I’m thrilled and very excited that my poem “The Way It Happened” has been published in the Ekphrastic Review as a challenge response. It responds to the most recent challenge–a painting by John William Waterhouse, “Hylas and the Nymphs.”
My thanks to editor Lorette C. Luzajic for selecting my poem. Jane Dougherty’s wonderful prose work is right after mine. You can read all the selected works here.
I’m sharing this with dVerse Open Link Night.
A Rainbow Future After the Storm
Soft dove clouds transform to dolphin dark,
again change, and roaring black wolves
pounce
with a flash, then
the shrouded monochrome world becomes a tapestry,
a multitude of shape, color, hues. Here, a strand of azure,
here, emerald-green, glistening with diamond sparkle, woven
under and over
embroidered with the vibrant wishes of children—blue horses, red deer,
twinkling golden stars, a spotted purple dog, a striped-orange cat—
a collection, a connection of
smiling faces brighter than the sun,
dream of a rainbow future–
after the storm has passed.
There was a mixup with the images, so Kerfe has been given her own day! So, this is Day 31 of the challenge, Kerfe Day. You can read the rest of the poems here. Once again, thank you to all the artists and poets. It’s been a wonderful, creative challenge.
I don’t know why, but this song went through my head as I started to write.
Once—
stars burst from before time,
blooming fire-flowers from incandescent seeds
germinating, spawning life
in scallop-shelled births on foam-flecked waves,
there is beauty, truth, in the shimmering blue sea,
and in the reflected light, an endless story
of rebirth.
From shadowed depths, fronds and fish, the slithery, slow-crawl–
scale to feather to skin, uncovered to epochs of the sun’s ground-warming,
Now—
the little mouse hides,
emerging to gaze at the stars as she gathers red berries–
all around her, winged predators
and two-legged destroyers
who forget ancestry and legacy—
that they were born from fiery blooms,
the winging, swinging, swirls of singing light,
and the expansive, cerulean sea,
where submerged memories rise, sparkling diamonds
to fly on the spindrift of eons–
catch them–if you can.
There’s a bonus image/poem tomorrow, but this is the end of the official poetry month challenge. Thank you to Paul Brookes for hosting this ekphrastic challenge–and for all he does for the creative arts community. Thank you to all the artists for your brilliant and inspiring images, and thank you to my fellow poets for sharing their work. Congratulations–it’s been quite a month! You can read all of today’s poems here.
Listen—
in the wine-dark night
for sailing ships, diamond bright,
they carry cargoes of mother-dreams,
the birth of when and then and why,
and all the new-born cries
of star-kissed light—
but all the comets, streaking bright,
no portents cry, no signs of will or won’t–
no constancy—just light.
Yet concentrate on the soulful sound,
of shimmering stars, and all around
hear the ringing ding dong ding
as bird-winged they twinkle-sing—
now watch as the comet phoenix-flies,
and listen as its call from ashes rises
not fate, fortunes, nothing symbolized–
simply light and song—
what you wanted all along.
For Day 29 of Paul Brookes’ Ekphrastic Challenge. Tomorrow is the last day of the challenge and of poetry month.
Inspired by KR28 and JL28
Blue of sky
to river flowing
colored light
green growing
tall, bright, with birdsong trilling
day into night
mockingbird
sings. Hawk is screeching
gulls laugh back,
call goodbye
to fly in formation, light-
glimmered wings in flight
paths swirling,
all the sounds whirling—
sky voices,
birds and bees,
stars and moon, owl’s mournful whoooo?
So, you dream of scenes—
blue of sky
and river flowing,
all the birds’
bright knowing,
summer sounds in winter’s dream—
I turn towards you.
A shadorma sequence for Paul Brookes’ Ekphrastic Challenge, Day 28. You can see all the art and read the poems here.
Inspired by KR27 and JC27
Recurring patterns, the leopard’s spots,
my cat’s dark stripes against the grey
the rings on snakes, the turtle’s shell–say
a spider’s web, or a snowflake falling,
the same skills in an artist’s drawings,
but each unique.
Individual thoughts, lives, memories,
we weave together—make a plait,
a history of this, or wait,
use a net to catch and hold,
the good, the bad, the horrid, the bold
lies and truth, untold and told—
and if we never catch that elusive fish,
the legendary—still we wish,
the net cast on the water
to find treasure for our sons and daughters,
and see the sun-caught sparkling blue
alive with light and promise, so, too
an outstretched hand
held out again and again, unplanned
a recurring pattern through generations
woven in and out of hopes and dreams.
Love. Caught? Sought or forgotten.
Not always what it seems–or
sometimes it’s more.
Day 27, just three more days for Paul Brookes’ Ekphrastic Challenge and poetry month. You can see all the art and read all the poems here. I’ve edited the end of this poem. I’ll be back later because I’m hosting dVerse Poetics today!
We search for a glimmer to put us at ease,
we watch for a beacon, bright in the sky.
We seek a light, a sign in storm-roiled seas,
and for a little while, we don’t ask why
we watch for a beacon, bright in sky,
augur portending, a hero or hope,
for a little while, we don’t ask why
the weary one’s an age-old trope,
augur portending, hero or hope,
each warrior, once a baby born–
the weary one’s an age-old trope,
wanted, revered, then mocked and scorned.
Each warrior, once a baby born
to her or him, words said and not,
wanted, revered, then mocked and scorned–
lessons learned and lessons taught.
To her or him, words said and not–
live well, and love, and take good care—
lessons learned and lessons taught,
faint or bright, a beacon glows everywhere.
Live well, and love, and take good care,
we seek a light, a sign in storm-roiled seas–
faint or bright, a beacon glows. Everywhere,
we search for a glimmer to put us at ease.
A pantoum for Day 26 of Paul Brookes’ Ekphrastic Challenge. My poem didn’t make it into his post, but you can read the others here.
Spring Symphony
of bassoon and flute,
the double-tonguing of the sparrowhawk, the reedy robin trill—
the tap tap tap tap tap
of woodpecker snare-drumming—pause–a half note rest—
now, April showers of marimba and harp.
then strumming, humming,
plunking, singing—allegro, with spirit!—
house lights down, soft spotlight
for the sweet lullaby of the moon.
Today is Day 25 of Paul Brookes’ Ekphrastic Challenge. We’re beginning the last week of this poetry month challenge. You can read all the poems for today here.
Inspired by KR 24, “Wishes” and JL 24 “Snipe”
Wishes glide
on many wings, some
slight flutter
newly born–
butterflies from chrysalis
dreams, desires seen,
soar and sing
as mockingbirds of
dreams. Or dove-
cooed clinging,
birds on a wire, resting,
still before the storm
gusts, blusters–
rising tide, wind blows
winnowing
like the snipe—
creeping dreams, such feathered things
that soar, fly, drift, die
and again
reborn, spring-lighting
from winter
gloom, hatched to
buzz, sting, flitter, sing, and then
sometimes. . . they come true.
A shadorma series for Paul Brookes’ Ekphrastic Challenge, Day 24. You can see all the art and read all the poems here.
Inspired by all three images
There’s magic held in ordinary things–
the robin’s song, the light it brings
in rosy dawn, when the world is silent
save its song,
a remnant of the ancient tunes—
the ones that drift from stars and moon
to rest in Grandma’s smile and hands–
both soft and strong
their movement deft, her knowledge a gift
a time-shifting swift,
a songbird that sings–
you belong,
words not needed, as with doggy grins and kitty purrs
the soft whinny of a favorite horse—all stir
the magic of this wondrous world
as light around a shadow long–
so, watch, listen, see—it floats, rests, soars on wings,
this quiet, splendid magic of ordinary things.
For Paul Brookes’ Ekphrastic Challenge, Day 23. Each of these challenge poems is written the day before it’s posted, so this one was actually written on Earth Day. Both of my grandmothers died when I was very young, but my daughters have had strong relationships with theirs. My mother died last April at age 97, but my husband’s mother is younger and going strong. You can read the other poems here.
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