Day fast approaches– peach glimmers lie beyond, but now moonlight sings, a rhapsody of silver rills joining star-song, an ancient stream,
like ghosts within, their faint echo lingers, the always of past carried on the universe’s waves coursing through brain and heart.
Now, the music murmurs secrets— sea-tongued murmurs, rain chants, join the moon’s music, sky-diamonds chime and plaintive violin notes fall from rooftops,
whispering if, whispering when we meet in dream-time wanderings who knows what comes after?
I’m taking a work break to post my poem from the Oracle because who knows what might happen if I don’t. I don’t want to find out! I have projects to complete by Tuesday, so I’m behind on reading and responding to comments and reading others’ posts, but I will get to them!
Tuesday afternoon (evening his time), I’ll be taking part in Damien Donnelly’s winter festive poetry party, Deck the Storms. Damien is the host and producer of the poetry podcast Eat the Storms. He is also a talented poet and wonderful person, who has thoughtfully scheduled this event as a birthday eve party for me! 😏 It’s free, but you need an Eventbrite ticket to attend this Zoom event. Here is the information.
We labor, belabor, debate, defend fend for ourselves, hope for trends
to alter course, reverse, against the wind we traverse, carrying the past in heart and mind,
find that light is a constant, but time is not— still we dine and drink some wine
without the rhythm and beats of city streets reflections found in river, not in town—
I find beauty all around.
It doesn’t change what is, or what may be— catastrophe, democracy’s fall, more plagues
all this or other. I read horror tales of ghosts less scary than most of what is real, or almost–the boasts
of the fascist chiefs, the spreading of so many false beliefs rumors can be deadly, and I think of the imposter priest
who despite his flaws, gets at the truth, and heals a village. So many maligned, but is there is goodness in us all?
Perhaps. Though it may be hard to tell. Crimes of passion, crimes of war, crimes of vengeance—so many more—
the people we neglect, the things we regret. And yet, the moon shines silver in the night,
the sky is blue, the sun is bright. I walk through shadows, and into light. Watch as birds take sudden flight—soar, unbound—
beauty all around.
Today is Labor Day here in the U.S. I took a look at my post from last year. So much has changed. This is a bit of a response to that, I suppose. I kept the format of couplets, though not ending rhymes.
Merril’s Movie, TV, and Whatever Club: We saw the Polish movie, Corpus Christi. It was Poland’s entry this past year for the Academy Awards. We had seen previews for it. I’m not sure if it made it to the theater in Philadelphia before they closed or not. In any case, we both thought it was excellent. Almost like old times, we discussed it over wine and dinner—though our discussion was the next day at a local winery.
We watched the French mystery series, Le Chalet with an earworm of a title song—even for those of us who don’t really speak French. It seemed like it was going to be a horror story at the beginning, but it turned out to be similar to an old-fashioned mystery, a Ten Little Indians sort of tale though with two timelines. We both liked it, though it was a bit confusing sorting out the characters for a while. We’re currently watching a Finnish mystery, Deadwind. It’s good, and I think we will become more involved with it as it goes on. There are lots of twists and turns—what seems like a straightforward murder case is not (of course). Both of these are on Netflix.
I just finished reading The Invited by Jennifer McMahon, a ghost story and also a mystery with different timelines and connecting stories. So, you know, a good Merril book. And my favorite podcast Ghost in the Burbs is back. Yay!
Oh, but speaking of favorite podcasts, the delightful Damien Donnelly now has a podcast. So. . . I guess that’s also my favorite (different genres). 😀