Tag Archive | shadorma

March 2021

what dream is this?  circling
spiralling into form
slipstreamed fertile reborn
continuous

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.

March 19 grid 2s

in March I
ruminate return
remember
rains that be
come sun-dappled spring—shining,
blooming with birdwings

march 2018 grid s

dreams become
part of the landscape
filling in

march-17-grid-s2

colors
begin to dance
with waves of light, singing
sun into roots, filling
my nights with dreams
of dawn

Poetic forms are, in order, abhanga, shadorma, haiku, badger’s hexastitch.

February 2021

are the days
moving on, circling
back, slipping
through?  or are
they giving up, slowing down,
following the un

seen astride
the invisible
vibrations
of tidings reaching for shore
lines that aren’t there–echos of
places remembered,

emerging
from folds of pages–
not maps, but
renderings
sparkling against the stardust
of reflected nights–

between here
there and then not now
conclusions
masquerade
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.

forms in nature

be always
impossible be
enchanted
reaching out
in reciprocity to
meet the world halfway

The Kick-About challenge this week uses Ernst Haeckel’s “Art Forms in Nature” as inspiration. If you’ve never seen these images, take a look here. Below is the sample provided with the challenge, but I decided to use different images as inspiration for my composite creatures.

I looked in my collage box/reference book collection for nature images that I could combine to create new forms based on Haeckel’s paintings.

This is a project that could go on and on…

Conception (Reprise)

1
imagine
growing roots into
fertile ground

fertile ground
the protective cloak
of the earth

of the earth
talking to the moon
with stillness

with stillness
welcome the new year
imagine

2
always, earth
transitioning—life
rearranged
into new
patterns—open your arms wide–
inhale, welcoming

For Frank Tassone’s #haikai challenge for the New Year, and Colleen’s #tanka Tuesday challenge to write a poem of hope, I’ve written two variations of the same idea, and reprised a collage I did for an earlier #tanka Tuesday in 2019.

Colleen asked us to use our favorite form of poetry and to tell why we like it. Of course I love pantoums and all repetitive poetry, and I often write using Japanese poetic forms, but I most often write in shadorma. Somehow its rhythm and length work well with the way I express my thoughts, and when I’m stuck, it works to focus me, making me consider the exact words I’m using and why.

I used the haiku form of the first poem, with the repeating lines, in a post on kblog, but couldn’t remember where I had seen it. I’ve since discovered it is called Shi Rensa, and it was invented by Ronovan, who has his own haiku and decima challenges at RonovanWrites.

December 2020

all shadow,
this season—sky-rilled,
edged in ice–
overflown
with feathers of darkening–
hovering between

Draw a Bird Day: Nuthatch

upside down
the world becomes new–
balancing
body mind
opened into new visions
enlarged perpectives

One weekend sitting on campus with our coffee and tea, my daughter and I were surrounded by birds. A mockingbird sang a complicated repertoire of songs for about a half hour, blue jays and cardinals visited, crow got in a word or two, and there were lots of sparrows–at least we assumed all the small birds were sparrows–until one started going up and then head down around a tree trunk. Sparrows definitely don’t do that.

When I looked it up in my birdbook at home, I discovered it was a white breasted nuthatch. They like to forage in the bark for insects, and even cache seeds in the crevices. They are quite common in the United States, although I don’t recall ever noticing one before.

I had found my subject for draw a bird day, and wrote a shadorma to accompany the art for Colleen’s #TankaTuesday, poet’s choice.

butterfly

butterfly s

sun casts its
eye on winged shadows,
dancing in
to the day–
tossed by light waves that play with
dappled melodies

butterfly close up s

I’ve been wanting to do another butterfly painting, and the dVerse prompt from Laura, flights of fancy, provided the perfect excuse.

misdirections

misdirections s

here or there
and then what?  so far
so up–then
down, between
lost and left behind–climbing
the chutes, the ladders,

the maybes
and the knotted, the
ready and
the not yet,
the pointless and the lines drawn
in the sand…which way?

misdirections close up s

A nonsense quadrille for dVerse using the word “up”.

skeleton

skeleton s

This house is
painted with blackness
until it
deconstructs
form, kills all architecture–
it lives deep below

what cannot
be seen what hides be-
neath skin what
holds nothing–
this house is not afraid–
it contains no heart

When it breathes
in, it drains out—it
knows all of
those sorrows
without names—it stands until
it falls down inside

what follows
you around—what can’t
be placed in
any land-
scape—what remains unmoved where
you least expect it

For Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, above.

skeleton close up s

 

 

Shaded

shaded s

I’m standing
not in the way but
out—myself
here somewhere
yet not quite ready for this
trough that releases

emptying,
revacating the
premises–
I borrowed time
from all those appointments with
destiny, unkept

Reopen
the scar, make room for
new bloodveins,
roots, branches,
a forest to surround, sing
alive alive-O

Imagine
what strange things fortune
could reveal
in its own
time, centered in a place where
the lines intersect

For Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, above, and NaPoWriMo Day 29(!) a meditation on one of my many states of being.

shaded close up s

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