She writes of the sacred land, red earth cherished by Creek Nation.
Moencopi Rise, Round Rock, Four Corners, a dreaming place of bears. Her words are songs of praise to ochre soil, parched sand, grey rocks, and dust spattered plants. Her faith in the whole, revealed in full and sliver moon steady and flickering stars.
Prayer is manifest as horses gallop through hills. Words written in linear lines paint images revered by generations. Her poetic spirit soars. An eagle spreads its wings, magnificently embracing the bluest of skies.
She is those who were before her, caretakers of Mother Earth all.
Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. Late for the Tuesday Poetics prompt given by Laura. She asks us to consider poems to a poet. I decided to write an ode to poet Joy Harjo.
JOY HARJO is a member of the Creek Nation. She is a screen writer, poet, and teaches creative writing and Native American Literature at the University of Arizona. She has received the New Mexico Governor’s Award for Excellence in the Arts, a Lifetime Achievement Award from the Native Writers Circle of the Americas, and the William Carlos Williams Award from the Poetry Society of America. Harjo served as United States poet laureate from 2019-2021, and was the first Native American to serve in the position. Image from Pixabay.com
The happiness project,
a heartbreaking work of staggering genius.
Plain and simple:
eat, pray, love
Day 23 of National Poetry Month: first installment today is written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. Bjorn asks us to explore “found poetry” — and more specifically, Book Spine Poetry. Look at the books on your shelf, pick some with titles that speak to you and arrange the titles into a poem! We have the choice of “adding some meat to the bones” — as in filling in some of our own words around the titles.
I love the way these 5 books fit together. Consider it a belated Earth Day poem!
Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Dig out some books and come join us!
on ship’s deck.
Scenes dealt by Nature
visual poetry to me,
death’s hand to many seafarers of old.
some city-blocks in size
litter the sea.
Imposing ice-capped peaks
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.
Posted for dVerse where I’m delighted to host Tuesday Poetics, asking everyone to look up! Write a poem inspired by one of four photos, taken and released by the Hubble telescope, included in the prompt. Jump into the photo, imagine its world; write about space or not. Simply be inspired by the image and see where it takes you!
dVerse, the virtual pub for poets, opens at 3 PM Boston time. Come join us!
NOTE: I emailed the Hubble site from which the four available images come. Permission was given for this prompt, providing each poet includes the exact photo credit as listed on the site and thus copied to my prompt.
She remembers hot spots,
hands thrown up in disgust.
spewed words laced in spittle.
She walks this Icelandic landscape alone
breathing sulfuric stench.
Eyes sting, nostrils flare.
She feels and sees and hears
the earth stew, bubble,
seethe and steam.
Flumes sputter, gain strength,
spray vitriolic anger.
Shielding her eyes,
she searches for some shade of green,
some sign of hope
beyond this godforsaken land.
If she stands still
she understands now,
she will be consumed.
Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. Our host is Kim and she’s talking about “flexing your verbs” in a poem about a landscape. Photos were taken outside Reykjavik, Iceland on our recent trip. Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Come imbibe some verbs with us!
dry themselves to seed.
Inside-out they sow themselves
to green and bloom again.
Written for Misky’s Twiglets. Two word prompt given this week, “inside” and “out” to spark a thought, a phrase, a poem. The shorter the better, hence the name twiglet. Photo: taken last year on the Rose Kennedy Greenway in Boston.
Descending into Earth’s belly
we clamber over solidified lava,
misshapen slabs, coarse and sharp.
Crouch. Walk. Crawl in darkness.
Her innards surround us.
Two thousand years have passed
since she belched fire
spewed molten fury
encased this land.
Liquid anger flowed and ebbed
cracked in cooling drafts
left behind tunnel pathways,
cold witness to those fury days.
My mouth agape,
body chilled to the bone,
we move through this, her confession,
the scars of a temper once unleashed.
Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets, where Paul asks us to write a poem from our underground travels. Paul opens Tuesday Poetics at 3 PM Boston time. Photos: from our recent excursion into the lava fields and extinct volcanoes outside Reykjavik, Iceland. We actually went underground and explored a 2,000 + year old lava tube. That’s me in the purple. Last photo is what the land above the tube looks like — that’s lichen growing on ancient lava fields. Very barren and harsh. Iceland is one of the world’s most sparsely populated countries. It has extensive volcanic and geothermal activity (see photos with my one sentence poem entitled Geyser. About 50% of Iceland is mountainous lava desert. Only 1% of their land is cultivated.
Photos from outside Reykjavik, Iceland. There are 300 volcanoes in Iceland. 50% of Iceland’s landmass is mountainous lava desert. The famous Blue Lagoon is in the midst of lava fields with waters heated by the natural geothermal heat “beneath the earth.” These photos show the steam belching from the earth. In some places, large geysers shoot up. Iceland collects this geothermal energy and uses a system of pipes below streets in Reykjavik to keep streets from icing over and they also provide heat and electricity to homes in Iceland. Absolutely amazing to see.