Tag Archive | pantoum

Invocation of the Trees

wishes s

Have mercy on us
we who are poor in spirit
we who are never satisfied
we who strive to possess everything

We who are poor in spirit
bless us and teach us
we who strive to possess everything
fill us as vessels with the breath of stars

Bless us and teach us
cleanse and heal our weary hearts
fill us as vessels with the breath of stars
attach our roots with grace and truth

Cleanse and heal our weary hearts
quench our hunger with light
attach our roots with grace and truth
you who honor both heavens and earth

Quench our hunger with light
we who are never satisfied
you who honor both heavens and earth
have mercy on us

two trees s

I’m reblogging this poem from 2018 for earthweal’s “mentors” prompt, adding some tree art from the archives as well.

winter forest 2 4 x 6 text comma

I’ve written about trees almost as often as birds and the sea.  All good and wise teachers.  But trees (starting with the Tree of Life) both anchor and reach toward the cosmic why.

trees across summary comp

Reveiled

reveiled s

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.

reveiled close up s

 

a formula for zero

a formula for zero s

quick and not yet dead
these visions that hover
inside the unconsciousness of my head
an expanding screen of color

these visions that hover
a journey of blood and cells
an expanding screen of color
orbiting in waves and spells

a journey of blood and cells
the Other I am not
orbiting in waves and spells
multitudes circulating beyond thought

The Other I am not
shrinking in sense and form
multitudes circulating beyond thought
synapses returning unborn

Shrinking in sense and form
inside the unconsciousness of my head
synapses returning unborn
quick and not yet dead

a formula close up s

NaPoWriMo asked for a repetitive poem, perhaps a pantoum…

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Hall of Mirrors

hall of mirrors mandala s

Does the end know it’s beginning?
Does it discard everything
to become what it is not,
to close what is open?

Does it discard everything
and remove all the names
to close what is open?
Does it empty out all the dreams

and remove all the names?
Is it now before or after?
Does it empty out all the dreams
into infinite light, or infinite darkness?

Is it now, before, or after
that the forms disintegrate and rearrange,
become infinite light and infinite darkness?
Which shadow follows, which one leads?

Do the forms disintegrate and rearrange
or do they freeze and then evaporate?
Which shadow follows, which leads?
Which line arcs into the turning?

Does it freeze and then evaporate
to become what it is not?
Which line arcs into the turning?
Does the end know its beginning?

hall of mirrors close up s

The prompt for Day 2 of NaPoWriMo asks us to begin and end our poem with a question.  What better form for this than a pantoum?

hom close up 2

napo2019button2

 

 

Hallow

hallow s

summon the bones
uncoiled dream
chasm, koan
raw energy

uncoiled dream
glimpses of signs
raw energy
vanishing lines

glimpses of signs
particles in sync
vanishing lines
held on the brink

particles in sync
images transpire
held on the brink
omens, desire

images transpire
time distills
omens, desire
nowhere reveals

time distills
chasm, koan
nowhere reveals
summon the bones

One more pantoum for the dVerse March poetic form, inspired by Sue Vincent’s photo prompt above.

hallow close up 2s

Sabio Lantz posted a pantoum that I found very appealing in its brief rhythmic images. He said in his post that he had discovered that the original Maylay pantoums had very short lines, so I thought I would try one in that spirit.  I’ve always thought the pantoum form worked well for chants, and the shorter lines magnify this feeling.

 

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.

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.

 

Contradiction (revised)

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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!

The Ways of Self-Salvation 2

ways 2s

Demanding patience, spirit grows deep–
nourished and carried near to the heart.
Waiting, waiting, my soul for to keep–
shadows breathing and falling apart.

Nourished and carried near to the heart–
the third eye opens, window and mirror.
Shadows breathing and falling apart–
beginning is singing, ending is near.

The third eye opens, window and mirror–
the ripeness growing, large and complete.
Beginning is singing, ending is near–
emptying follows, head and then feet

The ripeness growing, large and complete–
rocking inside a musical voice.
Emptying follows, head and then feet–
atoms laughing in naked warm noise.

Rocking inside a musical voice–
no thoughts to speak, no dreams to word.
Atoms laughing in naked warm noise–
diving like oceans, skying like birds.

No thoughts to speak, no dreams to word–
demanding patience, spirit grows deep.
Diving like oceans, skying like birds–
waiting, waiting, my soul for to keep.

I don’t normally post twice in the same day, but Jane Dougherty’s pantoum, “It was not a night like this”, reminded me a lot of this one I wrote last year, which was based on a poem I wrote a very long time ago.

ways close up 2s

I’m also linking it to the dVerse narrative prompt, although I too am not sure it is exactly what Bjorn is looking for.