A World of Blue Horses Wakes

Franz_Marc, Blue Horses

Franz Marc, Blue Horses

 

Clouds of coffee and steel part with a blush,

red sky voices the universe’s secrets,

ghosts of stardust, born in brilliant dazzle,

lingering, exploring time,

 

~and all the ifs~

 

dance on a green breeze’s laugh

letting you picture the possibilities–

a corduroy heart can be patched,

a world of blue horses wakes. Listen.

 

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Another collaborative Puente with the Oracle, though most of the words came from her, and she clearly likes color.

 

 

 

 

The Poetry of If

Marc_-_Träumendes_Pferd

Franz Marc, Dreaming Horse

 

Blue magic perfumes the night

(and ghosts are almost here)

in my heart, embracing

haunting, breathing secrets

of eternity

 

~and the universe~

 

throbs and dazzles–

there a star dances,

and voices wake

laughter, joy–

the poetry of if

 

A collaborative poem with the Oracle. She seems to be fond of the Puente form.  I think the blue horses must dream blue magic.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Wonder in Rainbowed Worlds

Franz_Marc, Blue Horses

Franz Marc, Blue Horses

 

Wonder

as bright stars fill

night sky without design,

arranged by chance, dancing light sings

through time

 

find peace

in prismed glow

sparking within your soul–

rainbowed worlds where blue ponies graze,

content

 

I’m feeling the need for the blue horses today–a Crapsey Cinquain sequence for Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday, using synonyms for plan and spend.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Little Deer, NaPoWriMo

GUGG_Red_Deer

Franz Marc, Red Deer

I see you, Little Deer, in the pre-dawn gloaming as you graze on my neighbor’s grass. I watch you, afraid to breathe, knowing that magic can vanish in a blink. But did I move? You raise your head, sniff, and dart down the block, bleating, bleating, bleating for your mother. A chance encounter–you probably will not remember it, but I won’t forget you. I walk inside, as the sun peeps over the horizon.

Moon croons farewell

as dawn whispers promises

fawn sprints after them

 

Day 23 of NaPoWriMo challenges us to write about an animal. I decided not to write about cats or birds because I always write about them, and I remembered this little deer I saw one morning a few years ago. But I guess I’m predictable because I discovered that exactly three years ago, on April 23, 2016, I wrote a poem for NaPoWriMo about a different deer in a different neighbor’s yard, but I mentioned this one. Here’s the link. It has a slide show, too.  🙂

 

 

 

 

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.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Born in Blue

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Franz Marc, “Rehe im Walde (II)” Wikipedia Commons

 

Born in blue,

after eternity,

 

the slow magic of stars–

windows to the universe.

 

Ask it

with breath from flowered mornings.

 

Look,

here is your heart,

 

the sky, all poetry

and laughing words,

 

lingering,

embracing you.

 

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My weekly consult with the Oracle. She sees into my soul.

 

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.

 

 

 

 

The Magical Spring Night, NaPoWriMo, Day 8

Once–

or more

(perhaps a dream that’s come before)

in the silver-glimmered light

the owl soared—

flash of white–

her cry echoing

(echoing)

in the night,

waking the sleeping to the tune

of the luminous, waxing, humming moon—

 

and so, they prance, dance–

as if in a trance

(or maybe not)

they mark their spots,

perhaps a play

to keep the evil ones at bay

like foxes against the hounds–

they stand their ground

 

Final stand?

Here–

 

hear

the sounds

the susurrus of this enchanted ground

magic swirls,

unfurls in unsuspected streams–

unless seen within a dream–

but in the rose-tipped dawn

the golden fawns gambol

on a world pristine,

alive,

breathing,

reborn newly green.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I liked today’s NaNoWriMo prompt—to “write poems in which mysterious and magical things occur.”

 

 

 

 

 

Let Sleeping Cats Lie: Haibun Quadrille

This is a Haibun of 44 words for Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday, using synonyms for play and guess, and for dVerse’s Quadrille Monday, where De Jackson asked us to use the word bounce.

 

It’s been a stressful couple weeks. Thoughts bounce about in my brain, as I try to sleep. My cat is nestled beside me, and his soft snores echo in my dreams. Time and space now speculative.

 

ideas frolic

gamboling animals romp

visions of wonder

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Franz Marc [Public domain ], via Wikimedia Commons

Winter Solstice Dreams: Haibun

Here’s another winter solstice poem. This Haibun is for Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday. She asked us to use synonyms for the words cover and precipitation.

 

I’m tucked under the blankets. My big-eyed, grey-striped cat is cuddled against me. Our white cat has closed both his blue eye and his yellow eye on the pillow beside me. My husband, wrapped in a green-bordered patchwork quilt, has fallen asleep downstairs in his recliner. We all dream. Our dreams are shape-shifting creatures that fly high to dance together amongst the stars. I dream of winter snow melting in spring sunshine.  In my dream, there are green fields and blue horses in a silver mist. There is a building, where inside a dark room a woman slowly chews and swallows some strips of paper. She smiles because now she holds all the secrets–buried inside her like a seed. But someday they will sprout in light, blooming flowers of truth and beauty.

 

Dreams reign solstice night

soothed by moon’s lullabies,

slowly, the sun wakes

 

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Franz Marc, “The Dream,” [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons