He stands alone in the still air the last bastion of civilization waiting for the breath of air to stir his pumps back to life and give him purpose once more and so he waits, a murmuration of Starlings his only company he stands alone in the still air
For Fandango’s flashback friday. This was originally written for dVerse Poetics on March 25, 2020 at the beginning of lockdowns and other inanities that have become part of our global “new normal.” The prompt was to contemplate what we have gained through personal (or global) crisis. What I gained from this most recent global crisis was the steadfast realization that I am far stronger than I ever realized.
Like the Moon I Rise
Like the moon, I rise from the darkness to brighten the very sky like the moon, I rise
Like the Phoenix, I rise from fire and ash I spread my wings and fly like the Phoenix, I rise
Sorrow cannot keep me down when in pools of darkness I fear to drown like the sun, I rise
every day, warm or cold every night brings good-bye but, every morning, like the sun I rise
Lillian has provided us an interesting challenge for dVerse Poetics, to write a poem inspired by a given adage.
For today’s prompt, I’d like you to consider one of the adages/proverbs listed below as inspiration for your poem. You don’t have to include the line itself….but we should be able to guess pretty easily, which line you used as a jumping off point to create your poem. Do give the line and its source at the end of your poem, and of course, mention the poem is written for dVerse.
So do pop on over and take a look, see if you can guess which adage I chose for this.
A box of chocolates on the table tempting me to come and taste just a tiny, bitty, bite surely won’t enlarge my waist Like my life, each one is filled with choices bitter and sweet you never know until you try what fate you will meet A left when I should have turned right lead me to a long and winding path showed me life through a different sight and that has made all the difference A left or a right, choices near and far our choices show who we really are my heart flutters my mind is set take the plunge, see what I get
We have this week a rather complex assignment from Lisa at dVerse to create our own microseason. In honor of the Year of the Tiger, I’ll give it a lash, although I think my offering rather more resembles prose than anything else.
Embracing Naye final new moon of the season of the Crone
Rain on the lake as it begins to thaw as ducks paddle furiously while they can. Raindrops suspended at the tip of branches, not quite heavy enough to fall. By morning all will be frozen once again as the season of the Crone, the season of rest and restoration, enters Naye, the last new moon of her reign. The air vacillates between damp warmth and freezing cold.
Sturdy winter greens and root vegetables simmer happily in my ever-present soup pot, the scent heady with warm spice. All too soon the cold will fade, warming soups will be replaced by tender salads. Dried flowers on my mantle will give way to spring bulbs and afternoons spent curled up near the fire will be supplanted by the need to plan gardens.
But for now, the Crone still lingers while the Maiden rests. For this final new moon Naye holds the position and whispers to Spring “not yet, not yet.”
Ingrid is hosting Dverse Poetics this week and has asked us to write from a place of pain keeping in mind Wordsworth’s definition of poetry as “emotion recollected in tranquility.” While I realize that for most people, this probably speaks to us of emotional pain, I’m taking a bash at the tranquil recollection of lessons learned from physical pain.
“I need my pain!” Capt. James T. Kirk
Pain is Like an Old Friend
In the cold and rain, old injuries ache with the phantom memories of pain like an old relation, it comes unbidden reminding me of times better forgotten
I have felt the hurling force and the white hot lance of fire as a bullet ripped through the meager protection of flesh
I have felt bones snap and break as blood vessels ruptured from crushing impact before blessed pain rendered me unconscious
Yes, pain is an old friend, an unwanted guest mostly you smile and endure until the visit is over But sometimes, if you listen very carefully, you glean bits of unparalleled truth and flashes of enlightenment
Every scar, every ache is a reminder that I am stronger than everything that has ever tried to kill me, it is a part of me my spirit has been hammered on the anvil of life and tempered in the fires of pain and I have learned
I learned to see the world in all it’s lush beauty and stark despair, and to love them both, but mostly I learned to love the woman I am today After all, I went through a helluva lot to become her
Laura is our host for dVerse poetics this week asking us for a poem based on paintings, or the titles of paintings. Do visit the pub for all the fascinating details.
I must say this was fun and challenging. I chose “Convergence” by Jackson Pollock and started with a painterly poem based on the title, an attempt to paint for you the vision I see when I think about “convergence.” Then, when I looked up the actual artwork, the words came out much different even though (for me) the feeling was the same. I should have expected the unexpected from Pollock’s work. I must say, I see much stargazing in my future because of this prompt so thank you ever so much Laura.
Convergence Part 1 — a painterly poem
convergence of planets align on a starry night leaning back on my elbows watching the indigo sky devolve into the stars of Orion the new moon rises in Gemini your lips graze my throat draws a shuddering breath you point out Betelgeuse, a red star burning bright, and Rigel steadfast and true your arm wraps around me as I shiver, stealing warmth from your body against the night air expectantly, I breathe you in and exhale into your kiss let the convergence begin
Convergence Part 2 an ekphrastic poem
Lines converge in distant galaxies harsh black and white splashes of red and gold Orion Nebula filled with gaseous debris, vapors and mist kiss of the heavens strength of the eons womb of the stars
Kim is our host for Poetics at dVerse Poets Pub, “the challenge is to write a metaphor poem that starts with the words ‘This being human is…’ You can compare being human to anything you want: a building or place, an object, something natural or something manufactured, a ritual or an everyday act. It is up to you to explore whatever it is in your poem.”
Humanity of Trees
This being human is a tree rooted deep within the earth yet reaching toward the sky drinking in the sunshine and pondering the eternal mystery of the moon and stars and our own humanity one tree with many branches each with thousands of leaves that sway and dance with the wind offering shade and shelter to all who seek respite, a quantum of solace and renewal always growing, always changing the wisdom of the seasons leaves that fade and fall in a flurry of color breathtaking reminders of the beauty of letting go this being human is… beautiful
For Tuesday’s Poetics where Mish is hosting, asks us. “Writing from a perspective other than our own is a great challenge. We’ve had some very interesting prompts over the years where we have climbed out of our comfort zones to look through a new lens. That has usually involved looking through the eyes of another person. I’d like to float a little further into the unknown and suggest we take the perspective of a color. (or “colour’ as we spell it in Canada)”
Cattle in stark relief exposed black silhouettes juxtaposed against my gentle winter hue would you notice if I were blue perhaps shade of summer green but all unnoticed I remain unseen
Wait for the waxing pink moon as amber buds begin to bloom I am not some lifeless tone but fragile glass and precious stone, like the shine in lovers’ eyes I am fading sunset’s golden prize