Draw a Bird Day: Hoopoe

I Ask the Hoopoe Three Questions

In my dreams I am always traveling: as Joni says, “looking for something, what can it be?”  My home is the stairway down to the subway, up to the train platform, watching the landscape moving beside the bus.

Here I am again, on the road…in the median I see the bird—huge, red crested, black and white striped wings. I step off the highway into the lush green.

Hoopoe is both real and mythical.  It is associated with death, war, and disease, but also with purity, virtue and leadership. Sometimes it is a messenger between heaven and earth.

I like best the hoopoe in the Sufi story-poem, “The Conference of the Birds”.

What did you
find at the end of
your journey?
Dark and light
intermingling inside your
eye?  Do you know Crow?

I really did have this dream, and spent a few days online looking for the bird.  I knew the hoopoe from the Sufi story, but I don’t think I knew what it really looked like.  It’s a beauty!  dVerse also had a prompt earlier in the week about hometowns, which was the starting point for my haibun .

You can read about “The Conference of the Birds” here.  And I highly recommend Peter Sis’ beautifully illustrated version of it, which you can read about here.

And any excuse for some Joni Mitchell (I was at this concert).

Happy Draw-a Bird Day!

Repent

Desire is hidden
up our sleeves, playing us with
serendipity

Joker’s wild with make-believe
(better hide those foolish hearts)

I’ve bent everything here–prompts, forms, words, cards.

The prompt words are from Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday, but liberties have been taken with the tanka.  Also inspired by–although not really following–the dVerse pentimento prompt (well, pentimento does mean “to repent” in Italian), and a poem I wrote awhile ago based on Laura Nyro’s “Flim Flam Man”.

I do love that Joker/Fool card too.

Fare Thee Well (Year of the Rooster)

“When your rooster crows at the break a dawn
Look out your window and I’ll be gone…”
–Bob Dylan, “Don’t Think Twice, It’s All Right”

You say you’re leaving–
but your crowing lingers,
louder than the blackest cry,

echoing down that dark side
where your soul wanders, lost,
afraid to open either window or door.

Did you really once love?
I wonder not why, but how–
how and where and who—

Who? The call that you can’t hear
is not for you.  Not your name,
but a chorus for a new dawn—

(when you’ll be gone)–bound
for a land beyond the telling.
It’s all right then; it’s all right.

It’s Draw-a-Bird Day, and I’d like to say (almost) good-bye to the Year of the Rooster.  I did 3 Bird Day posts with roosters last year, but my initial post, for the Chinese New Year in 2017, has an eerie similarity to this (not so fond) goodbye.  As I said in that post: “The disruption of the Year of the Monkey gives way to more intensity….the cockiness of the Year of the Rooster.  Most of the predictions I read online for 2017 were not too positive.  They recommended keeping your head down, staying organized, and working hard.”  My poem even mentioned the Dark Side.

Let’s hope the Year of the Dog is kinder to birds (and all other living creatures as well).

 

 

Blue (where are you going?)

From here a line, a border,
the horizon.  From there, shapes
patterned in shades of indigo.
From everywhere.  Scattering blue stardust.

Skies changing in rhythm
with the planet, encircling.  The night
that follows day that follows night.
From here a line, a border,

paths seeking yonder, wild,
a prelude to unwritten chords.
Mirrors that merge into
the horizon.  From there, shapes

following the ripples in the fabric
of years, dark and light.  The collision
that becomes its opposite.  Waves
patterned in shades of indigo.

Almost nothing. As old as the universe,
born again, dying.  Becoming again,
a point of turning.  Echoing
from everywhere.  Scattering blue stardust.

This cascade poem is in response to Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, above.  It was also inspired by Maria Popova and all the links in her end of the year rumination, “In Praise of the Telescopic Perspective”, and, (with a title “Blue” how could I not think of her?) Joni Mitchell.

“We are stardust”–yes we are!  Now if only those bombers really DID turn into butterflies…

Fly Me to the Moon

the textbook opens to page 13 (for Laura Nyro)

If you could
learn to be lucky–
if you could
hitch pathways
to stars–would the road go on
infinitely, light?

Bottoms fall
out and down with luck,
mirroring
in reverse
the patterns so recently
aligned in those stars.

Why not drink
of sweet blind dumb luck?
Tempt fate to
work its will?
Why not open the gates to
floods of temptation?

Floating boats
on darkened rivers,
out of hands
to lend—out
of sight the treasure map–
out of luck the tide.

 

The birdlings are back…in this case, it’s serendipity.  “The Song Is…” blog has published several of my works inspired by Laura Nyro and Joni Mitchell (the Joni piece appeared here already).  The above poem appears on the blog with a different piece of artwork, but this one was also done for the Laura Nyro theme.

And to prove how much I have always liked and used the shadorma form…also serendipitously for along the interstice and Shadorma November…

 

 

Hope in a Hopeless World

Nina and I will be taking a break for a little while.  Nothing major, just lots of Things To Do.  In the meantime, I’ll leave you with some thoughts from Phil Roy.

Learning to Fly

Working on a mystery, going where it leads.  Into the great wide open under skies of blue.  Will you sail into the heavens, constellations in your eyes?  A red-winged hawk is circling.

White light cuts a scar in the sky.  Take it to the heart; face up to your soul.  Stand in the moonlight.  You belong somewhere you feel free.

The shape of the mist–
feels like something from a dream–
you’re learning to fly.

Songs quoted: Running Down a Dream, Into the Great Wide Open, The Dark of the Sun, You and I Will Meet Again, Luna, The Waiting, You Can Still Change Your Mind, Only a Broken Heart, Wildflowers, The Waiting, Learning to Fly

Words from Tom Petty and Colleen’s poetry challenge.

A word (or two…)

As usual, the Oracle reflected my mood.  Thinking of Walter Becker, and the wonderful words and music he made with Donald Fagan.

Any major dude with half a heart surely will tell you my friend
Any minor world that breaks apart falls together again
When the demon is at your door
In the morning it won’t be there no more
Any major dude will tell you
–from “Any Major Dude” by Donald Fagan and Walter Becker

I was lucky enough to see Steely Dan many times.  Each time different and equally wonderful.

That’s Walter Becker on guitar.  Forever playing in the Tower of Song.

hello makes people
grow big smiles—the mystery
and power of words

 

Black Noise

Does the shadow know?
like wind projecting time–
shifted dark and light

For Colleen’s poetry challenge this week, another question involving shadow and light.

Does the fool rush in?
black noise dissolves the punch line–
laughter sailing tears

And because I can’t leave well enough alone, answering with the words of the Secret Keeper’s challenge as well.

The art also contains layers–a monoprint which was then painted and collaged with tissue paper, with a piece cut from an earlier collage laid over it, photographed on top of both black and white grounds.

Then some shadows and light from Joni and the Persuasions to finish.

Blue (all I want)

I’ve been to sea before
I’ve been to sky between
I’ve gathered gifts of air
the road under my skin

I’ve asked the why and where
the where of going round
the why of what I seek
the where of why I’m bound

I’m bound to sail away
my mind tells me to roam
but anchors pull my heart
and sing my wandering home

I’ll sing a lullaby
of needle under skin
the waves will help me fly
the spiral shell within

I had been working on this collage, so the dVerse prompt for a song spurred me to finish it.  In our mid-teens, my best friend Alfie and I would play our guitars with the radio on and write our own songs for hours, either at her house or mine, but I haven’t written any lyrics since then.  Where are all those songs now?–I don’t know, although I do strangely remember one, a love song I wrote for her when she had a crush on a boy she met over one summer.

And Joni…this song (and album) are just about perfect.  Always lodged in my brain.

Alfie and Joni:

Here is a shell for you
Inside you’ll hear a sigh
A foggy lullaby
There is your song from me