Tag Archive | landscape

June 2019

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june poem magnetic

summer sky sings
away shadow music
into gardens of sealight–
daydreams shining beneath
an enormous jeweled sun

The Oracle gave me a sunny day.  I needed it.

 

Reveiled

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We are tracing broken shadowed dreams,
lines that curve and end up on the edge–
these places that come back
and close the door

Lines that curve and end up on edges
that cannot be reached
through any door–
both sides spiraling

They cannot be breached–
they remain, still, abandoned
by both sides, spiraling,
bathed in an untranslatable light

They remain still, abandoned–
we freeze them into frames
bathed in an untranslatable light–
we want to keep them safe, unchanged

We freeze them into frames
that hold our lives like clenched fists–
we want to keep ourselves safe, unchanged,
imprisoned in a maze of rooms

We hold our lives in clenched fists
that deny the landscape of after–
imprisoned in a maze of rooms
from the country of before

Lost in the landscape of after,
these places come back
from the country of before–
we are tracing broken shadowed dreams

transition

A pantoum for Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, above.

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I Consider the Threshold

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What walks with me,
neither ahead nor behind?
What casts its shadow beside?

What remains when I am gone?
What leaves me in its wake?
Who follows what follows after?

Does thought have a clock?
Are memories past if they are present–
do ideas exist only in the frame of time?

Which landscape is real–
the one attached to gravity,
or the one with wings?

For Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, above, and the NaPoWriMo prompt of what if?

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I haven’t consulted the Oracle yet today, but she sent a message anyway.

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Otherworld

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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.

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

Ancestors

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My ancestors linger in every word I say,
the muted phrases and images that occupy
the dreams in the sequestered corners of my mind,
hesitating between darkness and light of day

My ancestors linger in the prayers left behind,
unexpected melodies, songs upon the wind
opening windows into transformed cloistered spheres,
a fracturing of landscapes, the earth unconfined

My ancestors linger as seas on summer air,
as darkness covering the winter of the year,
as harvests of colors released by autumn’s trees,
as cells that stir when spring awakens, reappears

Another rubaiyat, for Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, above.  The stone looks very much like a hand reaching out to me.

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I was repeating one of my grandmother’s sayings to myself, which made me think of all the ways I repeat and echo the members of my family.  Probably in ways I don’t even realize, and further afield than I will ever understand.

You can read more ribaiyat poetry at the dVerse link, here.

 

Quickening

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Put it together–
give it wings, luminescence–
send it like a star

joining myth to mystery,
the unkempt shadows of night—

Go, fill it with sound,
ringing and dancing around
the core of the tree—

Mend its beginning, the dark
of the seeded centering—

Release it into
exhalations of wonder,
a netted ceiling

filling the cracked branches with
a shared ancestry of light

For Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, above.  It goes nicely with my theme today of branches.

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unforsaken

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unforsaken magnetic

I thought I would visit the Oracle this week to see what She had to say about Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, above.

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  I had already done my painting, and I guess it’s not surprising that the Oracle confirmed that many treasures lie below the surface, even in the darkest times.

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rocks breathe ancient bones,
fertile earth of pure starlight–
deep spirit rivers

climbing windpaths into air–
the murmuring of seedsong

 

Incompletion

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Tomorrow it will be gone–
this false night,
this held breath–
we are undreamed.

Light falls scattered
without gravity,
a sliver of reflected time–
tomorrow it will be gone,

out there towards never.
It resembles matter,
although it has no form–
this false night,

pure, unbroken–
(that’s what I imagine–
healed and levitating into always)
This held breath—

it neither comes nor goes.
Listening, it does not reply–
(we’ve lost our knowledge of sleep)–
we are undreamed.

For Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, above.  Another mysterious landscape.

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Another cascade poem.

 

Opening Echo

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Unintended pause–
folding the absence inward,
into the presence

Keeping the hidden—the not
that fills the where without end

For Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, above.  What wonderful colors to work with!  A magical fairy tale setting.

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The Far Elsewhere

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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.

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