Going Forth–Haibun

I’m reblogging this poem of love while hate is all around. Happy Anniversary to my younger daughter and son-in-law.

Yesterday and today: Merril's historical musings

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Today tanks roll through the nation’s capital, and jets fly over a divided country, but I remember another Fourth of July where people came together to witness a union. Outside fireworks boomed and flared, but inside, love lit up the room. No excess displays are needed to whitewash the facts. Here, we share a couple’s happiness. With the stomp of a goblet, we’re reminded of the simple truth that love. . . is love is love is love. . .and that it endures.

lovers stand and watch

colors streak across the sky—

shattered glass echoes

through time, a kaleidoscope,

love forms and reforms again

Today is my younger daughter and son’s wedding anniversary. A few years ago, we celebrated three weddings within about two years. First our older daughter married her wife, then younger daughter married her husband, and then my sister married her wife. (You can find posts about…

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Waiting, Watching, Waking

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Odilon Redon, “The Muse on Pegasus”

 

Born in a dazzle of smoke and ice,

time travelers dancing to the rhythms of the universe,

 

their songs hold secrets, a symphony un-tongued,

 

but felt and heard in the wind–

of life, death,

and a longing for love—

 

the music of lust and light,

why, and if only—

 

we turn away, when we should linger,

 

waiting for the storms to end,

and watching for dawn to come,  laughing

waking the morning blooms.

 

My Saturday collaboration with the Poetry Oracle.

 

 

Soar, Crash, Burn, Rise

Monday Morning Musings:

Once my sister and I were chicks,

we sucked honeysuckle from vines,

and danced with bees on hot summer days.

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Wild honeysuckle

Then I became many birds. . .

 

a robin, who sings in morning

a mother goose, swimming with her mate

telling stories to her children

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and teaching them to swim and fly.

 

I became a heron,

standing at the water’s edge

as the frogs jump and ripples

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Frog ripples in the upside down world.

flow in expanding circles

 

like raptors in the sky,

on a quest,

for sustenance–

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we all fly this path,

 

ignoring the owl’s night warning–

danger is coming, danger is here!

We burn

 

and hope like the phoenix, we’ll rise again.

 

So, I become the golden peacock, a light-seeker,

even as my many eyes cry for the lost,

I fly to worlds only imagined. . .

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imagine them now–

 

and listen

for my star songs

I give them to you–

 

reach high,

 

hold them near your heart,

feel them flutter

with life.

 

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Reaching

Like most people I’m heartsore and weary. Since November 2016, the majority of Americans have been in shock, but the situation in our country, and in the world, continues to deteriorate. I know I’m fortunate to have a home, a loving husband, daughters, sisters, and friends, and food to eat. I have places where I can walk without fear. But, I’m worn from taking care of my mom, worn from her dying, worn my cat dying, of so many people dying. . .while the lies and the lack of leadership here have led to more deaths. I don’t know how to express all this. There are others who can say it better, but I write in poetry. So this was today, my musing. (Some of the photos come from this week, and some are older photos.)

 

On an entirely different note because we all need escapes, Merril’s Movie Club:  The Vast of Night, a new movie on Amazon is a lot of fun. We ordered takeout Saturday night and had a movie night. It’s sort of a retro sci-fi movie that pays homage to The Twilight Zone and old sci-fi movies. One review I read said something about how you’ve seen the story lots of times before, but it’s the way it’s told. We both enjoyed it a lot.

We also watched the show Undone on Amazon, and even though I’m not normally a fan of animated shows, this is such a Merril show. I learned that this type of animation is called rotoscoping. The show is funny, profound, weird, moving, and deals with moving through time and space, mental illness, deaf culture, indigenous cultures, family. . .each episode is less than half an hour.

 

 

 

 

 

Welcome Merril Smith #wouldyourather

Jill Weatherholt invited me to play “Would you rather?” Stop by to see my answers!

Jill Weatherholt

Today I’m happy to welcome friend, poet, author and blogger Merril Smith. For several years, Merril and I have followed many of the same blogs. I’ve really enjoyed getting to know her. Since she’s the first poet to play along, I was excited to read her answers. Thanks for playing, Merril!

Thank you very much, Jill, for inviting me to play “Would you rather?” I always read these posts with great enthusiasm, and I’m pleased to be on this side of things today. I see the world in many shades rather than simply black and white, and as you’ll see from the way I’ve answered these five questions, I’m not good at answering survey questions because I want to add disclaimers or ask, “but what if?” to every response.

I guess I’m full of contradictions though because I’m also good at taking and writing tests.

Would you rather be able…

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Sailing Through Time

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Redon, “Barque Mystique”

 

In a dream,

I sailed the night sky,

swallowed the music of the stars,

merged with them, glowing incandescent,

red shifting, drifting through time and beyond–

 

and when I woke,

I took your hand. We opened a door

together, began a new life,

of hopes, fears, love, tears–

ebbing, flowing, drifting through time–and beyond.

 

For  Anmol’s prompt on dVerse, “Portals,”  

I’m using this Redon painting again because it fits.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I Am Not Ready: NaPoWriMo2020, Day 8

 

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I am not ready for anything to happen,

I never am—

 

but I am not a bird or tree

with naked branches covered

now in tender yellow-green, newborn

reaching skyward,

like toddlers wanting to be held—

 

but we stand back,

admire from a distance

the wispy clouds

caught by unseen winds, drifting —

 

I am drifting–

not ready, I’m not, never am,

but look—

that blue, that white, that yellow and green,

dancing on a robin’s song.

 

I am not ready,

anything can happen.

It can, it has, it does–

but look again,

the pink moon rises,

and soon will come the dawn.

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Pink Moon, 2020

The NaPoWriMo prompt for Day 8 is to use a line from a poetry bot. I used a line from the Sylvia Plath Twitter Bot. The line, the first line of my poem, actually comes from her poem “Three Women.” My poem has nothing to do with her poem—I simply used the line.

I apologize for being so behind in reading. So many prompts, and so much poetry–which is a good thing! Tonight is the start of Passover, and we had a family emergency this afternoon (everyone is OK).