It’s May! I haven’t done any artwork for a month, having used art from the archives for my April NaPoWriMo posts at kblog. So it felt good yesterday to ignore the moving boxes and pull out my watercolors and paint. I did two paintings, below–a landscape and some impressionistic flowers.
I then cut them into one inch strips and wove them together for my grid. I also did some further experiments, cutting some of the strips into one inch squares and arranging them in different ways. But that’s for another day with more time to think.
The moon visited me at dawn yesterday. It was dancing with the clouds. The Oracle managed to insert it into my May verse. Well we know how She feels about the moon.
wild winds grow full
listen to Maysongs
birds seeding spring air
with gardens rooted deep
in the fertile paths
that follow the wandering moon
what dream is this? circling
spiralling into form
slipstreamed fertile reborn
Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday theme is dreams, so I’ve written a variety of dream poems for March, a dreamy month I think. I’ve interspersed some of my previous March grids.
in March I
rains that be
come sun-dappled spring—shining,
blooming with birdwings
part of the landscape
begin to dance
with waves of light, singing
sun into roots, filling
my nights with dreams
Poetic forms are, in order, abhanga, shadorma, haiku, badger’s hexastitch.
remnants of autumn bending
landscapes into dreams
beneath winter’s frost
ancient stonesongs murmur
from seed to spring
haiku and gogyohka from the Oracle
condensed into light–
gold tinged with tides,
rising and falling
I did a similar grid with circles a few years ago, but I’ve always wanted to give it another try. As with the last one, I first painted a landscape (wishing I had my gouache, but done with watercolor), then cut it up, rearranged it, and added collage dots from my collage box. Here’s the original landscape:
David Hockney-ish I think. Not my usual style, and perhaps a bit brighter than I intended. But I like the colors.
I’ve done a tanka for Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday form challenge, which also works for Frank Tassone’s challenge of harvest moon. The paint oracle is totally responsible for turning my moon painting into a tree.
My new view of the full moon. I have to catch it when it passes between the buildings.
we were when
I stand alone surrounded by distances, covered with a vast blue, green layered behind and below. I have come to the precipice to find my place in the landscape. I intended to bring beautiful words, to leave poetic gifts as tokens on the wind, to tie threads of song to the sky.
But I find nothing more is required of me than to be here, present, alive.
to the earth
For Colleen’s #Tanka Tuesday, a haibun inspired by the photo provided by Frank Tassone, above.
I’ve had this song on my mind for awhile.
also linked to earthweal open link weekend
journey like a river,
found in the places
that are always home
sing the music of oceans
weaving patterns of mercy–
journey like a river
become part of each movement,
every path transformed,
found in all places
pass along what has been given–
ride the sky like the wind,
always at home
Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, above, immediately made me think of Paul Simon’s “Peace Like a River”–and that made me think of “American Tune”–hence the 2 part title. The poem is a cascade, always a good form when writing about water.
Sue titled her photo “Yearning” and I think that’s an emotion Paul Simon captures well.
…and I dreamed I was flying…
summer sky sings
away shadow music
into gardens of sealight–
daydreams shining beneath
an enormous jeweled sun
The Oracle gave me a sunny day. I needed it.
We are tracing broken shadowed dreams,
lines that curve and end up on the edge–
these places that come back
and close the door
Lines that curve and end up on edges
that cannot be reached
through any door–
both sides spiraling
They cannot be breached–
they remain, still, abandoned
by both sides, spiraling,
bathed in an untranslatable light
They remain still, abandoned–
we freeze them into frames
bathed in an untranslatable light–
we want to keep them safe, unchanged
We freeze them into frames
that hold our lives like clenched fists–
we want to keep ourselves safe, unchanged,
imprisoned in a maze of rooms
We hold our lives in clenched fists
that deny the landscape of after–
imprisoned in a maze of rooms
from the country of before
Lost in the landscape of after,
these places come back
from the country of before–
we are tracing broken shadowed dreams
A pantoum for Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, above.