what dream is this? circling
spiralling into form
slipstreamed fertile reborn
Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday theme is dreams, so I’ve written a variety of dream poems for March, a dreamy month I think. I’ve interspersed some of my previous March grids.
in March I
rains that be
come sun-dappled spring—shining,
blooming with birdwings
part of the landscape
begin to dance
with waves of light, singing
sun into roots, filling
my nights with dreams
Poetic forms are, in order, abhanga, shadorma, haiku, badger’s hexastitch.
are the days
moving on, circling
through? or are
they giving up, slowing down,
following the un
of tidings reaching for shore
lines that aren’t there–echos of
from folds of pages–
not maps, but
sparkling against the stardust
of reflected nights–
there and then not now
as omens—uncaught, eddied
by prevailing winds
For my February grid, another mandala. We are still mired in confusing times. Too many trees, not enough forest.
Sometimes a change of perspective can clarify, or at least calm the stormy seas.
My poem Upon a Time, inspired by “Spinning Flax”, by Maria Martinetti, below, is posted on The Ekphrastic Review today.
hushabye, don’t cry–
all the pretty horses fly
shining starborne dreams
You can read the entire poem here.
My thanks once again to editor Lorette C. Luzajic for supporting my work and the interaction between the visual and written arts.
tree lights sparkling
music and kitchen cheer
exchanging gifts of Love Actu
Colleen’s challenge this week was to write a cinquain reflecting our Christmas traditions. A tree with lights, music, cooking (especially those cookies!) and watching “Love Actually”–my daughters and I were lucky enough to share all these again this year.
I hope everyone separated from family and friends for this holiday season will be able to celebrate being together soon.
I spent a lot of time thinking about the earthweal challenge this week, to write a poem of thanks. It all came down to the same thing: I’m thankful for life, to be alive. But I couldn’t think of another better way to say it.
grace, this balancing—darkness
shining into light
Happy Thanksgiving to those celebrating, and those who are not. May we remember and honor all life with care and gratitude.
and I am reminded again of who I am,
what I see when I look up at the night sky,
the scent of the earth in spring–
I feel the summer lingering,
long days of sun and sand
and the salty taste I carry
through days that follow me in rhythm
with the waves–
I see the sharpness of blue sky
behind black branches,
a playground of white snow
that culminates in hot chocolate,
the inside warming the outer—
I have been uprooted and transplanted
so many times that nowhere is home–
everything is temporary–
I’m always expecting to move on–
but I remember looking up
through the shade of oak trees,
the roses in my mother’s garden,
lilacs filled with butterflies—
the rust and gold of autumn
singing beneath my feet
For the earthweal challenge, a song of earth-praise from 2019. How far away that seems now. But I am still thinking of my mother.
condensed into light–
gold tinged with tides,
rising and falling
I did a similar grid with circles a few years ago, but I’ve always wanted to give it another try. As with the last one, I first painted a landscape (wishing I had my gouache, but done with watercolor), then cut it up, rearranged it, and added collage dots from my collage box. Here’s the original landscape:
David Hockney-ish I think. Not my usual style, and perhaps a bit brighter than I intended. But I like the colors.
I’ve done a tanka for Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday form challenge, which also works for Frank Tassone’s challenge of harvest moon. The paint oracle is totally responsible for turning my moon painting into a tree.
My new view of the full moon. I have to catch it when it passes between the buildings.
I did this painting for a prompt (which I later altered and will post at some point), but it works for this message from the Oracle today.
death aches us
in black chants
do not ask me
to stop time
watch the sky–
her ship is a light
singing through the moon
in the language of
a shining wind
May our actions and words continue and honor the legacy of Ruth Bader Ginsburg.