in the silence

Sa ta na ma . . . sa ta na ma . . . lying on my back, arms easily at sides, eyes closed, I move inward. Sa ta na ma . . . sometimes sitting cross-legged, hands in prayer-position at my chest, eyes closed, I slide inward. Sa ta na ma . . . rhythmically said within my mind.

sa . . .the beginning, infinity, all that ever was, is or will be
ta . . . existence within infinity
na . . . death, transformation
ma . . . rebirth, regeneration, joy within infinity
Eyes closed, relaxed, at ease. Sometimes there light. An aura. An absence present. I move within me, with all.

snow owl perched in field
colors absent nature sees
silently feels me

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Haibun written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets where today we’re asked to write about sounds we hear within ourselves. Haibun: one or two paragraphs of prose, cannot be fiction; followed by a haiku that includes a seasonal reference.

She Melts

blue ice                                             cold as cold can be
cleft from frozen earth                 abandoned
floats alone                                      drowning
so deeply down                               in sea of despair

deplorable evidence                      scarred inside and out
man’s neglect                                   his indifference
temperature rises                           her tears flow in melting fear
frequent fissures                            pulled asunder
disaster nears                                  she dies more each day

 

Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets, where today Paul asks us to write a contrapuntal poem. The term is taken from the musical world and means counterpoint…a piece of music with two or more independent melody lines.
Read this poem three ways (IE three melody lines if you will).
1. left column only
2. right column only
3. from left to right in total – as in all the way through the first line, ignoring the big spaces between the columns; then all the way through the second line etc.
Iceberg photos from out trip to Antarctica. Eyes photo from Pixabay.com.

Eye on Spring

Ole Man Winter retreats.
Cinder-smudged snow pile,
shrinks in April’s pushiness.
Skinny tree branches
open arms to warming sun,
anxious to leaf out and bloom.

Knees planted in moist soil
I gather and bag rotted leaves,
uncover sprouts of green.
Gleefully I smile,
tips of crocus tops peeking at me.
Eye spy spring!

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Post is motivated by this painting recently seen in New York City’s MOMA: James Rosenquist’s Lady Dog Lizard, 1985.  Off prompt, but still appropriated for day 27, Napowrimo.

Bane of Beauty

Be afraid,
I am Pterois Volitan.
Beautiful mane of dorsal fins,
lionfish in the reefs.

Venemous.
I eat as I please.
No predators have I,
save men no longer fooled.

I have crossed seas
multiplied,
wreaked havoc
and swim where I please.

Biodiversity be damned.
I am your nightmare
even as day dawns
gracing your shores.

IMG_9736Posted for Napowrimo Day 25. The challenge: to write a poem of warning. Photo taken at the Bermuda Aquarium/Zoo.

Lionfish are native to the Indo-Pacific, but have somehow invaded the U.S. southeast, the Caribbean, and parts of the Gulf of Mexico. Because they are not native to the Atlantic waters, they have very few predators. They feed on small crustaceans and fish, including the young of commercial species. They are dramatically and negatively affecting the fishing economy, native ecosystems and biodiversity.

Tracing Whitman’s Path

Lying back, blue sky beckons me
carries me through dreams
until flock of geese interrupt serenity.
Rolling on my side, eyes shift to daffodils.
Yellow ruffles near still pond,
quiet in their breezy sway.

Noisey crowd above migrates north
racing through scattered clouds.
I rise reluctantly, retrace my steps.
Well worn path through banks of trees
leads to asphalt covered parking lot,
return to life’s routine.

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Written for Napowrimo Day 18’s unique prompt. Select a poem (or stanza from a poem), cover up all but the last line: write a response to that line. Now cover up all but the second to the last line: write a response to that line. Etcetera.  In essence, you read the poem backwards, creating your poem. Your poem responds to the original poem, and is its reverse.

I’ve used the first 6-line stanza of Walt Whitman’s famous poem,
I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud:

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze
Beside the lake beneath the trees
A host of golden daffodils
When all at once I saw a crowd
That floats on high o’er vales and hills
I wandered lonely as a cloud.

First line of my poem responds to last (6th) line of his stanza; second line of my poem responds his 5th line; third line of mine responds to his 4th; fourth line of mine responds to his 3rd; fifth line of mine responds to his 2nd; sixth line of mine responds to his 1st.  My last stanza simply completes my original poem as the “speaker” of the poem must leave the beauty and serenity of nature and return to life’s routine. 

What moment lies between?

To cruise the seas. Ship of many with restaurants, shops, shows, casino and dancing. Playing on the waves. Yet for me, it is the moments of silence I savor. Sunset on our veranda. Leaning into the salty breeze.  Pondering as body sways naturally. What lies between that place where red melds into black? Between moments in time? Between a last intake of breath and the final audible sigh? Clouds hover like memories floating through my mind. Mixed emotions. Content to stand and savor. Slow ache for loved ones faded from my life. Red streaks lessen, darkness consumes. I shiver in the suddenly cold air.

black cold red-streaked sky
Ursus lumbers to dark den
winter signals sleep

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Haibun prompt today at dVerse: think about CHIJITSU, a Japanese Kaigo that means lingering day….can relate to the moments of sunrise or sunset. Haibun: prose (must be true) followed by a haiku that must, in the true Japanese sense of the form,  include reference to a season.  Post also applies to day 16 Napowrimo’s prompt: something to do with play. Photo taken from the deck on our last cruise around South America.

Sadly we say goodbye to Victoria our dVerse host today. She’s been a force at dVerse since its early days in 2011. Thank you, thank you, Victoria.