dVerse

tanka – a study in brevity

lillian51 Comments

childhood innocence
blushing cheeks and pudgy knees
jump-rope and hopscotch ~
photos keep her company
brittle memories thick with dust

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Frank is our Thursday host at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. He asks us to consider brevity in our writing…and talks about the Japanese poetic forms of haiku and tanka as examples of brevity. Tanka is 5 lines with the syllabic content 5-7-5-7-7 and should contain a “pivot” at or after the third line. Here, there is a change of perspective: lines 1 – 3 describe childhood for the reader. There’s a sense of liveliness and action. Lines 4 and 5 shift the reader’s view to an elderly person looking at the photos of childhood and hopscotch. The liveliness is gone, replaced by that last line. The person seems alone….left to finger and think about these images, these brittle memories. Perhaps the photos and her memory are “thick with dust?”

The Cat and the Elephant

lillian30 Comments

Tis not the end of the world, my friend.
Nine lives I have
and don’t you see?
I’ve really only been through three.

Tsk, tsk, so you say.
These tusks did push us off the land
but sails they’re not,
without the wind.

Then I shall cat-call to the moon,
plead to lunar-up a breeze.
But you so heavy at the knees,
we’ll still be deadweight in the seas.

Your kitty croons, so pitiful and small,
my BAALOOs shall loudly do the trick.
I’ll proudly call up mighty Orca
and she will surely solve our plight.

—–

Suddenly their boat was perched
atop a dorsal fin
as waves did froth and start to spin,
and winds did help them soar. . .

beyond the land of different,
one so big and one so wee.
She looked up and he looked out
to navigate the troubled seas.

————

Readers heed this little tale
as you doth scan my words.
An elephant and a cat at sea,
sealed their fate successfully.

He did this and she did that
with moon and stars
and wind and whales.
Absolutely no buts allowed.

And thus they sailed,
the elephant and the cat,
into a new and verdant land ~
designed to house the everyone and all.

Silent-Night-Catrin-Welz-Stein-Acrylic-Glass-Print

This is my second post for dVerse today, the virtual pub for poets, where I’m hosting and asking folks to choose one of four images from talented artist Catrin Welz-Stein.

The first post, with another image, is Primitive Folk Tale.

Some fabulous poems have been posted using Catrin’s images. Thank you again, Catrin, for letting us be inspired by your artwork!

Primitive Folk Tale

lillian65 Comments

She, the earliest of living things.
Her strength, serenity.
Eternal for the ages.

Birthed ‘neath a solar scrim
stars and silver moons afloat,
heavenly aura ’round her soul.

In her hand she held thee, wren.
Firstborn feathered creature
created from wisps of love.

Genesis of multiples
winged in soaring flight,
traversing through her skies.

Red blossoms, thorned and not,
suckled from her bosom soft
kindness sipped by every bloom.

Life seeded within her mind
begat entangled branches,
generations of humankind.

Earthly homes imagined
crowned forth upon her head
’til eyelids softly closed,

whispered words escaped her lips.
‘Tis done.
Now they must live.

Catrin Welz-Stein - German Surrealist Graphic Designer - Tutt'Art@ (24)

I’m hosting dVerse today, the virtual pub for poets, asking folks to chose one of four images that I’ve provided, from talented artist Catrin Welz-Stein.  

I also published The Cat and the Elephant, using another of her images.

I love the serenity of this image. If you click on her name, you’ll get to her website which includes much more of her artwork. Thank you, Catrin, for letting us use your beautiful images for motivation today! Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Stop by and be inspired!

Harlequin

lillian57 Comments

Medieval court’s poetic jester
leaps cross marble floor,
bells on cap and toes.
Sings boldly eyeing men,
their indiscretions
bared aloud.

Sag-faced courtiers
murmur hoarsely, choking coarsely,
cannot silence tales.
Red-faced king sits in midst
as women waggle fingers,
his scepter turned to stone.

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Quadrille (44 words, sans title) written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets, where today De asks us to include the word “murmur”. Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time — come on over and quaff some poems! 

Pentimento

lillian28 Comments

Shall I sit
complacent?
Stilled
as if painted upon a wall?
Indelible street art
disintegrating in time?
No.

Dreamers, Mother Earth,
I care.
I give voice.
I demonstrate.
I remonstrate.
I strive to keep her arm outstretched,
a beacon of hope
promised to all.

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First photo is street art from our recent time in Valparaiso, Chile. Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets, where today Amaya is hosting and asks us to consider pentimento. A word about pentimento:  this can refer to an alteration in a work of art…sometimes visible to the viewer, such as the shadow of a flower appearing in a painting of the forest; or the hidden woman’s face in the bent neck of Pablo Picasso’s “The Old Guitarist.”  Shifting this into poetry, Amaya asks us to consider a time we changed our mind. Pentimento in Italian means “repentance” so Amaya suggests we think about a change for the greater good.  This started me thinking about Martin Luther King, the 60s, and the recent political scene. No matter the partisan side you lean toward, the election of Donald Trump did create a voice of activism that had been stilled in recent years. I was one of many women who found my voice and demonstrated with my daughter on the day after his inauguration. The recent #metoo movement is another instance of finding voice.

Antarctica

lillian14 Comments

I stand
on ship’s deck.
Scenes dealt by Nature
visual poetry to me,
death’s hand to many seafarers of old.

Icebergs,
some city-blocks in size
litter the sea.
Imposing ice-capped peaks
tower above.

Humpbacks
spout jubilant spray.
I breathe misty wisps
in frozen air.

Photos from Antarctica – taken yesterday on our cruise. Amazing scenery. Quadrille written for dVerse using the word “poetry.” Apologies to readers that I cannot reciprocate and read your posts or reply to comments – Internet very sparse and expensive here.

Still Love

lillian14 Comments

Namra, spinner of tales, weaved her way into his naivety. Vulnerable, unaware of her guile, he pledged his love, earthly possessions, and his soul. In dark of night, she promised nirvana whilst leading him to the place of angels. Unbeknownst to him, a destination not where spirits soar; rather where they stand in frozen state. Cold stone in the midst of searing heat. Those who dared to fly, minus forearms or bent with ravaged wings. Some forever with fingertip to lips, hushing final cries of hope. Angels, sentinels of death, where living bow their heads.

He followed, unaware that she is a collector. Unaware she lures the unsuspecting to a marble bed. Lies with them but for a moment until the aphrodisiac of her silken ways, overcomes their senses. Seers say his body awakened in the cold to emptiness. That he lies now through the ages, eyes open, awaiting her return. Unaware that silken threads forever lace round a rusted metal lock. A comfortless duvet of intricacy, barely moving in the languid breath of summer winds. He is forever unaware that she continually seeks new prey. Promising an ecstasy of love to rival the ages, but caring not for the soul.

Photos from Recoleta, an amazing cemetery in Buenos Aires, where Evita is buried. We had a wonderful private tour of the city with Ceri of Buenos Tours, which culminated at Recoleta. A word of explanation: I’ve been on back-to-back cruises to South America and now heading to Antarctica, hence have not been able to post often (very limited internet access). I’m scheduling this so it will post for OLN. Consider this prose poetry.

Valparaiso, Chile

lillian22 Comments

I stand atop Casa Galos’ rooftop terrace, seeking the moon which appears in Chicago, Paris, and Vienna. Cities that progressed with time. Here I see only bright orbs. Street lights that blanket the cerros – hills holding once architectural gems beside corrugated metal homes. Erosion defied by vibrant street art.

Twentieth century’s magnificent achievement, the Panama Canal, thief of Valparaiso’s livelihood. And this past month, deserted by the cruiseship industry, as if a pickpocket stole her last coin. A missing moon tonight, and I wonder if it will ever reappear to illuminate this city’s spirit again.

blood moon phenomenon
shrunk to crescent sliver shard –
will you wax again?

Scheherazade

lillian17 Comments

Across the page my pen does fly
If, not, why
A pathway straight to and from my . . .
He, she, I
. . . Brain

I tell my story, tell again
First, next, then
Revise and edit with my pen
House, place, den
Me
Scheherazade
Storyteller

Written by Stella Hallberg, my granddaughter, who will soon be 11. She and I trade poetry prompts each month. She decided we would start the year with the same word, scheherazade. This is her poem….as she wrote it. No edits by me. It fits beautifully with Bjorn’s prompt for today at dVerse. He asks us to recognize the importance of silence in poetry. Silence can be illustrated with various punctuation, including the ellipsis . . . which Stella uses in her poem. Stella explained to me “The syllable pattern is something I might have made up. I did 8, 3, 8, 3, 1 twice, but at the end I added 5, 4. Do you like it?”  Yes, Stella, I do! 🙂

 

 

The Story Teller

lillian37 Comments

Her clan’s scheherazade.
Last in her lineage,
skilled by birthright
in the ancient art.

She follows the stars.
Finds her way,
village by village
to listen, to tell.

Stories they share
of birth, death, harvest,
and ceremonial hunts.
All grace her plots.

Mitochondrial details
events infused by voice,
sadness, daily banter, and joy.
Emotional spectrum wide and deep.

She the vessel of tales,
ewer of their heritage.
She is their story teller,
the carrier of life.

Written for my almost 11-year-old granddaughter who decided we should start the year with the same prompt word, “scheherazade,” meaning storyteller. Also penned for dVerse where Paul hosts today, with the word “grace” for a prompt. Apologies in advance to all who read and comment — it may take a while to respond as we embark today on a 34 day journey to S. America and Antarctica!