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over and over

 

never ending

eternity magnetic s

What dark fire is this
melting the air with fresh blood?
endless broken days,

ghost voices lingering in
an eternity of tears

 

beyond lines and measures

beyond lines and measures s

The moon pauses, listening–
a painted backdrop bathed in blue,
a song returning to its beginnings–
Is it a permanent fixture or a trick of light?

A painted backdrop bathed in blue,
a tunnel lined with apparitions–
is it a permanent fixture or a trick of light?
The world approaches blackness,

a tunnel lined with apparitions,
lost in the far realms of the spectrum.
The world approaches blackness,
a stillness that eliminates the horizon.

Lost in the far realms of the spectrum,
unseen crows echo across the gap
with a stillness that eliminates the horizon–
is this the voice that calls the dying?

Unseen crows echo across the gap—
(there should be weeping)–
is this the voice that calls the dying?
There is not enough air here to hold my tears.

There should be weeping,
there should be an explosion of colors pulling at the soul–
but there is not enough air here to hold tears,
to keep the promise of breath.

There should be an explosion of colors pulling at the soul–
infinite branches of trees crowned with rainbows of wings.
How to keep the promise of breath,
to find the path of stars that carries the spirit home?

Branches, trees, rainbows, wings:
will you return life to its beginning?
Find me the path of stars that carries the spirit home–
the moon pauses, listening.

Another (non-rhyming) pantoum, for the Myths of the Mirror prompt for March, above.  dVerse is featuring pantoums this month, and Victoria has just written a post with suggestions to help in the writing of this form.

beyond lines and measures close up s

I would also like to dedicate these words to The Secret Keeper, whose passing was noted by her friend Shawn this week.  The many poems she inspired with her prompts live on.

 

Otherworld

otherworld wht s

Our years collected and worn–
blurred images of moving light,
multiplied as remnants of form
in a place where days have no weight

Blurred images of moving light,
wandering rooted yet unearthed–
in a place where days have no weight
our location is always inferred

Wandering rooted yet unearthed,
entwined in threads of air–
our location is always inferred
like outlines of skeletal prayer

Entwined in threads of air,
our voices echo in disarray–
like outlines of skeletal prayer,
a presence hovering halfway

Our voices echo in disarray–
unbodied, but too tangled to deny–
a presence hovering halfway,
an absence dancing in the sky

Unbodied, but too tangled to deny–
multiplied as remnants of form–
our absence dancing in the sky,
our years collected and worn

Another pantoum, for Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, above.  This started out as a very different poem, but I think the Oracle is still hanging around.

otherworld close up s

dVerse is featuring the Pantoum this month.  In case you haven’t noticed, it’s a form I like a lot.

Of Water She Speaks

of water s

of water magnetic s

The Oracle keeps her eye on the weather.

of water close up s

I took the title from a proverb, no doubt also the work of the Oracle:

“The moon, her face be red,
Of water she speaks.”

Must light have storms?

Goddess of purple mist
dreams the sky away
with rain

Ask the sun
about blue wind and red seas,
the enormous moon and the thousand ships
that go from here to there
from delirious to mad

 

Overcast

overcast s

Seeds catch the air, scattering, dispersing, falling. They burrow under the earth, embedded, laden with green.  They wait to be painted in rainbows, to laugh with joy as they open and seek the sky.  They remember the kisses of bees.

The North Wind pushes back, sunless and relentless, chilling its moisture into frozen blankets of grey.

Sleeplessness holds me–
I like awake, listening,
heavy with the dark.

overcast close up s

Merril at dVerse asked us to consider March Madness, using the haibun form.

Contradiction (revised)

img_2417-1

We play at fairness: love and war,
we draw a rainbow in the sky,
this is our answer, nothing more–
we turn away when people die

We draw a rainbow in the sky
and color in the shapes of hearts
then turn away when people die–
we sing the sun but hold the dark

We color in the shapes of hearts
as outstretched hands form iron fists–
we sing the sun but hold the dark
in knots that we cannot untwist

Our outstretched hands form iron fists
containing all that we deny–
these knots that we cannot untwist
hold replicas that do not lie

Our words repeat what we deny–
this is our answer, nothing more–
where are the ones that do not lie?
we play at fairness:  love and war

The very first pantoum I wrote was for one of Jane Dougherty’s challenges in March 2016.  It was inspired by my co-blogger Nina’s drawing, above.  Since dVerse is featuring the pantoum form for the month of March, I thought I would begin with a revision of that first one.  You can see the original here.

contrdictions 2bs

I also did a collage to illustrate it.

In 2016 I did another pantoum for one of Jane’s challenges.  That one could use revision as well, and I hope to give it a try.

Last year I was stuck in circles, and posted 9 pantoums.  I’ll link to some of them as the month goes on.  So I’m looking forward to a March full of new attempts–thanks Gina!

inquisition

inquisition s

Where do I hide?  I build this tree,
the branches tangled over me,
I ask myself:  how will I know
what voids this curse?  what sets me free?

I sit and sit. The hours grow.
The birds have wings—they come and go.
My rhythm cannot hold their song.
How can I breathe?  What cries the crow?

My body emptying skin to bone,
my mind hardening into stone,
falling like silence to the ground–
How do I bide?  I lie alone.

The sea and sky cannot be found.
Memories circle round and round,
searching for possibility–
How am I held?  Where am I bound?

inquisition close up s

Frank at dVerse has asked us to consider blame and forgiveness.  And a final rubaiyat for the month of February, with short lines this time.

 The hardest person to forgive is often yourself.

In a Land of Birds

in a land of birds wht s

Wake up in a land of birds.
the holy chaos unfolds outside borders.
Expect owls,
spirit circles orbiting stars.

Some people find it uncomfortable–
so much is random–
we can’t explain it, ever.

Take a chance–
spread your wings.
Nothing is hidden
when wonder takes flight.

See the source image

I’ve been worrying this collage all week.  It’s inspired by a painting by Redon, “Silence”, above.

face close up s

I decided to consult the Collage Box Oracle and She was insistent on the inclusion of birds.

owl close up s

She knows the answer, as always.

nothing is hidden s

can't explain close up s

spread your wings s

The Looming Unknown

the looming unknown s

My dreams fall
over the edge of
the fullness
of moons vast
with perplexity and play–
rapt with lunacy

the looming unknown close up s

A shadorma for Colleen’s #Tanka Tuesday words, trouble and game.

Also linking to dVerse open link night, hosted by Lillian.

 

Transitional

transitional s

The earth has its own song–lavish, extravagantly
saturated with rich hue—voices that fall gently,
multiplying as they emerge–seeds that spill, turning,
unseen, marinating in the music of to be

To watch to walk the day and hold the descant, breathing
following the wind in liquid sky awash, swimming
full and boundless, basking in the light of distant orbs
as the air chills, covers itself—radiant, waiting

Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, above, seemed perfect for a rubaiyat emphasizing imagery, as requested by Jilly at dVerse.  This time I managed 13 syllable lines.

transitional close up s

The rubaiyat is the poetic form at dVerse for the month of February, and I expect to try at least one more.