Contents
Editors Note
“Handcrafting” by Sharon Cote
(Rattle Ekphrastic Challenge—Poetry)
“We’re Not Ghosts, Maggie Explains” by Sharon Cote
(Rattle Ekphrastic Challenge—Poetry)
“Oracle” by Seth Leeper
(Rattle Ekphrastic Challenge—Poetry)
“Medea” by Sarah Stoltzfus Allen
(Rattle Ekphrastic Challenge—Poetry)
“Beacon Hands” by Sarah Stoltzfus Allen
(3Elements—Poetry)
“Driven by Hellacious Winds” by C. Massar
(Notebooking Daily—Micro Prose)
“Maybe Tonight” by Lynn White
(Rattle Ekphrastic Challenge—Poetry)
“Handcrafting” by Sharon Cote
Handcrafting
There’s something to be said for
embroidering. The ratio of
flower to field, for one thing,
is entirely in your hands.
The textures of sky and rock
the movement of light
all subject to the looseness
or tightness of your pulls and tugs
to the exact ups and downs
of your thimble-guided pricks.
In your flat fabric world
you can build a land of satin stitches
straight even rows of colored-thread minions
have them bump and press up close
mingle with slant stitched ridge lines.
If you will it
geometry will have its own life
in scattered crosses, herringbones, and lazy daisies
in French knots, seeds, and couching
or not.
You can detail the lushness of green growth
populate with creatures real and wonderous
or bury it all
in coverings of furrowed lines.
It’s your yarn
your needle to thread.
You can just
squint your eyes
and begin.
by Sharon Cote
Sharon Cote is a linguist and a late-in-the-making poet. A growing number of her poems have now escaped into the world, appearing in a variety of places, and she has also been a winner of Rattle’s Ekphrastic Challenge. She lives in Virginia with her husband and a rather strange dog.
On this Piece
“Handcrafting” was strongly influenced by the textured brush strokes of the semi-abstract landscape painting that prompted it, but the tone of the poem came from my memories of my mother teaching me how to sew and do needlework (though I’m admittedly a bit rusty at both now).
This piece was sparked by the prompt for Rattle’s May 2016 Monthly Ekphrastic Challenge (read the winner here). The assigned image: “Castlerigg” by Catherine Edmunds.
NEXT PIECE: “We’re Not Ghosts, Maggie Explains” by Sharon Cote
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“We’re Not Ghosts, Maggie Explains” by Sharon Cote
We’re Not Ghosts, Maggie Explains
Dusty spends nights on a picnic table
behind city hall through cold if able
though I heard that’s what got our long gone Lou
young Elle writes on napkins with a green pen
finds the nearest mailbox and shoves them in
her grim eyes need watching good days I do
not much of a city the streets are small
and we loom large just like Ronnie so tall
he fills the sidewalk people step aside
And can you understand the joys? see
that diner with the sign more worn than me
mornings when it’s got old pies gives me some
nearly a pure gift and I divide them
the songs I hear on the bridge by the creek
you all don’t know how that gray water speaks
Oh, Maggie, it starts when I’m passing by
sad some days but no it can’t make me cry
the streets may seem small but we loom loom wide
I feel you’re the ghosts with busy ghost lives
but Creek says it’s all the same when it dries
by Sharon Cote
Sharon Cote is a linguist and a late-in-the-making poet. A growing number of her poems have now escaped into the world, appearing in a variety of places, and she has also been a winner of Rattle’s Ekphrastic Challenge. She lives in Virginia with her husband and a rather strange dog.
On this piece:
“We’re Not Ghosts, Maggie Explains” started with the creation of a backstory for the two foregrounded figures in the painting from Rattle’s Ekphrastic Challenge that month. The water in the painting caused me to link the two of them to where I live, Harrisonburg, VA, which does in fact have a creek spanned by little bridges downtown—and a homeless population. Before the pandemic, I often saw a man in a sleeping bag on one of the picnic tables under the black walnut trees by city hall when I took my dog for early morning walks. Those walnuts are hard, and certain times of the year, I feared they were hitting him.
This piece was sparked by the prompt for Rattle’s August 2017 Monthly Ekphrastic Challenge (read the winner here). From the Image: “Street Folks” by Jennifer O’Neill Pickering
NEXT PIECE: “Oracle” by Seth Leeper
Did you enjoy “We’re Not Ghosts, Maggie Explains” by Sharon Cote?
If you would like to nominate this piece for our year-end Reader’s Choice Award click here and donate. $1 = nomination. Please do not forget to mention the piece you’re nominating. To learn more about the award click here, but in short, the piece with the most $1 nominations at the end of the year will get half of the donated money, receive 20 copies of a limited edition broadside designed for their piece and have their post pinned to the front of the website for all of December. This is one of the only ways we raise money for the magazine in order to pay all of our wonderful writers and keep this lights on here at Sparked.
Oracle
after all
that walking
through
wet sludge
and dusty
meadows
to be rooted here
waiting
has aged me
beyond
my years
all the honey and salves
cannot stave off
the cracks
she could have
left a note
i would have
taken a number
but alas
my wanderings
have led me
to this
empty bowl
if that Gorgon
in the corner
glances this way
once more
pity Pythia
won’t be back
to see me
fall to pieces
by Seth Leeper
Seth Leeper is a queer poet. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in Anti-Heroin Chic, Always Crashing, The Summerset Review, The Broadkill Review, White Wall Review, Coastal Shelf, and others. He holds an M.A. in Special Education from Pace University and B.A. in Creative Writing and Fashion Journalism from San Francisco State University. He lives and teaches in Brooklyn, NY. He tweets @sethwleeper.
On this piece:
This piece was written in response to Rattle’s September 2020 Ekphrastic Challenge. I approached it as an opportunity to infuse some nerdy humor into the piece. Thinking, like, what if this figure waited so long for the Oracle they just turned to stone? In the days of the Delphic Temple, folks would make pilgrimages just to seek or glimpse the Oracle. I thought about placing myself into the mind of someone who trekked so far, sacrificed much, to get there, just to arrive on the wrong day, or discover the Oracle was out indefinitely. It would be like the ancient world equivalent of the modern day “I _____ and all I got was this lousy T-shirt” trope. An eye roll heard through the ages.
This piece was sparked by the prompt for Rattle’s September 2020 Monthly Ekphrastic Challenge (read the winner here). From the Image: “Pool Head” by Pat Singer
NEXT PIECE: “Medea” by Sarah Stoltzfus Allen
Did you enjoy “Oracle” by Seth Leeper?
If you would like to show the writer your gratitude for putting this piece into the world you can ‘buy the writer a coffee’ and send them a suggested $3 donation here. Be sure to mention that it’s for writing the awesome piece in your note. Writers very rarely hear that people like their writing, so tell them!
If you would like to nominate this piece for our year-end Reader’s Choice Award click here and donate. $1 = nomination. Please do not forget to mention the piece you’re nominating. To learn more about the award click here, but in short, the piece with the most $1 nominations at the end of the year will get half of the donated money, receive 20 copies of a limited edition broadside designed for their piece and have their post pinned to the front of the website for all of December. This is one of the only ways we raise money for the magazine in order to pay all of our wonderful writers and keep this lights on here at Sparked.
“Medea” by Sarah Stoltzfus Allen
Medea
There is always
too much
wine, women,
worship of gods hell bent on
divine intervention to fix
their grievances.
Leave me!
Let these old bones decay
in peace.
In peace.
But she always finds me –
Medea in her blood soaked
garb, reeking of tears and resentment,
sorcery and betrayal.
Leave me!
Amongst young Dodona oaks
she whispers treachery
and blame.
I know I played my part in
her heartache, her despair.
But her wrath?
It was born of black hearts and
and a lineage of power
never refused.
Leave me!
The stars swirl above my
beloved Argo, my ship of
legend and conquest,
returning to the earth,
while I fuel my bedraggled
thirst with enough wine to feel
her words squeezing my heart
the hands of thine old Argo,
rotting where she stands, shall
smite thine head in twain, and
bitter be to the last end thy
memories of me.
She fades into night, into
half remembered truth.
In peace.
Sharpening for a moment, her horror
has done nothing to fade her
ferocious beauty.
Hand upon the prow of my
first love, my taste of freedom…
At last.
by Sarah Stoltzfus Allen
Sarah Stoltzfus Allen is a mom, works full time as an administrative assistant, and writes like her life depends on it. She lives in eastern Kentucky and has spent her entire life writing, singing, and loving the hills she calls home. Her work can be found in a few online literary journals including Ink in Thirds and The Sacred Cow.
This piece was sparked by the prompt for Rattle’s March 2021 Monthly Ekphrastic Challenge (read the winner here). From the Image: “Into Thee” by Susy Kamber
NEXT PIECE: “Beacon Hands” by Sarah Stoltzfus Allen
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If you would like to show the writer your gratitude for putting this piece into the world you can ‘buy the writer a coffee’ and send them a suggested $3 donation here. Be sure to mention that it’s for writing the awesome piece in your note. Writers very rarely hear that people like their writing, so tell them!
If you would like to nominate this piece for our year-end Reader’s Choice Award click here and donate. $1 = nomination. Please do not forget to mention the piece you’re nominating. To learn more about the award click here, but in short, the piece with the most $1 nominations at the end of the year will get half of the donated money, receive 20 copies of a limited edition broadside designed for their piece and have their post pinned to the front of the website for all of December. This is one of the only ways we raise money for the magazine in order to pay all of our wonderful writers and keep this lights on here at Sparked.
“Beacon Hands” by Sarah Stoltzfus Allen
Beacon Hands
They laid you on my chest –
all pink skin and wrecking wails,
and I knew what I should feel.
What I should say and do.
Even waking from emergency sedation,
I knew my face should beam and glow.
There should be joyful streams of tears
and bonds snapping into place.
There was an icy numbness,
right above my mons pubis
where they pulled you from
my body and I imagined my doctor
stitched a glacier in your place.
The only logical thought
I had in those first few days.
I used to be afraid of admitting
all I felt when you were born
was a frigid blackness.
Fear, world cracking fear,
snaked its frosted fingers
up my spine and ribs and throat
until I was frozen.
Made entirely of arctic water and snow drifts.
But if I don’t admit that,
admit that utter bleakness,
there is no reason to tell the world
of your beacon hands
swirling above my heart
while you latched onto my breast.
How you blazed for months
and months that turned to a year,
to shine light into every dark place.
Expose every fear and anxious thought
as something to face and recognize.
Own, then burn away in the brightness of you.
Not admitting my darkness means
dimming the spark turned wildfire
that is you.
Fire breeds fire and you
consumed everything in your path
for better and grace and all things
patient on this good earth.
You made me want to live.
I still feel the tip of the glacier
poke my abdomen from time to time.
Still feel frost begin to creep
into my bones and settle into my belly.
But you…
…you seem to burn the brightest then,
feel the cold sneaking in.
See it in my face,
hear it in my words,
swirl your beacon hands;
push warmth and light into the winter
till I can see the blaze
that leads me home.
by Sarah Stoltzfus Allen
Sarah Stoltzfus Allen is a mom, works full time as an administrative assistant, and writes like her life depends on it. She lives in eastern Kentucky and has spent her entire life writing, singing, and loving the hills she calls home. Her work can be found in a few online literary journals including Ink in Thirds and The Sacred Cow.
This piece was sparked by the prompt for 3Element’s upcoming issue (Beacon, Stitch, Glacier).
NEXT PIECE: “Driven by Hellacious Winds” by C. Massar
Did you enjoy “Beacon Hands” by Sarah Stoltzfus Allen?
If you would like to show the writer your gratitude for putting this piece into the world you can ‘buy the writer a coffee’ and send them a suggested $3 donation here. Be sure to mention that it’s for writing the awesome piece in your note. Writers very rarely hear that people like their writing, so tell them!
If you would like to nominate this piece for our year-end Reader’s Choice Award click here and donate. $1 = nomination. Please do not forget to mention the piece you’re nominating. To learn more about the award click here, but in short, the piece with the most $1 nominations at the end of the year will get half of the donated money, receive 20 copies of a limited edition broadside designed for their piece and have their post pinned to the front of the website for all of December. This is one of the only ways we raise money for the magazine in order to pay all of our wonderful writers and keep this lights on here at Sparked.
“Driven by Hellacious Winds” by C. Massar
Driven by Hellacious Winds
The motto had always been “It’s better than the yard”, but then the El Nino winds shifted in the fading light of the early fall afternoon, the raging force of the forest fire doubled back, cruising along the ghosts of trees past now ash but still able to pass the heat somehow.
It skirted the blackened burn visibly, but the heat that can’t be seen above the wavering air. The flames raced the fringes and caught back up with the fast-moving current of hot air where it had turned away from the volunteer fire fighters breathed from oxygen masks from their first bout. Whipped into a vortex, the rising wall of flames crackled upwards with lightning formed by its very chaotic scrambling of carbon. They weren’t worried about trouble. They knew trouble like the backs of their hands, whether they wanted it or not. This wasn’t like the dangers of the prison yard. This wasn’t trouble. Not just.
Quickly cowering together and covering themselves with their fire blankets. They were later found in the same position, as though in mass prayer.
by C. Massar
C. Massar is the author of two science fiction books and knows a thing or two about installing windows. He lives outside of Topeka with three cats and the mule Ted.
This piece was sparked by the prompt for Notebooking Daily‘s Fall Writing Exercise Series #111: Six Word Shootout with the Force 15 from 12/21/19.
NEXT PIECE: “Maybe Tonight” by Lynn White
Did you enjoy “Driven by Hellacious Winds” by C. Massar?
If you would like to nominate this piece for our year-end Reader’s Choice Award click here and donate. $1 = nomination. Please do not forget to mention the piece you’re nominating. To learn more about the award click here, but in short, the piece with the most $1 nominations at the end of the year will get half of the donated money, receive 20 copies of a limited edition broadside designed for their piece and have their post pinned to the front of the website for all of December. This is one of the only ways we raise money for the magazine in order to pay all of our wonderful writers and keep this lights on here at Sparked.
“Maybe Tonight” by Lynn White
Maybe Tonight
As I close my eyes
and meditate
to ease my mind,
I think of
calm blue water,
flowers and trees.
Maybe tonight
I’ll sleep
and my head will fill
with sweet dreams
of still water.
Maybe tonight
dreamily
drowsy
I’ll dream
of bathers
in a calm blue pool.
Maybe tonight I’ll sleep.
by Lynn White
Lynn White lives in north Wales. Her work is influenced by issues of social justice and events, places and people she has known or imagined. She has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize and a Rhysling Award. She can be found at her blog and on Facebook.
This piece was sparked by the prompt for Rattle’s September 2020 Monthly Ekphrastic Challenge (read the winner here). From the Image: “Pool Head” by Pat Singer
NEXT PIECE: Nope. Not until next month. Write new pieces and send them in!
Did you enjoy “Maybe Tonight” by Lynn White?
If you would like to nominate this piece for our year-end Reader’s Choice Award click here and donate. $1 = nomination. Please do not forget to mention the piece you’re nominating. To learn more about the award click here, but in short, the piece with the most $1 nominations at the end of the year will get half of the donated money, receive 20 copies of a limited edition broadside designed for their piece and have their post pinned to the front of the website for all of December. This is one of the only ways we raise money for the magazine in order to pay all of our wonderful writers and keep this lights on here at Sparked.
Editor’s Note:
This issue came together very organically and I think manages to meld quite a few different themes and moods, from a nice helping of mythology to imprisoned volunteer firefighters, motherhood to ‘ghosts’, both frenzy and calm, fire and cool water. We see prompts we’ve seen before, two very different responses to the same ekphrastic prompt, a prompt for an issue that isn’t out yet, a prompt from half a decade ago—and they’re all still good! None of those prompts have gone stale. You could (and I always encourage you to) go to the link for the inspiring prompt and give it your best shot and come up with an entirely different and unique piece. That’s why writing prompts and exercises are so great! I’ve done the same prompt for five completely different pieces over time—a good prompt is the gift that keeps on giving.
Speaking of the gift that keeps giving, my birthday happens to fall on the Summer Solstice this year, so I’m opening my other journal Coastal Shelf for a tiny one day submission window where you can submit one piece for no fee—prose under 1000 words, poetry under 60 lines. I liked the idea of getting a piece of writing ‘for my birthday’ for Coastal Shelf, even though we’re closed to normal submissions right now to catch up. These will have no feedback option, I’m sorry. Responding to the remaining feedback submissions that we’d been holding onto for this Summer issue is number one on my plate, once that issue is out too. This is one of those ‘only three times a year’ occurrences when the intended publication dates line up between Sparked and Coastal Shelf, so… boom. Both a little late.
I am continued to be astounded by the vastness of the prompting community. And I very much wish to reach more of you! The Rattle Ekphrastic Challenge community seems to be one of the most active but I would love to get more fiction! Those pieces that ended up too long for Furious Fiction or Notebooking Daily pieces or 3Elements shorts or whatever else you can think of. The Ekphrastic Review has a challenge that we’ve incorporated into our Prompting Partners. Chain: Response Poems from the wonderful journal Carousel is also a great recurring generative poetry prompt. That said, keep the Ekphrastic Challenge poems coming—they’re freaking awesome!