Tag Archive | landscape

The Far Elsewhere

the far elsewhere 2s

Defined by what it is not–
every particle of light
silent, startling.

A journey neither up nor down,
neither here nor there–
defined by what it is not.

Centered in the outer reaches,
jeweled and huge–
every particle of light.

Remaining as day becomes night,
as seasons fall apart and rearrange themselves–
silent, startling.

For Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, above.  The poem is a cascade, a similar form to the pantoum which I have been using so much lately.

the far elsewhere 2 close up s

 

 

Revisioning

revisioning_watcher s

Trespassing, I sleep
in the underneath, reversed,
bedimmed, unlanded

by growth darkened with endings–
upside down, planted in stone.

For Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, above, and Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday words, synonyms for change and defy.

watcher close up s

 

 

Abundance

abundance 2 comp s

Fruit decays
and becomes its seed,
abandoned,
earthcovered–
in departing it arrives,
abiding, waiting,

becoming–
is it a choice? Who
chooses which
seeds take root?
Is it a random journey
sleepwalking, rising

into orbed
skies, into flowers,
into green
and wildness,
reaching outward reaching through–
bequeathed into self?

For Sue Vincent’s photo prompt above.  In my default form, shadorma.

abundance close up 2s

Interrupted by Form

bone circle s

How do we
return the gift of
death?  How do
we unfold
the wrapping, respond to bone
disrobed and fragile?

How do we
sweep the sky, catch soul
patterns made
of flying
light?  How do we count the years
back into remains?

Inspired by Sue Vincent’s photo prompt above.

bone circle close up s

 

August 2018

august 18 grid s

Sun fractures my sight–
eyes squinting—landscape breaking–
fevered, tense, thirsting

Elemental oasis–
shifting from was to will be

Back to my monthly grid and another collage.

august 18 grid close up s

The world indeed seems to be in retrograde right now.  Perhaps the tide will turn soon…

 

Marker

marker close up s

If I rise,
cleave into landscape,
will I merge
with background,
become boundless?  Be part of
instead of apart?

A shadorma for Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, above.  I haven’t been working in collage for awhile, so it felt good to get out scissors and paste again.

marker s

Tea with the Oracle

jm 4b blk s

tea with the Oracle

jm 4b cat dog bear butterfly s

teacup spilling clouds
of moon fruit–
tendriled secrets
from rivers of flowers–
thick with the wild longing
of animal song wandering
through birdwind

jm4b bear bird s

 

Today for NaPoWriMo Day 14 we are dreaming–who better to consult than the Magnetic Oracle?

jm 4b dino dog bear s

logo-napowrimo

 

Draw-a-Bird Day: Birdlings are Back

road to nowhere s

The Motions of Molecules

Appearing
suddenly,
the patterns compose
themselves.  Shapes
of silence.  Supplicants to
the definitive.

birdlings close up 3s

This will be my last post for awhile.  Continuing my nomadic lifeI will be moving uptown 10 blocks.

birdlings close up 1as

The birdlings will be coming along.

birdlings close up 4s

And I plan on being back for NaPoWriMo.  It’s just around the corner…

Between

between full comp

The path connects the path divides,
the sky is rising like a tree–
the ending moves, retreats, and hides
what is, is not, has yet to be.

The sky is rising like a tree,
the land grows following behind
what is, is not, has yet to be–
an offering returned in kind.

The land grows following behind
the dance of water, spirits, earth–
an offering returned in kind–
a trance, a dream, remembered birth.

A dance of water, spirits, earth–
the ending moves, retreats and hides
a trance, a dream, remembered birth–
the path connects the path divides.

A pantoum for Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, above.  I love the rhythm of circular dance that this form always evokes for me.

between close up wood s

I photographed the art on many many backgrounds; it looked different on each one.  But I kept going back to these two:  vivid blue and wood floor.  Each brings out a different aspect of the painting/collage.

between close up blue s

 

Sanctuary

sanctuary s

The day is grey
along the way
forever dying

I don’t know why
but somehow I
just feel like crying

The day is leaving
and it’s deceiving me

No one is near
to stop the fear
within me growing

That moments past
are all my last
without me knowing

The day’s been taken
and it’s forsaking me.

I wrote that song as a teenager caught in the aloneness and isolation of my adolescent angst. Self-indulgent?  Yes.  But that grey world was often very real to me.  It seems strange that a young life so full of possibility would get caught in such a spiraling web of hopelessness.

Of course I’ve never stopped having my moments of self-doubt and gloom. I spent much of 2017 in an intense and draining state of anger at the world, for instance.  But over the years I’ve learned to keep moving, always looking for an opening that leads out of that self-perpetuating labyrinth, one that can pull me into a place where I can reconnect with the world.  Eventually, my vision clears; the color returns.

At the end of this
circular tunnel, a door–
the light welcomes me.

Sue Vincent’s photo prompt this week, above, reminded me immediately of that song I wrote at 16 or 17 (amazing that I still know all the words, right?).

sanctuary close up s

And that I may have actually learned a thing or two between then and now.