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Moon of Wandering

dead-reckoning-s

Moon of wandering:
door or window?  Marked by trails
of lingered friends.  Tears.

Untested. Eons before
and after.  Dead reckoning.

Once again I’ve combined the word prompts (or synonyms) of the secret keeper and Colleen’s tanka challenge.  Colleen also provided the mysterious picture, below.

dr-middle-s

Postcard Fiction: Empty Handed

1-why-inside-s

2-gone-silent-s

3-transparent-s

4-empty-handed-s

how come nobody
why inside why
gone silent
transparent breath
empty handed

644px-le_ballon-pierre_puvis_de_chavannes-img_8274

Jane Dougherty’s Sunday Strange Microfiction painting, above, by Pierre Puvis de Chavannes , is once again ambiguously suggestive.

how-come-nobody-s

And once again, as so often happens in these postcard fiction worlds, I see an opening that leads somewhere else…

 

 

Shadows Meet

tryst-s-grain

Time moves west;
 other worlds await.
Shadows meet
and merge, cast into darkness–
outlines projected against
the last light of day.

summerhouse silhouetted against a dawn sky

Inspired by Sue Vincent’s prompt, the photo titled “Tryst” , above.  I softened the original collage with a Photoshop filter to give it more of a dusky feeling.

Postcard Fiction: Something Waiting

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2-waiting-s

3-question-s

4-passage-s

here in the darkness
something waiting    a question
the passage between

Jane Dougherty’s “strange and creepy” prompt painting this week, by Gabriel von Max,  is mysterious and enigmatic.

gabriel-von-jane-painting

That shadow figure is definitely not bringing tidings of comfort and joy.

something-waiting-s

 

The Darkest Hour

fire-wands-s

Invisible to eyes in daylight
the future waits, unworn.  Questions
recast as fire, fate moving
backward to the crossroads.
Neither here nor there,
meeting places
disappear.
Not quite
lost.

Found
in dreams
that circle
unremembered.
Seeking refuge in
hidden meanings, beyond.
But when the journey divides
into before and after, what
prediction can find the line between?

flame

A response to Sue Vincent’s prompt this week, Flame.

In Trust (over and over again you recognize that you don’t exist yet)

dont-exist-yet-scan-s

And what will I give up?
Do I have to choose?
Will I know what I’ve done?
Or does someone take it?

The ghost of me breathing.
The step in the step back.
Cold light in warm darkness.
I will hold my shadow open.

for dVerse quadrille #26 ghost

Follow the Drinking Gourd

drinking-gourd-s

If the Devil calls,
sing powerful thoughts: a love
that composes hope.

Inscribe celestial paths,
showing the way to freedom.

For Black History Month, the Borough President’s office is hosting an exhibit of quilts by members of the New York Quilters of Color Network.  Some of the quilts incorporate patterns used as codes for travelers on the Underground Railroad.  Seeing the North Star pattern reminded me of the song “Follow the Drinking Gourd”–the drinking gourd being the dipper, home of Polaris, the North Star.

north-star-close-up-s

The North Star here is surrounded by another coded quilt pattern, the Wagon Wheel.  The words are from the secret keeper and Colleen’s tanka challenge this week.

The Fifth Fact
By Sarah Browning

For Ben’s project he must research five facts
about his African-American hero and write them
on posterboard. He chooses Harriet Tubman,
whose five facts are: Her father’s name was Ben.
Her mother’s name was Old Rit. She was born
in 1820 and died in 1913. She was born in Maryland
and died in New York. Ben asks for advice
about his fifth fact and I suggest: She led more than
300 people to freedom. Ben sighs the way he does
now and says, Everyone knows that, Mom.
You can read the rest of Sarah Browning’s wonderful poem here.
If only, Ben.  If only everyone knew their history.

Postcard Fiction: Tomorrow Never Knows

1-swimming-s

2-breathe-s

3-waves-s

4-moment-s

5-tomorrow-s

we’re swimming in air
we breathe    the stars shine
the waves send time deep

the moment faces the sea
tomorrow is eternal

Jane Dougherty’s Sunday challenge, below, inspired the usual shifting world.  The tanka formed quickly from my word box.

1024px-frederic-lord-leighton-greek-girls-picking-up-pebbles-by-the-sea-1871

Should we believe in yesterday?  or tomorrow?

tomorrow-never-knows-s

February 2017: Crows, Tides, Time

feb-2017-gird-crows-s

They end their flight
one by one–
crows at dusk
–Buson

crow-close-up-3

Shape-shifting in the gap,
the border of the map a light
of shadowing, not quite
prepared to reunite the tide
with ebb and flow implied
by intervals inside of time,
the pause between the line,
the missing paradigm unfilled,
the end of something.  Stilled.

low-tide

I’m a bit late with my February grid, but I thought it complemented Sue Vincent’s “Low Tide” prompt this week, so I did my own poem in response to both Buson and the photo (above).

crow-close-up-1

Once again, I tried a new poetry form; this one is Vietnamese.  It’s called Luc Bat, and you can read about it here.

Ark

ark-wht-s

The roles play reversed.
Rule disfigured, sundered, stoned,
pierced, dropped, broken, torn.

Craft opening: earth rising,
an ark with room for all.  All.

Tanka for Colleen’s weekly challenge, using also the Secret Keeper’s words.