’s teaspoon scrapes away
a few more molecules of concrete.

The jailhouse semaphore
starts up on the water pipes.
Jimmy hides the teaspoon behind the skirting board
and jumps onto the bed.

Freedom is a dish
he’ll take however it comes.
For now he’s sampling it
one spoonful at a time.

© Helen Whittaker http://theduckside.com