New Year’s Doorways: Haibun Quadrille

This 44-word Haibun is for Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday Poetry Challenge, where the challenge was to use synonyms for ambition and change, and it is also a quadrille for dVerse, where Grace asked us to use the word leap.

 

In the past, I leaped into the new year with aspirations. Now I glide on the slipstream of ghosts. Past, future merge in star songs. I wonder if doorways are opening or closing?

 

Pirouetting stars–

old year leaps into the new

embraced by moonlight  

 

 

Embed from Getty Images

 

 

 

 

 

 

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The Race: Yeats Challenge

This is for Jane’s A Month with Yeats Challenge.  Sorry for so many posts today. I’m doing them while I get a chance before I’m back to projects and before Thanksgiving.

This quote is from “The Old Age of Queen Maeve.”

“out of the dark air over her head there came
A murmur of soft words and meeting lips.”—W.B. Yeats

 

Once she was young and fair of face,

she lived life as if it were a race

where she was the brightest and fastest, and before it stopped

she would need to make it to the top.

But now she was confined to a castle tower

so far in time from her bridal bower

and instead of those who loved her well,

it was to her a sort of hell

with only servants and guards who gaped and glowered.

And so, she sat, and sometimes she’d spin,

sometimes ponder, or wonder about her sins

(of which she thought there were many

but as with her life, far from ordinary.)

Of late she had begun to tire,

become very cold, even before the fire,

she thought sometimes her husband, her lover,

was there in the night, his spirit would hover

as if to say, soon, though not today

once again, you’ll dance and sway

in my arms—we’ll be together,

it will be like yesterday

when you were young and fair of face,

but you’ll no longer be running in the race,

a few nights later he came for her,

took her hand and opened a door

the glowering servants saw a faint glimmer

that grew bright, then dimmer in the night

and she was gone, to dance in the starlight.

 

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Ford Madox Brown, “Convalescent: Portrait of Emma Madox Brown,” [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Starry Nights: Musing and Shadorma Challenge

Monday Morning Musings:

“This morning I saw the countryside from my window a long time before sunrise, with nothing but the morning star, which looked very big,”

–Vincent van Gogh to Theo, Saint-Rémy, France, 1889

“For myself, I declare I don’t know anything about it. But the sight of the stars always makes me dream.”

–Vincent van Gogh, letter to his broth Theo, July 1888

 

It was midday, but we saw stars,

swirling lines

and colored bars

65,000 hand-painted frames

aiming to depict the art and life

the vision, the strife

artistry in different forms–the imagination

to take his art, recreate, use animation

caught us,

and we flowed with the waves of light

through bright days and starry nights.

 

Vincent loved

his brother, Theo.

Wrote letters,

long missives

every day penning his thoughts

on art, love, and life

 

The movie involved a bit of mystery

born not just from art, but from Vincent’s history

of writing these letters to brother Theo

and so

Postman Joseph Roulin

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Sends his son to deliver one

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found after Vincent’s death

Armand travels, meets the people with whom Vincent interacted

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Vincent van Gogh, “Dr. Paul Gachet,” [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

Learns what they felt, and how they reacted

to his art and eccentricities,

some charged, by his electricity,

others repelled,

the story told almost Rashomen-style

different versions of the artist and the man

and we’re left to understand him, as best we can.

 

An artist for a few years only,

failing at other careers,

art dealer, missionary,

he was a visionary

though his stern parents thought he was a failure,

he painted over 800 paintings in his short career

and it is clear

that he suffered for his art

and gave from his heart

his mother disposed of his work in a crate

finding out–only too late

though she thought he was dim and full of whims

others a genius thought him

 

We walk out into the warm November day

drink coffee

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And look at the colors play

Through city streets and historic sites

And think about Vincent’s short life

 

A few days later

We’re immersed again in art

Using a gift from friends–

sisters of my heart–

we ponder, peruse,

perhaps a snooze,

 

or eat and chat

perhaps a scream

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(imagine that)

I think of light

And creativity

of sun and clouds

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and starry nights

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Ceiling of van Gogh Café

And so, to bed

pillows piled high

from a cat, a gentle sigh

the night here cloudy

perhaps we’ll sleep soundly.

but in our dreams

nothing is as it seems

 

in our dreams

we fly, starry skies

swirl and flow

on light beams

we ride, silver stardust flows

magic of the night

 

Immersed in art

through starry nights and clouded days

seeing magic, creativity,

imagination, a constant, that stays

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We saw the movie Loving Vincent. Trailer here.

We visited Ground for Sculpture. I have many more photos that may appear at some point.

I missed a couple days of Eliot of Along the Interstice’s November Shadorma Challenge,

so I’ve put a couple into this week’s musings.

Journey through my Mind: Haibun

A thought, and my brain takes off on a journey. Turns me around, mind-wandering through worlds we cannot see, time, and space, a trace of Chaos theory, the hard problem, history and mythology. I seek connections, new directions.  I wonder about ghosts, hosts, and cat dreams. Streams of thought, or so it seems. In the end, I hope (familiar trope), looking for the good, the light. I wake up happy to see the sleep-bound moon and the growing dawn. Nothing is foregone. My heart sings and wings with the birds.

 

birdsong as night falls

cardinals’ red echoes leaves

summer sighs farewell

 

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This Haibun is for Haibun Monday at dVerse. We’re asked to write “a haibun about why you write the style of poetry you write. Not why you write poetry, but the why of your style.” This is to be followed by a classic Haiku, which must include a season word. We were also asked (an option) to post a photo.

 

Sky Show: Tanka

Starlight_sower_(1)_by_artist_HAI_KNAFO_2011_inspired_by_Or_Zaruaa

watch sky-show above

sing light language symphony

together through storms

 

we ache elaborately

gown’d by life and could have–but

 

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The Oracle gave me a Tanka for Colleen’s Weekly Poetry Challenge. The prompt words were watch and voice. I substituted sing for voice–because you don’t argue with the Oracle. 😉

Wake and Embrace, Happy Anniversary

Wake and embrace—

linger for a universe of morning

perfumed with coffee and color.

Picture this,

(my window, see?)

breathe the peace surrounding you and me,

flowering cool green

on velvet words almost to eternity

 

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Morning Sky after the Storm, West Deptford, NJ

 

Today is our 39th wedding anniversary! I’m glad the Oracle came through with something nice, even if she sometimes messes up the spelling.

Yesterday morning we had thunderstorms with tornado warnings, but then the sun came out. Sometimes nature gives you a metaphor. Some of you know I’m past deadline on a manuscript for an encyclopedia, and that I’m now researching and writing a second chapter because a contributor did not come through with something I could use. It’s been quite a storm, but I’m embracing blue skies and velvet words today.  🙂

Spots of Color Bloomed

Spots of color bloomed,

there in the mist,

pink and red, surrounded by green

with glistening sheen

life burgeoning, not yet entombed

but solidly rooted,

perfectly suited

(like us)

to withstand the rain–

again and again–

but then to greet the sun,

when at last, it comes

drifting down

crowning the day on floating rays

lighting the wings of birds in flight

whisking away the gloom

(the scent of petrichor lingers)

making color, life, and love bloom

 

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My husband planted these yesterday between rain showers. It made me happy when I looked out the window.

For those keeping track,  I needed to take a poetry break.  🙂

Five Views of the Sea: NaPoWriMo

 

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Ocean City, NJ

1.

Look closely,

at its sparkling surface

where rainbows dart and dance in the spray,

flowing currents

not green or grey or blue,

but multi-hued,

a thousand variations on the theme of life

 

2.

Beneath the surface,

fish swim, eat, spawn

schools of action, not thought

(or so I think)

their entire universe,

the stars seen through the water

bob up and down

 

3.

The whales sing in whistles and clicks,

a choral group with perfect pitch,

songs of courtship, longing, danger

giant bodies, buoyant in work and play

cooperating, defending,

underwater hearts beat in sea rhythm

 

4.

In small boats, they journey

guided first by the sun and stars,

later by navigational tools,

explorers, fishermen, immigrants

they sailed then,

they sail now,

always and forever,

on the slipstream of time

 

5.

The lovers stand on the shore

holding hands, bodies close

as if to make two, one

gazing at the waves,

each lost in thought,

their dreams mingle, float

drift toward the horizon

 

This is for NaPoWriMo, Day 6. The prompt was to write a poem that explored different views or aspects of something.

Sweet Water Song and Look Out They’re Here: Magnetic Poetry Saturday Challenge

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The oracle first gave me this poem, a contemplation of life and love. The bottom seems to be cut off in the screen shot. I copied it first, just in case. Perhaps the oracle thought that was a better ending.

Sweet Water Song

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Ask an ancient river

whither come love

between moss or spring bloom

a color bright

& moon over rock

it is here

I know

follow sweet water song

and gentle breezes

making poetry

to ask why

this life

here

 

Then this one came from the leftover words.

Look Out! They’re Here

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though vivid

never watch

as cold brown blanket

rose above him

No

Life who were

Some say

Walk

Wander this world nightly

 

 

Both poems are for Elusive Trope’s Magnetic Poetry Saturday Challenge.  I think they illustrate our dual natures. I watch Masterpiece Theatre and The Walking Dead.

Everyone is welcome to play along on Magnetic Poetry Saturday. See the links on Mr. Trope’s page on his blog, Specks and Fragments.