[The following ‘found poem’ is constructed from ‘read-back’ lines from last week’s writers on the theme of ‘laughter.’ Sometimes the resulting poem reflects the mood and theme of the week; sometimes it turns things on their head. The only ‘rule’ is that lines remain unchanged except for an occasional tweaking of verb tense. The resulting poem is a kind of community creation, each woman’s words woven into a new whole.]

Ice islands
buried deep in the walls
holding these women from the sun
stagnates laughter that should thrive;

in the sick twisted dark
beauty and truth collide
cast away like skipped stones.
Angry screams in cement walls

open up a pathway
to daylight where laughter lives,
spills from our lungs
springs from our eyes;

a free place in our soul
giggles and squeals
tossed into the waves,
a world of enthusiasm and opportunity.

A circle of 7 laughs wildly
roots us to centuries of women,
sprouts wings to escape
our boring old sanity

in the name of good mental health.
Remember the shared laughter
the heaving rhythm, the raucous affair;
he cannot steal back our guffaws.

Joyful chaos reigns, the great release
feeds off our smiles
shines from within the soul –
turns us into stuffed bears

bent and convulsing,
a comedic island
free from our lives,
one ground of peace and clarity.