Tag Archive | watercolor

(nowhere) to be found

nowhere to be found close up s

it’s the alone in
the dance that makes the never
knowing so complete

Amaya at dVerse asked us to consider music that brings us to tears.  There are many candidates these days, but I chose Jackson Browne’s “For a Dancer” for it’s longevity and continued relevance in that department.  People, places, things…they are always “dancing in and out of view”.

And a ghazal for the song as well.

nowhere to be found s

In the quiet of a summer’s afternoon I think of you
in the absence that is always in this room I think of you

My mind plays tricks and mixes up the present and the past
in memories recalled and then exhumed I think of you

Bananas peaches lemons oranges strawberries and limes
in fruit that ripens and releases its perfume I think of you

I search for guidance in the symbols of mythologies and stars
in portents that appear like ghostly runes I think of you

The fiber spun and dyed the needle waiting in my hand
in threads that cross like patterns on a loom I think of you

Sometimes I seem to recognize a voice calling and turn
in the abbreviation of my nom de plume I think of you

Pay attention to the open skies.

 

nowhere to go (sailing the moon)

nowhere to go 2s

journey like a river,
found in the places
that are always home

sing the music of oceans
weaving patterns of mercy–
journey like a river

become part of each movement,
every path transformed,
found in all places

pass along what has been given–
ride the sky like the wind,
always at home

a channel of water flowing out to sea, with the sun reflecting on the water.

Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, above, immediately made me think of Paul Simon’s “Peace Like a River”–and that made me think of “American Tune”–hence the 2 part title.  The poem is a cascade, always a good form when writing about water.

nowhere close up 2s

Sue titled her photo “Yearning” and I think that’s an emotion Paul Simon captures well.

…and I dreamed I was flying…

 

but who’s counting?

but who's counting s

just another day
with another mass shooting
(thoughts and prayers optional)

It wasn’t even the top headline on the front page of the newspaper this morning.

but whos counting close up s

I’ll visit the Oracle tomorrow.

posted on dVerse Open Link Night, hosted this week by Mish

 

Wayfaring Stranger

wayfaring stranger s

It wasn’t heaven above surrounding me like stars
on a distant shore—I wasn’t a memory like stars

I had not become a child swimming in the sun, a sleepy
summer afternoon of endless play, swinging free like stars

Hovering in the form of an invisible crown,
it was not a hurricane holding its eye to me like stars

I was not a journey through the tunneled darkness
following the trail of all things hidden ghostly like stars

Becoming what I yet wasn’t, I crossed everywhere–
in a nameless endless shedding of all identity—like stars

A poem of wandering for Ammol at DVerse, in the current featured poetic form, ghazal.  I find the form to be somewhat awkward, but I’m beginning to think maybe that’s the point of it.  It mirrors the thought process.  Or maybe I just need more practice at writing them.

wyfaring stranger close up s

 

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

 

moonflower

moonflower s

moonflower magnetic lai nouveau s

In honor of this month’s May flower full moon, the Oracle gave me a lai nouveau.  I know dVerse has moved on to the ghazal already, but I’m not ready yet for June which is still a full week away.

moonflower close up s

the moon a flower
cloud air and water
gentle
wild gardens wander
secrets uncover
cycle
we follow after
blossoming color

shine over summer
spring fall and winter
fertile
beneath blue murmur
listen as nature’s
soul fills
cloud air and water
the moon a flower

 

Poem up at The Ekphrastic Review

free at last s

My poem “Free at Last” was among those chosen to accompany the painting  “Ninos”, by Fidelio Ponce de Leon, at The Ekphrastic Review.  You can see the artwork and read it, along with the rest of those selected, here.

free at last close up s

My thanks once again to editor Lorette C. Luzajic for supporting my work and the interaction between the visual and written arts.

sailing the mares of night

sailing the mares s

sailing the mares magnetic s

The Oracle gave me another lai, the featured poetic form at dVerse for May.  She began with darkness and ended with light.  They are always switching places it seems.

saling the mares close up s

what blackness this storm?
it covers the moon
and sky

beneath shadowed dream
wind remakes the when
of why

time sings of spring sun
the light whispers come–
don’t cry

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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O! none but

O none but s

silence parched and
barren,
depleted even of rage,
of
refutations to give to death’s
denial of the eternal–
which shiver stands distilled, concentrated, cold?

Today I used yesterday’s NaPoWriMo prompt, to make Shakespeare’s sonnets our poetic inspiration.  I wanted to do a Golden Shovel poem–I like them, and I haven’t done one in a long time.  The line I used was from Shakespeare’s Sonnet XIII, “and barren rage of death’s eternal cold?”

o none but close up s

What is a Golden Shovel?  you can read about it here.  And do read both Gwendolyn Brooks and Terrance Hayes as well.

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