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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.

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.

 

Toward

toward s

Air
sharper
now—the cold
transforms sunset
clouds with furied
winds—far away you drive
distances, all bearings lost–
here alone, I wish for headwinds
to turn your wheels around—back to me

Colleen’s #tanka Tuesday words this week are meaning and passion.  The winds have certainly been impassioned here of late.

toward close up s

Happy Valentine’s Day!  I hope all your loved ones are on their way home.

 

forms die and are reborn

forms die sforms die magnetic s

I’m a bit late to the Oracle today.  She must be out there riding the wind…

forms die close up s

ships of light
above heaving seas–
moon winds bare
openings
that release time’s shadow storms
through a thousand doors

 

Cloud Forest (Draw a Bird Day)

el oro 2s

Outside the visible, the veil persists, a misted crown,
a canopy to shelter woodlands from both up and down–
the spirits dance their circles through the portals of the clouds,
beyond enclosure following the songs of the unknown.

With wings of color bearing light and magic on the air,
the alchemy of green and gold renews and then repairs
this ancient symbiosis moored to currents at its core
awakening new seeds, building a bridge from here to there.

The El Oro Parakeet is an endangered bird living in the Andes cloud forest of Southwestern Ecuador.  Cloud forests are also endangered throughout the world.  You can read about them here.

el oro head s

This is my first attempt at a rubaiyat poem, the featured form at dVerse for February.  I could not make 13 syllables work, so I ended up with 14.  I also fudged the rhymes a bit.  I don’t usually write long lines, and that was what I found to be the biggest challenge for me.