Down, down, down we go follow the path to the stream far below follow the stream to wherever it goes feel the magic as it ebbs and flows where fairies dance and the forest plays I found the magic where night meets day
De (aka WhimsyGizmo) is hosting Quadrilles at dVerse Poets Pub and has asked for a poem about “bother” what bothers us, what do we find bothersome? What gets us hot and bothered? Hmmm … as I poke my muse repeatedly until she finally gets tired of being bothered and manages to convey some sort of inspiration.
Dreams of Late — a quadrille
At night of late dark dreams have come frightening and bothersome dark shapes I cannot see swoop, harass and bother me moonless skies throughout the night colors fading from my sight searching for the moon’s bright light I wake to find it’s all illusion
Marsha at Always Write is hosting Sunday Stills this week, where our prompt is “Emerging.” So appropriate for Spring. Here in the Black Hills, we are still waiting for Spring patiently, ummm… with hopeful hearts … oh c’mon already. So here’s a little emerging tale from my archives and a few current shots as well.
Through the silent winter the world deeply slumbers emerging in the spring I find everything is different and yet everything’s the same
Spring is slowly emerging from the frozen Winter, here annuals beginning to pop up in the flower beds, ready to start a new season.
Things bloom late in this part of the country but when they do, oh my. The world quickly become a cacophony of sight and scent as the flowers compete for attention.
Here a shot from the high deserts of Utah, as succulents wriggle their way out of a crack in the stones. A classic example of “bloom where you are planted.”
And finally, a tiny sand crab emerging from his hidey hole on the beach in Kapaa, Hawaii
That’s it for this week, here at Chez Spoons, we wait for Spring to emerge from Winter’s cold embrace.
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
Welcome to First Line Lyric Thursday where I pick a lyric line and use it as the first line of a poem, up this week:
Song: Something Wild — Lindsey Stirling, et. al. Line: “that’s when something wild calls you home”
Sounds of a Seashell
That’s when something wild calls you home When I put a seashell to my ear and hear the haunting siren’s song voices in my head calling “come home, please come home” as waves whisper my name, stirring my soul with dreams filled with the scent of salt air, the brush of seaweed, and freedom the symphony of breaking surf underscoring the cry of gulls my toes licked by sea foam a lover’s musky pheromones speak to a need, deep in my soul to see again that vast horizon I put a seashell to my ear and it all comes rushing back, the days I chased the sky into the ocean and the nights when something wild called me home
For dVerse Poets Pub where Sarahsouthwest is hosting quadrilles. Our inspiration for this edition is “swift”
Poetry and Madness
My thoughts flit and dive like starlings and swifts always aflight, with glimpses of exquisite confusion My mind buzzing like cicadas in summer with memories of magic afire with scraps of poetry and madness a fevered rhythm of need as the sun swiftly sets
For Paula’s February Love Me where we’re posting something we’re loving every day of February. Today I’m loving upbeat music. Specifically my “Bright and Perky” playlist and the song, “Brighter than the Sun” by Colbie Caillat.
Also for First Line Lyric Thursday, I’m selecting a line from a song and using it as the first line of a poem. This week’s entry is from “Brighter than the Sun” see the video after the poem. Chosen line: “Who am I to tell Fate where it’s supposed to go?”
Who am I to tell Fate where it’s supposed to go? To foreswear love’s right to bloom and grow? A heart that was broken when Fate intervened does not question the underlying need to mend all that was battered and torn to bind the bruised, haggard soul forlorn with empty heart and wearied soul you found me then and brought me home more joy found than we ever hoped to know who am I to tell Fate where it’s supposed to go?
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