Draw-a-Bird Day: Barn Owl

ghost owl face s

White wings
carrying souls
listening to shadows
navigating the deepest night
ghost owl
navigating the deepest night
listening to shadows
opening worlds
beyond

A mirror cinquain for Colleen’s #tanka Tuesday, poet’s choice of words.

I love the faces of owls.  The barn owl can look quite ghostly, especially at night, and yet there are also many colors reflected in the feathers.  Barn owls are found almost everywhere in the world.

barn owl face s

The Owl can be the familiar to Athena’s wisdom or to Lilith as goddess of Death.  Or both at the same time, perhaps.

Also linking to dVerse Open Link Night, hosted this week by Grace.

 

Emu/Draw a Bird 3/8/19

I admire the emu, the second largest bird and a native of Australia. It is a flightless bird but seems happy regardless. Happy Draw a Bird Day!

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.

Verging

verging s

Opening, we become desconstructed by the wind–
returned to air and light
we become shadows,
we become veils and mirrors

Returned to air and light
we become vessels and messengers–
we become veils and mirrors,
we become what is seen with closed eyes

We become vessels and messengers,
we become feathers and then wings–
we become what is seen with closed eyes
and we dance like birds flying

verging right s

We become feathers and then wings–
we become the not that is–
as we dance like birds flying
we become the pull of the unknown

We become the not that is,
we become the winter that becomes spring–
we become the pull of the unknown,
of summer that falls always into winter again

verging left s

We become the winter that becomes spring,
reflecting the outline of what isn’t there–
of summer that falls always into winter again,
a framework for revenants

Reflecting the outline of what isn’t there,
we become shadows,
a framework for revenants–
opening, we become deconstructed by the wind

A pantoum for Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, above.  This one is unrhymed.  I think you can play with the form and still keep the circle if you keep the repetition of lines in place, and I always like to have the first and last lines be the same.  Here’s another one I did for one of Sue’s photos last year that also involves openings:  We Sleep.

verging center s

dVerse is featuring the Pantoum for the month of March.  You can read about it and follow the link to the the ever-growing library of poems here.

 

Night Visions (Moon Totem #2)

moon totem 2s

the matrix of my dream emerges
from dark mirrors, casting outlines
of stories on particles
of air—constellated
points of glittered light
following the
movements of
inner
moons

A nonet for Colleen’s #TankaTuesday with synonyms for origin and write.

I did a bunch of these moon totems in 2017 and meant to do more, but the project got sidetracked by life.  I found this one in a drawer…I know the others are around somewhere.  Perhaps they are hiding with the birdlings, also missing since I moved.

 

March 2019 spring?

 

March 19 grid 2s

march magnetic

There’s 4 inches of snow here with more to come tomorrow, but the Oracle was insistant on the arrival of spring…it’s certainly a nice thought.

Spring comes wandering
covers my sleep with flowers
blankets of birdsong

 

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!

Acquisition ~ rubaiyat

Ken honors me with his (as always) thoughtful and hopeful response.

rivrvlogr

Acquisition

I hold aloft what holds me down,
My sense of self, as yet unsound.
No sense of where my mind should be,
My troubles named, within me found.

And yet this weight that’s placed on me
Need not be what the world should see.
Acknowledging that I’m not bound
May offer possibilities.

All month, I held off from attempting to write a rubaiyat, finding no interest in the form. I guess I just needed something to write about. I found that in Kerfe Roig’s Inquisition. I left this as a comment, and I’m just under the wire for Frank Hubeny’s month-long prompt at dVerse, Poetry Forms: Rubaiyat.  This is written in iambic tetrameter, with a rhyme scheme of AABA BBAB.

Image source: pngtree.com

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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.

A poem and a sketch

Kerfe gave me a set of magnetic poetry words and they are cool. At her urging (I’ve been pretty dormant) I illustrated a poem. Here’s the poem.

I think it cool that you can see my reflection in the metal easel. Very windy in NJ this morning but yesterday I saw some little snowbell flowers emerging from the earth!