“rough edges,” by Elise Siegel
Traveling Exhibit
My maker’s shoppe birth of
pink clay glued with sand
gathered from hill and lake,
slathered on stainless frame
sun-baked in bright, green June.
I squalled under solstice moon,
pumiced smooth, near-human,
buttoned into pink gingham,
swaddled in plush receiving
blanket, sent to dwell with
neurodivergent bunglers
Who, conveniently, were too
inner-turned to pay me much mind.
In neglect, this claymation figure
fast forwarded here and there
climbing trees, feeling breeze,
exploring abandoned under-
ground factory shafts, putting
pennies on railroad tracks.
Scuffed and jostled, seasoned
with “better seen not heard”
and better yet not seen.
Tumbled, poked, and prodded,
a puppet turned odded. Jerked
by agenda-ed stop-motion wires,
stage-captured in barless cage.
One night in a nameless town
a nameless crone came to see
the show. And that is how
I found a home.
Years have passed.
She’s long gone now.
Real, here I stand,
still remembering
when she lovingly
placed me on her shelf.
I had no idea where this was going when I started it. I had Punam’s cast iron, unbendable spine in the back of mind and that was the spark. I also thought of Pinocchio, how he was fashioned as a puppet and became real in the end. Finally, as this bust exhibit traveled to the gardens from far reaches to assemble, it occurred that could fit in here and became the title. I also kind of combined the two options.
Today I am the host of dVerse’ Poetics Tuesday. I say:
Your challenge, if you choose to accept it, gives you two options:
a) Create a sculpture (or bust) of yourself. Use any materials – real or imagined – using the guidelines within Victoria’s 2012 prompt.
b) Write an ekphrastic poem using one of the included busts. If you choose this option, please make sure you include artist attribution on your blog.
Tao Talk 
A most interesting poem, Lisa. I’m going over to read the prompt.
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Thanks for giving it a look, Robbie.
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🥰, I always. Look just sometimes my muse turns her back 🤣
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I love the phrase ‘I squalled under solstice moon’, Lisa, and the way you used active verbs to bring the sculpture to life. I also love the image of a claymation figure fast-forwarding here and there, and having a childlike adventure. I’m glad it found a home.
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Kim, I appreciate you giving the poem a close look. Thank you <3
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You’re always welcome, Lisa.
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I am touched that my poem sort of inspired this stunning write, Li. I love how you took us on this journey of the bust and it’s final home.
I especially love the following lines where you humanise it.
“In neglect, this claymation figure
fast forwarded here and there
climbing trees, feeling breeze,
exploring abandoned under-
ground factory shafts, putting
pennies on railroad tracks.”
Bravo!❤️❤️
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Punam, thank you very much. Those things actually happened to the claymation figure!
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An interesting twist of themes and ideas, Lisa!
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Thanks, Dwight.
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I reposted my puppy dog nose creation. I hope you don’t mind. I had to sculpt a new nose for him.
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Of course I don’t mind. You sculpted a fix and made him good as new.
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Thank you so much! And he has already sold!
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:) <3
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They do become real…in all kinds of different ways. (K)
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<3
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Ha! I was doing double-takes…became slowly more and more clever…doing double takes as something clever was happening…up to the last lines! But is a really good piece aside from the narrative, for description alone…I would say some of yr philosophy is there that I have seen…v well done.
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Ain, I love your feedback on this. Thanks.
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This is a very moving poem Li. Vivid imagery and compelling story
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Sadje, thank you very much <3
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You’re most welcome 🤗
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So happy she finally found a home. Great poem, Lisa!
Yvette M Calleiro :-)http://yvettemcalleiro.blogspot.com
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Me too, Yvette. Thank you very much.
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You brought her to LIFE / magically / beautifully / creatively / realistically. I LOVE your poem, Ms. Lisa.
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I’m glad you grok the poem. Thank you, Dear Helen.
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Lisa, I love how this poem captures transformation and identity through the clay figure’s journey. The nameless crone’s role adds a beautiful, fateful touch to the story.
Much love,
David
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David, “fateful touch” is well-noted. How the crone came to be in the figure’s life is no less than fate, or divine intervention. Perhaps the Goddess thought thought she’d suffered enough?
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🤗 🤗 🤗
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