Her iridescent spirit carries her through the golden dust swirls of the Orion nebula. Fourteen hundred light years away from earth, she awaits the right moment. She is the Unique One. A star whose heart pulses in time with the ebb and flow of ocean tides. She is composed of compassion and love. Once a nova who flashed too close to the moon, she witnessed the inhumanity of humanity. She must find her way through constellations and galaxies, to find one human creature she can claim. And in that claiming will come illumination. A flame. Kindling for a paradigm shift. The only hope for earth to survive.
Photo image from the telescope of John McKaveney: The Orion Nebula.
Written in response to NaPoWriMo, prompt for day three: to write a surreal prose poem.
Recessed window’s wide ledge holds spirits for drinker’s escape. Time out desperately needed from hatred, tyranny, spewed vindictiveness, misogyny, racism, and lies. Broad brushstrokes have not, cannot hide, underlying malevolence.
Clean canvass craved, painted in meaningful hues. Foundation layer of iridescent justice. Calm cerulean waters governed by tides of crimsoned love. Emerald-kindness speckled shores of honesty. Sun-flowered happiness rollicking beneath cobalt cloudless skies.
Is there a bard to create this script? A Dali, Miro, or Kahlo to produce this surrealism? Who among us will ensure it becomes reality? Human dignity bathed in light, tinted with opalescent caring, glowing in a patina of hope.
Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today I’m hosting Open Link Night where folks are invited to post any one poem of their choice, no form, rhyme scheme etc. required OR use Van Gogh’s painting, Studio Window, to motivate their creative juices.
AND you are invited to join us LIVE (with audio and video), on Saturday, March 16th from 10 to 11 AM New York time. Simply click here, and then click on the link you’ll find for dVerse LIVE. You’re invited to read a poem of your choosing, or simply come sit in and listen. Drop in for a few minutes or come and stay the hour. Although we’re an international group, all readings and conversations are in English. We’ve had folks from Sweden, the UK, Trinidad Tobago, Finland, Pakistan, the US, Kenya, Australia, and India. I do hope you’ll join us – the more the merrier!
Create barrier islands to keep out hatred, people who lack empathy.
Envelop me in sea breezes that waft smiles.
Let a gentle sun warm and fan kindness among all.
Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today is Quadrille Monday! Melissa asks us to include the word “lagoon” in our poem of exactly 44 words, sans title. I chose to verbify the word. Photo take in Bermuda in 2018.
As the sun sets on this day may we pray to remember the good that surrounds us, the good that can be.
Help us to find our way to a kinder world. May each of us contemplate sameness.
Our sameness. Our humanity. May leaders from all countries all religions, all ethnicities, strive for gentle caring.
May we look in the mirror eyes and hearts open, and find each other.
Written today for Open Link Night at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. In today’s world, with so much strife, division, and warring factions, I thought it important to offer this prayer.
dVerse will go live today from 3 to 4 PM EST. Folks from around the globe are invited to post a poem and read it aloud or simply to come and listen. A link will be provided at 3 PM EST HERE to join us on video and audio for one hour. We will do the same on Saturday morning from 10 to 11 AM EST. Would love to have you join us. The more the merrier!
Photo from sunset in San Diego some years ago. The photo feels peaceful and serene to me….and somehow the sun and the rolling hills in the background remind me of hope for a new day.
When I think of aging visions of nature appear poetically, ready to be written across the page. But my hand tremor sets script askew, not unlike a preschooler’s first attempt at printing their name.
——–
Bright pink ruffled peony once perkily perched, quite the showy thing gleaming amongst greenery. Now droops beneath residue of last night’s fierce thunderstorm, struggles to hold its bloom.
Newborn foal, gangly tries to gain its footing. Youthfully romps through fields colored riotously in wildflowers. Years later, put to pasture. Stands swaying slightly, head down, eyes clouded, wildflowers a dull blur.
And I myself, mark changes in my body. Steps slow and sometimes falter, veins protrude on hands. News comes of friends facing grave illness, friends who leave this earth. I reflect more and more on what was, and what is, and what is to come.
Perennials dance in spring’s fresh air, stand proudly through their season. Then wilting, lie down to disintegrate beneath winter’s winds and snow. But their seed is strong. The next generation takes their place, for they are perennials and their beauty continues.
Written for Tuesday Poetics at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today, dear friend Sanaa is hosting. She asks us to write in the style of Amber Rose Tamblyn, an American actress, author, poet, and film director. Sanaa tells us Tamblyn’s “poetry is incredibly unique and descriptive. When asked where the power lies when it comes to writing, Amber Rose answered, ‘when it makes you feel every human emotion all at once.’” Sanaa asks us to create visuals in our poem and “aim to explore the human condition.”
Take my hand. Travel with me through starry starry nights to a new place not yet discovered. Not yet befouled by humanity, but still palpable in its existence.
Happiness, serenity, joy, jubilation, celebration, exuberance good works and caring, and most importantly, optimism shall color this world.
All peoples dwelling here shall live within the light. None shall be unseen, unheard, besmirched, assigned to the shadows. If I were to paint this place . . .
it would be spills of pastels and primary hues beginning at the bottom of the canvas and rising until they meld into a crescendo of love.
If you take my hand this day, this hour this moment to embark upon this journey, might others join our endeavor?
Can it only be achieved on a small scale, two people within a cocoon?
Or can we gather together creative spirits of master artists from centuries past? Might they join today’s artists and somehow . . .
paint our dreams into a reality . . . into a place of life and joy and hope for you and me . . . and for the many.
Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe.
I’m hosting OLN LIVE at dVerse on Thursday from 3 to 4 PM EST and again on Saturday from 10 to 11 AM EST.
It’s an opportunity to join us via video and audio, to read a poem of your choice and listen as others do the same. OR, just come to sit in if you prefer.
Go to https://dversepoets.com beginning at 3 PM Thursday, EST, and you’ll find a link for Thursday’s LIVE session and one for Saturday – just click on the link and you’ll be with us LIVE!
Image is of course, Starry Starry Night by Vincent Van Gogh and is in public domain.
Do not come round me with doom and gloom, tales of burnt toast, Trumpian despair, woe-is-me whines about this country. I desperately want instead, to believe happiness lives.
Let us walk outside. Look for children skipping rope, sharing colored chalk, drawing sidewalk art that regales the urban streets. Let us look for smiles.
You do know we can vote? We can demonstrate. We can share our thoughts in poetry and blogs, letters and chats with our neighbors. We can choose to spread the good.
When you come to visit me, bring into my home a jubilant spirit. In return, I shall give you a welcome gift, bundles of daffodils tied in crimson ribbons. Can you see the joyfulness in that? Together, we can concentrate on hope.
Written for dVerse the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today Sanaa is hosting, offering up a new poetic form for us to consider called Line Messaging. “Line messaging is a poetry form created by Angel Favazza where the poet seeks to utilize the last line of each stanza to bring forth and represent an idea, a thought and notion . . . the last line of each stanza, when read separately from the poem, should deliver an independent messsage or be a poem all on its own.”
Thus the last lines of each stanza above create the following much shorter poem: Hope Lives:
To believe happiness lives let us look for smiles. We can choose to spread the good. Together, we can concentrate on hope.
Gustav, cloak me in yellow. My golden mantle shimmers as does my heart in your embrace. Your mouth meets mine, a kiss divine.
Surround me in yellow, Vincent. Bouquet me with sunflowers. Run beside me round yeasty haystacks. Worry not my darling, your works shall be loved
Dazzle me in yellow, William. Ease my loneliness, wander with me beneath cumulus clouds. Dance with me, as daffodils do, waving brightly in the hills we climb.
Someone, please, mesmerize us with yellow. Glaze our eyes in sunshine. Brush merriment into wildflower scenes. Blend colors into happiness upon your palette. Make this world a wondrous place.
Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today Sarah asks us to consider the color yellow. My poem references The Kiss by Gustav Klimt; Sunflowers and Haystacks, both paintings by Vincent Van Gogh; and the poem Daffodils by William Wordsworth.
Art work images are in public domain. Daffodils image from Pixabay.com
Sun still shines at dawn to cause their demise at Charter Street Burial Ground.
I crave escape. A pen, and a plethora of words curtailing his gigolo lust, two stars over, from above the moon.
Respect provides a healthier view. Illuminated on my tree, “There is good in this world.”
Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe where today is Meet The Bar Day. Laura asks us to look at the most recent poems we’ve written, preferably the last twelve poems, and taking the last lines from each of the poems, rearrange them into a new poem! A poetic sudoku! I did exactly that, not adding any words; not using enjambment (splitting words over two lines). These are the exact words from the last lines of the last twelve poems I posted to dVerse, (minus a prosery prompt since that was prose). Interesting how it turned out. Photo is from a visit to Glendalough, Ireland on a cruise a number of years ago.
I was with her when she died, only positive memories in my mind. Holding her hand, leaning down close, my mouth so near her ear.
Faith and love seemed to rush in overcome all doubt as I said, “Go toward the light mom. Daddy’s there, he’s missed you.”
Her eyes opened. She smiled at me – and then she was gone. What was the sound I heard before that last breath?
Not a death rattle. A sigh? A wooshing? Surely the machines near her. Or perhaps an angel’s wings? Helping her soar to another universe.
A place to reunite with my father, her son, her sisters and brother, her mother and father. A place with no pain, no loneliness.
I hope so. I truly hope so.
Written for Quadrille Monday at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. We were asked to use the word “wing” or a form of the word, within our poem of exactly 44 words, sans title. I got so carried away in the emotional writing of the poem, that I went way over the 44 words. So posting it today for Open Link Night. Photo is one of my favorites of my mom, taken at my nephew’s cabin.
