Let Sleeping Cats Lie: Haibun Quadrille

This is a Haibun of 44 words for Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday, using synonyms for play and guess, and for dVerse’s Quadrille Monday, where De Jackson asked us to use the word bounce.

 

It’s been a stressful couple weeks. Thoughts bounce about in my brain, as I try to sleep. My cat is nestled beside me, and his soft snores echo in my dreams. Time and space now speculative.

 

ideas frolic

gamboling animals romp

visions of wonder

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Franz Marc [Public domain ], via Wikimedia Commons

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Catch a Star

This was inspired by a poem Jane posted and our comments.

 

In the darkness, catch the stars

keep them, hold them, in a jar

with memories of long ago. . .

then on the nights when thoughts are bleakest,

let one go and watch it seek its

dream-mist companions of the light–

watch them floating, soaring high—

to the rhythm of your heartbeats, fly

on intangible wings to empyrean heights

follow fly, and do not stop or wonder why,

but in the darkness, grasp the jar

catch, hold fast, a glimmering star.

 

Anything But Black

ESO’s various observatory sites in Chile — Paranal, La Silla, Chajnantor — boast enviably low levels of light pollution. However, the skies overhead are rarely pitch-black! As shown in this image of Paranal Observatory, the skies regularly display a myriad of colours and astronomical sights, from the plane of the Milky Way shining brightly overhead to the orange-hued speck of Mars (left), the starry constellations of Scorpius and Orion, and the magenta splash of the Carina Nebula (upper middle). Despite the remote location there are also occasional signs of human activity, for example the sequence of lamps seen in the centre of the frame. These faint lights illuminate the route from the Very Large Telescope (VLT) to the Visible and Infrared Survey Telescope for Astronomy (VISTA) where this image was taken. Due to the highly sensitive camera this photograph also showcases a mysterious phenomenon called airglow. The night sky is ablaze with deep red and eerie green hues, caused by the faint glow of Earth’s atmosphere. Because of airglow, no observatory site on Earth could ever be absolutely, completely dark — although ESO’s do come pretty close. This image was taken by talented astronomer and photographer Yuri Beletsky, a member of the 2016 ESO Fulldome Expedition team. This team visited Chile to gather spectacular images for use in the ESO Supernova Planetarium & Visitor Centre.

 

 

Winter Solstice Dreams: Haibun

Here’s another winter solstice poem. This Haibun is for Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday. She asked us to use synonyms for the words cover and precipitation.

 

I’m tucked under the blankets. My big-eyed, grey-striped cat is cuddled against me. Our white cat has closed both his blue eye and his yellow eye on the pillow beside me. My husband, wrapped in a green-bordered patchwork quilt, has fallen asleep downstairs in his recliner. We all dream. Our dreams are shape-shifting creatures that fly high to dance together amongst the stars. I dream of winter snow melting in spring sunshine.  In my dream, there are green fields and blue horses in a silver mist. There is a building, where inside a dark room a woman slowly chews and swallows some strips of paper. She smiles because now she holds all the secrets–buried inside her like a seed. But someday they will sprout in light, blooming flowers of truth and beauty.

 

Dreams reign solstice night

soothed by moon’s lullabies,

slowly, the sun wakes

 

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Franz Marc, “The Dream,” [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

Distant Diamonds

Diamonds rain on distant worlds

through far-flung light, they’re hurled

as if in a dream, or time-stopped scheme

she sees this sight, this bright delight

sparkling glimmers in the night,

amongst them beings with feathered, icy arms

who dazzle with their unearthly charms

murmuring as they her enwound

twirling her so up is down, and all around

the sound surrounds–

the voices of the planets and stars,

and quasars hum and pulse in song,

and she wants to sing along

bewitched by time and space

but then it’s gone, this now elusive place–

yet when she hears the rain at night

she remembers the bewitching sounds, the transcendent light,

the sight of diamonds sparkling from the sky

and remembers that once she reached and she could fly

 

PIA21891_SaturnRings

“This image of Saturn’s rings was taken by NASA’s Cassini spacecraft on Sept. 13, 2017. It is among the last images Cassini sent back to Earth.”

 

I’m linking this to dVerse’s Open Link. Björn invites us with the holiday spirit in mind and the winter solstice soon to come. I brought sparkly space diamonds to the party. dVerse is taking a two-week holiday break.

Yesterday was my birthday. It snowed and things didn’t quite go right, but I read that it might rain diamonds on planets such as Saturn, Jupiter, and  Neptune, and I thought how beautiful that must be.

 

 

 

 

For My Daughters: Shadorma, Yeats Challenge, Day 27

I’ve combined prompts again–a Shadorma for Eliot’s November Shadorma Challenge and Jane’s A Month with Yeats Poetry Challenge, Day Twenty-Seven for both.

Today’s quotation:

“Once more the storm is howling, and half hid

Under this cradle-hood and coverlid

My child sleeps on.”—W.B. Yeats

 

 

I watch her

sleep, tiny body

breathes softly

in and out,

time focused

only on the here and now,

her dreams without words

 

 

did her soul

travel from the stars

I wonder,

discover

love grows exponentially

in lullabies sung

  

 

 

 

 

Sea Freedom: Shadorma and Yeats Challenge, Day 26

I’m combining prompts again for Eliot’s November Shadorma Challenge and Jane’s Month with Yeats. Here is today’s quotation:

“I would that we were, my beloved, white birds on the foam of the sea!”–W.B. Yeats

 

In a dream–

we flew like birds,

laughing gulls

soaring high,

or stood amidst the sea foam,

time and physics paused

 

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Ilya Repin. “What Freedom!” [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

 

 

Dream Goddess–Yeats Challenge, Day 18

This is for Jane’s A Month of Yeats Poetry Challenge, Day Eighteen. 

Today’s quotation: 

“The dews drop slowly and dreams gather;” —W.B. Yeats

 

She gathered dreams like berries in a basket,

grasped them, sorted them, sweet and tart,

an art,

matching dreams to dreamers,

sending them to lovers and schemers

some fragrant and ripe, like the fruit

but that wouldn’t suit,

not everyone.

Some dreams were like the fruit for jam or pies

mixed together, cooked, filled with hints of other things, or lies,

or perhaps words for the wise—

sometimes she even prophesized.

She went about her task with thoroughness,

not obsessed or oppressed,

it simply was her endeavor

she existed always and forever.

 

Luis_López_Y_Piquer_-_The_Goddess_Juno_in_the_House_of_Dreams_-_WGA13453

 

 

 

 

 

Wind Sighs of Dreams: Haibun

I woke to hear the wind sighing and moaning, the lonely sound of a train whistle at midnight. The house creaked, like a person turning over in bed, trying to get comfortable. The branches of the maple tree tap against the window. I try not to think of Wuthering Heights. I fall back asleep, my bed creaking like the house, as I toss through strange dreams: a woman with a mission, possibly dangerous. She may have been someone I know, in a costume, in disguise. Then there was poetry, lyrical snippets, now forgotten. Perhaps it was all an eerie visit from my muse.

 

Red gold trees ablaze

light flows through sun and shadow

dark-clothed ghosts hover

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This Haibun is for Colleen Chesebro’s Poetry Tuesday. The prompt words were eerie and costume.

 

 

 

Stones Turned: Haibun

I’m in bed thinking about the day, turning over thoughts and deeds, like stones, to see what lies beneath. Perhaps I’m looking for deeper meanings. I dream of a dead woman I never met, the ex-wife of someone I do know. She is funny, wise, and kind–vital and alive in my mind. She invites us to dinner. “Let’s dress up,” she says, “I think I’ll wear red velvet.” Perhaps she has the answers. But what is the question?

 

thoughts rolling in waves,

an ever-changing shoreline

doors to other worlds–

pipe dreams floating on seafoam,

or ships navigating home?

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This Haibun is for Colleen Chesebro’s Weekly Poetry Challenge. The prompt words were stone and turn. I really did have this dream last night.

 

Dreams, Again (Again)

Monday Morning Musings:

“We are like the dreamer who dreams and then lives inside the dream.”

. . .Who is the dreamer?”

Twin Peaks, Season 3, Episode 14, From Gordon Cole’s dream

 

In my dream, I was me, but different

and you were someone else, but you,

together, we were other beings, ourselves, but not–

or were we?

If we lived in that dream world

would we long for a more stable world

where we were people,

bound by time,

not creatures of space,

carried on the slipstream of light waves

 

We drink wine

talk about the past

think about the future,

the musicians sing

Rocket Man and Major Tom floating in his tin can

his dreams, our dreams

blowing spindrift from space

landing, covering our minds

IMG_0206

 

We celebrate a friend’s retirement

(from teaching, not the world)

his mother says to me she’s happy he’s retiring now

he can still enjoy it

they can travel

live a dream.

we talk with friends we haven’t seen in a while

past, present, and future–

tenses merging together–

remember when I saw you last,

here, but then

(this was the future)

marriages, births, and death–

dreams born and died

or perhaps still floating

drifting from the stars

in tin cans

on waves

 

 

We go to a movie

two strangers meet–

a woman who feels she must care for her mother

a man who feels stuck waiting for his father to recover or die

they discuss architecture

and the film lingers on the jewels of Columbus, Indiana

framing the characters in doorways and through windows

it is a movie in which marginalia assumes importance,

just as those asides are often important in lives,

the chance encounters,

the remarks remembered,

the dreams dreamed,

and set aside

we discuss the movie over coffee,

walk through the streets

and down to the river,

where people walk, living dreams,

where people once arrived,

full of hope

or full of fear,

tired masses,

spices and slaves,

a new land.

 

We watch movies,

and when we become involved,

we are the dreamers

experiencing their world

true of books, too,

once I dreamt

(a vivid dream)

I was the character in the book I was reading

I rode a horse

in northern England, centuries ago,

I spoke like I lived there,

it was so real

I was sure I had been there,

perhaps I was.

 

I had a dream I was me, but different

and you were someone else, but you,

a woman and a man

walk over a bridge

it happens over and over again

different timelines

variations on the theme of life

until they meet,

destiny,

they share a bottle of wine

the bottle and label are green

like her eyes

(like my eyes)

other beings, ourselves, but not–

or were they?

perhaps, we are inside the dream

we are the dreamers

we are the dream

 

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© Merril D. Smith, 2017

We saw the movie, Columbus. Trailer here.  The more I think about it, the more I like it. Definitely not an action movie. It’s a quiet poem of a movie.