I had set the deadline of 12:00pm (UK time) for words to be submitted for inclusion in the poem, when I posted it I had included all the words that had been submitted via the Nuneaton Poetry Day, email, facebook and twitter accounts. – I did not check my personal accounts and on checking this morning I found two submissions that were posted before the 12:00pm deadline, so I think it is only fair to include them. -I have therefore added the words into the word list and also to the poem – which now reads as follows:
In a single Moment
Collaborative poem from the world to Nuneaton Summer Poetry Day.
The ambidextrous clap themselves
for single handedly building steam powered computers,
whilst the Levellers emphasise the popular need for purple
and black in these gothic times.
Free spirits shift their shapes into places and make homes,
saying “welcome we are Kami”.
The splendiferous can not decide on their monikers
and so make up words, bemuddled.
Tourists marvel at the Roman, Medieval and modern
as they sit together upon the seven hills.
South Africans, greet us with “Dumula”
and put fresh ribs on the Braai saying “come and eat”.
Whilst in Ottawa there is a conundrum,
should the girl from Cork, go to lectures
or the market to eat beaver tails with hazelnut and chocolate.
The seeds of ice, rooted to the bedrock,
take away the tundra weeds on Alaskan winds,
as the Washington set, hunt for conch and cinder among the dunes
and declare the blabby days as times for family picnics,
as they ascend the Eastsound dock.
The English pagans wash their floors with lant liquids
to cleanse the mind,body and Kami,
Californian crows caw-caw as their sharp scalpel wings
drive through the flesh air at sunset,
where on its rise in the North island,
little Scotland, the tartan gumboots
stir the slow curmudgeonly ceilidh
until reaching the efflorescence of the reel,
melliflous to some, but to others a prelude to serendipity,
mere foibles of the passage,
in Burton, the breweries pour another pint,
malcontent with lesser brews,
in Droitwich, a poet polishes brass buttons
with all the gusto of a circus troupe
whilst in Birmingham, once city of thousand trades,
inchoate poets are making poetry that bites,
as Langland’s sleepy mountains dream
in the blue of lapis lazuli,
and in Nuneaton, Warwickshire,
the poets slam their own sixty seconds
and then head to the Crown to drink in these words.
Mal Dewhirst in collaboration with the poets on the Word list.
(c) 2011 All Rights Reserved.