One step forward, round and round, the labyrinth circles—go or stay? In the in-between, are answers found? Past finds future. What is the way?
The labyrinth circles—go or stay? She’s a shadow figure lost in blues, Past finds future. What is the way? Where are the clues?
She’s a shadow figure lost in blues in her mind-forests, she searches dreams– where are the clues? Nothing here is as it seems,
in the in-between. Are answers found in her mind-forests? She searches dreams– but nothing here is as it seems– just one step forward, round and round.
For Paul Brookes’ Ekphrastic Challenge. I decided to change it up a bit, so I wrote a pantoum this time to reflect the circles of Kerfe’s work. I revised it a bit from the one posted on Paul’s site–but these are all rough drafts. I couldn’t quite work in John Law’s work for this one. You can see all the art and read all the poems here.
She sleeps in a thousand blues of forest-shadowed whispers, waiting for the world to wake, now in-between–
and in her dreams, she listens for sky voices, the laugh of stars and birds remembering the rhythm of days, tiny rose-tips, yet unseen
but when, not if, they come again dressed in honeyed gowns of golden light, lingering– she’ll wake to take her place, sweet May Queen–
with each embrace, she color-spaces a trace of perfume recalls her paces, and soft poetry where she has been, always and forever green.
I haven’t done too many NaPoWriMo prompts this month because I’m writing for an Ekphrastic Challenge, and there are only so many poems I can write each day! But, I always visit the the Magnetic Poetry Oracle on Saturdays, and today she gave me this sort of folk tale poem.
Star-sparked and sea-born, all connected– homeless man, his faithful dog, hawks, the trees—you and me– from unknown light and ethereal blues, every shape and all the hues, space dust and double helix spring, repeating fractals in everything—patterns spread, threaded through the eye of time, from star to sea, we slither, smile, bark, howl at the moon, fear the dark—
and so, the universe never asks—what is the beginning, what is the end— it just is, when and then, again.
Paul Brookes’ Ekphrastic Challenge, Day 10. I was inspired by all three works today. You can read the other poems here.
Sleek pelts silvered in moon-spray, brown eyes see only each other, in this monochrome world the slivered crescent’s too high, and the twinkling birds too far away, though their lullabies soothe the midnight sea. There are only whispers, the susurration of the wind, the dreams of fish that arc above the surface, nocturnal mutterings—no danger tonight,
they touch nose to nose, then swiftly, fin-footed, in graceful pas de deux, they dance beneath the waves.
For Day 9 of Paul Brookes Ekphrastic Challenge. You can see all the art and read all the poems here.
I want to say, Dear Mother, do not fret I am gone, and all is set, you think, I know, our Father’s will and rule– but, oh I wish I lived to see my babies go to school! And all the sisters out at play— instead of here. The way
(my body disappeared I seem to float without it.)
I remember now, how yellow turned my skin and eyes, and mournful were my sighs and cries from aching head– and then overspread the blackest bile from within my bowels over all the sheets and towels. . .
and yet you tended me till I ceased to be
I no longer feel the pain. But Mother, I wish I remained.
For the NaPoWriMo prompt today to “write your own poem in the form of a monologue delivered by someone who is dead” and for the dVerse prompt where Grace asks us to write about the body. I wasn’t going to do either prompt, but then this came to me. It’s based on letters I read that were written during the yellow fever epidemic in Philadelphia in 1793. Many fled the city, but over 5,000 people died. The disease is transmitted by mosquitoes, so the epidemic subsided once the weather cooled. I remember sitting in the Quaker Archives at Haverford College reading one letter and nearly bursting into tears.
Listen, as Crow caws your future— winter goes, spring appears, cycles repeat forever, light to dark to light
from before time, it resonates– the afterlight of star-birds flapping their bright-feathered wings, and traveling on.
Ghost glimmers spot the sky. Humming with the moon, the sea sighs, everything connected. Now, listen again. See?
A Shadorma chain for NaPoWriMo, Day 8 inspired by my walk this morning. The crows have been so active, and right now a mockingbird is putting on quite a concert from a nearby tree. It’s a good time of year to look around and listen. Since I’m writing a daily poem for the Ekphrastic challenge, and I’m behind on all my work, I’m mostly not writing for the prompts this year. But, I do love the shadorma form. 😏
My poem, “Small Bites,” is up in the most recent issue of Anti-Heroin Chic. My thanks to EIC James Diaz for accepting this poem, and for his consistently beautiful journal. The first anniversary of my mom’s death is in a little over a week. She died from Covid. Please get vaccinated when you can and continue to wear a mask.