Hear Me, I’m Here, NaPoWriMo

 

Here! He cries,

Here I am, me.

Hear me, he sings

then Cardinal takes wing.

 

See me, in wind she winds

and calls. Caw! Caw!

See me, in wind she whirls,

glides in a sea-misted twirl.

 

They’re there, then go,

their feathers glistening–

while I stand here, then there,

watching and listening.

 

For Day 14, NaPoWriMo. I’ve incorporated some homonyms. I’m tired today, but I was determined to write something.

 

 

 

Love Lives

Federico_Beltran_Masses_-_Under_the_Stars (2)

Federico Beltran Masses, “Under the Stars,” Wikipedia Commons

 

After time’s wind

aches from life going here

 

and there

you play in purple-shadowed seas.

 

But when you dream together

as summer-shine shows sweet in cool mist,

 

it beats away the blood-tongued things

 

and love lives whispering through

a thousand storms

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I did a very quick consult with the Oracle again, and she gave me a sort of alternate version of my Nightmare poem with some of the same words.

Nightmare, NaPoWriMo

Edvard_Munch_-_The_Scream_-_Google_Art_Project

The Scream,” by Edvard Munch. [Public Domain] “This version, executed in 1910 in tempera on cardboard, was stolen from the Munch Museum in 2004, and recovered in 2006.” Wikipedia.

Blood, here sprayed

like a scream.

 

And whispers,

frantic tongues

 

beneath the whys

of language.

 

Scrabbling, urging tongues

you recall, feverish,

 

you want–

some other time—

 

a when

before this dream—

 

you can almost see

the blush of the before,

 

and you open your mouth

but there’s no sound

 

(scream, no scream)

 

only the cackling around you

and you wonder

 

(What if the nightmare

never ends?)

 

 

Today’s prompt for Day 13 of NaPoWriMo is to write a poem about something spooky. I briefly consulted the Oracle early this morning, and she gave me some words and tips for this poem. But I know this isn’t my real message. I’ll consult her again later.

 

 

 

 

 

This Life, NaPoWriMo

William Heritage Winery

This life, dull

as it seems, without

flashy cars

or jazzy

toys, expensive vacations

to island beaches–

 

still, it’s mine

loved for its loving,

family,

husband, and

children, friends, the poetry

found in moon and stars,

 

in sunshine

moments of cat purrs–

wine kisses,

coffee and

talk, a movie, and a walk

into the sunset.

 

This life, dull

only to others,

but to me

contentment

(most of the time). Yes, worries,

but still, I’m dancing. . .

into the sunset.

 

 

Today, Day 12, NaPoWriMo, challenges us “to write a poem about a dull thing that you own, and why (and how) you love it.”  Another shadorma train and more lists.

 

 

 

 

 

Origins, NaPoWriMo

Franz_Marc,_Blaues_Pferd_II,_1911

Franz Marc, “Blue Horse,” 1911, [Public Domain] via Wikipedia Commons

When the stars

exploded, diamond

dust scattered

sparkling grains,

spindrift of night seas, and here

they planted themselves

 

in dream worlds,

I see shadow ifs

the before,

the after,

shadow seas and blue horses

places known, maybe

 

we swam in

oceans, we lived in

caves, and trees

sheltered us. And now? We seek

new stars. The moon hums

 

in comfort,

a warning of what

might be if–

or when–

we return to the starlight,

sailing cosmic seas

 

Today, Day 11 of NaPoWriMo asks us to write an origin poem. I decided to go way back. Kerfe inspired me with her shadorma sequence.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Butterfly Effect: A Variation, NaPoWriMo

Pond beside Multiplex, Voorhees, NJ--Merril D. Smith 2019

“’Cat’s paw’ is the weather term of the day. It is a light breeze affecting a small area, such as would cause a patch of ripples on the surface of a still water surface.”

–US National Weather Service, Nashville, TN, Feb. 5, 2014

Cat’s paw breeze tickles

the water ripples,

sighs in a reflective purr.

 

The goose quivers in delight

on the water ripples

honks to her mate, in flight

 

he answers from above

the water ripples,

then settles by his love.

 

Crow hears their squawks

from the water ripples,

caws from his perch on the rocks.

 

The sound carries for miles

beyond the water ripples

to where the mockingbird smiles,

 

and from up in a tree

far beyond the water ripples

he sings of hearts soaring free

 

in cat paw tickles

water ripples trickling

sighs, caws, purrs, and cries

 

And I open the window–

on a catercorner breeze

to listen to his reprise.

 

The NaPoWriMo, Day 10 prompt is to write “a poem that starts from a regional phrase, particularly one to describe a weather phenomenon.” I don’t know what region “cat’s paw breeze” comes from, but I love it. The poem evolved because yesterday afternoon, I listened to a mockingbird put on a long concert that included the calls of other birds.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Things the River Carries: NaPoWriMo

IMG_0659

 

I think of things the river has carried—

 

Lenape canoes and wooden ships with sails,

spices, barrels, and bails,

the stuff of merchant cargoes.

 

Immigrants and slaves

carried across ocean waves

seeking a safe harbor.

 

Geese and gulls

swimming around the hulls

and among the debris

 

left from centuries–

 

tree branches and stumps

animals that jump

to swim—away

 

never staying,

straying

varying

 

things the river has, is, will be

carrying—

 

dreams of a better life,

perhaps a husband or a wife,

or freedom, almost

 

touching, joining the ghosts

watching from the coast

history and things, strings

 

of visions with wings—

decisions and stings

flowing with the tide

 

hopes, feathers, trees,

flowing from river to sea,

passing like time,

and then away from me

 

For the NaPoWriMo prompt, Day Nine “list of things,” and for guest host, Linda, at dVerse  who asks us to write about prompt water.

 

 

 

 

 

Spring Show: NaPoWriMo

Spring, University of Pennsylvania

Monday Morning Musings:

“Dance is the hidden language of the soul, of the body. And it’s partly the language that we don’t want to show.”

–“Martha Graham Reflects on Her Art and a Life in Dance” (31 March 1985); republished in The New York Times Guide to the Arts of the 20th Century (2002), p. 2734.

“A study in scarlet, eh? Why shouldn’t we use a little art jargon? There’s the scarlet thread of murder running through the colourless skein of life, and our duty is to unravel it, and isolate it, and expose every inch of it.”

–Arthur Conan Doyles, “A Study in Scarlet”

 

 

From a garden

nature sings

dressed for spring

she puts on a show.

Can we,

do we

should we know

the answers?

They blow to the sky

in pastel petals—

Why?

***

We board the train

(no more rain)

So, notice the patterns

of shadows and light

the people shedding jackets,

the delight

of sunlight on the skin,

the day begins.

 

We walk—

a limited edition

cityscape

in an oeuvre that is vast

at last

feeling spring is here.

IMG_2065

Oh, look at the river view,

and how the artist expresses

something both old and new

Schuylkill River from Walnut Street

See the trees?

A work of impressionist art

Combined with naturalism,

Realism,

And there a bit of abstract expressionism.

A study in pink,

I think.

(Love in the air.)

Notice the light.

in this installation,

and the palette of hues

the vivid blues,

the pink, the white,

yellow added to this site.

Now inside,

the dancers dance

bodies tango

they go

this way,

slide from couple to trio

fusion of moves

cues

(she’s in high heels)

catch, swerve

in gender-fluid dives

into each other,

what divides us–

the sensual steps,

the turns,

we yearn

for what?

“No exit,” Sartre says

(ideas compressed)

from seeing ourselves

as others do,

and how do we hold on to

me or you?

We wander back

outside where spring

dances, prances, and glides.

An aside–

we converse with Ben

once again.

And the next day,

I’m once again outside

spring fever,

I decide

No cure,

but to immerse myself

once more.

See, there–

we drink some wine

our thoughts aligned

with others

of similar mind

the winery is crowded.

But this April day—

I wish it’d stay.

Then it’s gone—

another painting on the wall

but yet, not banal.

Don’t you adore

the artist’s shading?

Watch how–

there now–

see the bright light of day

slowly fading

to darkness,

come the night.

IMG_1872

 

Day Eight of NaPoWriMo challenges us “to think about the argot of a particular job or profession, and see how you can incorporate it into a metaphor that governs or drives your poem.”  I used some jargon of the art world.

On Saturday, we saw Union Tanguera + Kate Weare Company, “Sin Salida,” at the Annenberg Center. Here’s a short video from the company.

 

 

 

 

 

A Gift of Flowers and Song: NaPoWriMo

 

A gift of flowers and birdsong

that begins before dawn

and continues long

into the night

 

and sunshine bright,

even on days of grey,

it stays a bit lighter

than say,

a February day.

 

And so, spring brings

a gift

of things to come–

and I? I hear its hum.

 

This walk I take—

by water still, yet awake

it sings

content to be—

a gift I give to me.

 

Today, Day 7 of NaPoWriMo, the prompt is: “to write a poem of gifts and joy. What would you give yourself, if you could have anything? What would you give someone else?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

And You Ask Why: NaPoWriMo

Monet_-_Frühling_in_Giverny

Claude Monet, “Spring in Giverny,” [Public Domain via Wikipedia Commons]

I am moon-drunk

 

and watch to see her

whisper diamond-cool beauty

over here, there. . .

 

and now spring’s honeyed daylight shines

playing in time with the sweet blue sky,

 

aching of if

and the smell of dreams—

 

and you ask why–

though the wind chants

when, never, and after

 

Screen Shot 2019-04-06 at 7.28.10 AM

 

Day 6! I smiled when I read today’s prompt for NaPoWriMo: “Today, write a poem that emphasizes the power of “if,” of the woulds and coulds and shoulds of the world.” My poems are full of ifs, and the Magnetic Poetry Oracle often plays along.