The Sea Sings: Magnetic Poetry

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Guillermo Gómez Gil, “Moonrise” [Public domain] Wikipedia Commons

The sea sings

the music of time

 

recalling

in her shadowed beauty

 

gorgeous life and bitter blue-black

screams of why ripped by purple water.

 

But I sit beneath the light of tiny diamonds

and dream

 

seeing ships go,

and wanting you.

 

The wind licks my skin, whispers

when, if. . .let love in.

 

My weekend message from the Magnetic Poetry Oracle.

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Sheep, Perchance to Dream

How to explain the surrealism of my dreams—

the talking sheep—

 

she holds a menu

and politely requests seasoned breads.

 

I’m not confused that she can talk, read

or walk upright—

 

I only regret

that the bread is unavailable,

 

and that the menu should say seasonal

instead of seasoned.

 

I wake laughing,

but later ponder,

 

who knows what talents a sheep has

or what desires?

 

We see the flock, the crowd,

not the individual

 

yearning for something better,

until they take a stand.

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Franz Marc, “Sheep,” [Public Domain] via Wikipedia Commons

This is a late offering for dVerse Open Link night, where Mish has asked us to post one poem on snow or anything else. I went for something else. I’m still catching up with reading others’ posts. I’ll try to catch up before latkes and wine on Sunday!  🙂

 

 

The World Is and Was and Could Be

and a girl said

through a shadow,

a mist of raw blood,

drunk friends,

his sweaty smell

fingers at breasts.  . .

No!

Stop!

She is thousands.

The storm still ripping,

showing what we are

and what could be.

The moon whispers,

asks us to soar.

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Morning Moon

 

say we dream—

watch the light

spray like water,

sweet music of

wind, rock, and forest.

Sit with me there

in our away and after,

seeing ifs

 

Two poems from the Oracle. She is following the news.

 

 

Coffee and Stars

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Ask about coffee,

but explore champagne.

Linger at cool marble angels—

live time,

but breath the secrets of ghosts.

Wake and be dazzled.

Look! The stars smile.

 

 

Embed from Getty Images

 

 

Once again, the Oracle knows.

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Open the Star: Magnetic Poetry

Open the Star

 

A child, a girl, explores,

lingering with the red star.

(Open it.)

It will fool the dark cloud

and no one need live a life

bleeding, dirty, and sad.

But this then—

you must listen to

voices throb in ocean rhythms,

secrets of time and universe make magic.

Go and wake.

Let your heart breeze

with peace.

 

 

Embed from Getty Images

 

 

A bit of surrealism? A myth from the Oracle?

The Dream Message: Magnetic Poetry

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Look,” the woman said,

“from a window, day dazzles.

Explore!

See that brilliant blue ocean

vast, ferocious, and old?

Sail it with joy,

let in magic—

perfumed mornings’ colored fire,

embrace its poetry.

Listen. It’s time.

Wake.”

(Her ghost lingers.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A message from the Oracle.

Blue Pony Dreams

Enchanting dawn slips

silently past the night,

and with her rosy lips

scatters her light

as she kisses the world awake.

Then—I ache

remembering my dreams

of blue ponies by incandescent streams.

I’ve seen them as I danced among the stars,

but in the light of day,

their world seems much too far away–

and yet–

I know, if never truly seen, still the ponies are there. . .

prancing, shining with blueish sheen, somewhere.

 

Franz Marc, “Blue Horses,”(Public Domain) Wikipedia Commons

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This is for dVerse, where Jilly asked us to write about “unseen.” Last week, Jane Dougherty reminded me about the blue horses. She knows they’re real, too.

 

 

 

 

Dream Light–Magnetic Poetry

Let me see dream light

whisper shadow music of red moons—

a language of aches, wind, water,

and time,

singing honey-tongued

of what was or never is

beneath a thousand whys

 

Embed from Getty Images

 

The Oracle is enigmatic today, as usual.

Breath of Dawn

Silence—as the curtain falls

weighted with emotion just before applause.

Silence—just before the thunder booms,

as though the sky must first absorb the sound

before it’s released. . .breathe in, breathe out. . .

Silence—seconds before the sun awakens,

the cat stretches and yawns,

you turn over as twitters and chirps begin to fill the air,

where traces of dreams still linger—whispered sighs—

they float away, up into the rose-swept sky.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Another Silence poem for Dwight’s Sounds of Silence dVerse prompt, and it’s punctuation -filled for Björn’s dVerse prompt. 

Dream Puzzles: Haibun Quadrille

I dream of huge white blossoms flaming and shooting off petals into the sky, turning it dark with flowery ash. Wondrous and a bit terrifying, this puzzle of my mind.

 

Moon silvers the trees,

green leaves pale in midnight glow—

dreams waiting to bloom

 

Anonymous, Südländische Ideallandschaft bei Mondschein, [Public Domain] via Wikipedia Commons

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Haibun quadrille for dVerse. Mish has asked us to use the word “puzzle,” or some form of it, in a quadrille, a poem of 44 words.