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.
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.
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!
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.