The Laughing Breath of Stars: Magnetic Poetry

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Look for magic

on a fire cloud—breezing

 

to embrace the laughing breath of stars–

almost an eternity of rhythm–

 

born if and always

to linger—

 

so, when waked

ghosts go (never sadly)

 

but after-voiced lie healed,

so old and sacred,

 

time-kissed

and remembered–

 

And we will celebrate that which was

and like angels dance

 

over brilliant blushing skies–

a universe at peace

 

This the birthday poem the Oracle gave me.

 

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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Ask, The Answer is Blue Beauty

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Franz Marc, The Tower of Blue Horses,” [Public Domain] Wikepedia Commons

They ask,

and we arm.

 

There, see the blood spraying,

our heaves and screams?

 

But my ache—

I dream blue beauty

 

showing light and life

after all—

 

a why pictured

to shadowed if

 

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Poignant words from the Oracle, who apparently is a Franz Marc fan–

or perhaps Martian sunsets.

The Language of a Thousand Loves

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Above, Moon sings

of honeyed times

 

her music rose-gowned

in sweet summer winds

 

sifting shadows

over the sea.

 

And we watch—

asking why of water-pounded rocks

 

as the sun

drives mist away–

 

there still sleeping –

 

the language of

a thousand loves with you.

 

I’m not quite sure I understand what the Oracle is saying, but I like the poem she gave me.

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The Brilliant Blush, and the Stars

Sunrise, National Park, NJ

The brilliant blush—

fire dancing and

 

the sky warms,

Ghost remembers this—

 

morning and joy

here awakened

 

in champagne clouds

breathing ocean air

 

I was like you—

so young–

 

haunted and not—

the sad slow whens–

 

but sail on

looking at the stars

 

embracing eternity,

almost

I had to get a message from the Magnetic Poetry Oracle before really getting started with my day.  But you can see that sometimes I do it in stages.  🙂

 

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Celebration

Monday Morning Musings:

“Once upon a time, when women were birds, there was the simple understanding that to sing at dawn and to sing at dusk was to heal the world through joy. The birds still remember what we have forgotten, that the world is meant to be celebrated.”

–Terry Tempest Williams, When Women Were Birds: Fifty-Four Variations on Voice

 

Once a woman had a fourth child, my younger sister, my friend. Once she turned sixty and decided to throw a party with dancing and drag queens, with dinner, drinks, and dessert. The room sparkled with anticipation. It radiated love. What felt cold at first, grew warm with love winging high and bodies dancing, prancing, and trying to fly. We paid tribute to my sister, and we remembered that despite all the horrible things in the world, love and friendship are things to be cherished and celebrated.

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My sister with Lady E

 

Summer turns to fall

leaves of many colors dance

birds trill, tweet, and soar

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My Girls

We left full and glowing, and after many twists and turns found our way home.

 

Sleep

to dream of the moon

singing languidly above

 

and recall the language

of purple gardens—

stilled—yet not—

 

the smell a crushing ache

as time flies by

sweet with ifs–

 

And so, we sing.

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The Oracle gave me that last part.

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Recall the Light

Recall the light—

 

a thousand summers,

sun and rose petals,

 

and the moon—

with soaring music

 

diamond language,

cool, but blooded,

 

she chants symphonies

of shadowed sleeping seas.

 

Here is life–

still beating

 

through time

crying if. . .

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John William Waterhouse, “Gather Ye Rosebuds While Ye May,” [Public Domain] Wikipedia

Some cautionary words from the Oracle?

 

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Our Whys

Sunrise, National Park, NJ

 

as rain pounds

the wind moans

 

a language of screams

and shadowed sky,

 

but beneath the blue-black beat

there is a moon singing

 

a dream chant of love—

 

and in time the sun will shine sweetly,

honey-tongued,

 

urging us to life

together through our whys

 

Yesterday, the sunrise was glorious. Today I woke to moaning wind and rain striking the windows. But the Oracle is wise and all-knowing.

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About Beauty

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A day all about beauty

she says, we will dream of this and there—

 

blue seas,

rosy light shot through with purple shadows

 

and time urging

let life run like water lives

 

storming, spraying, and drunk

whispering to the moon—

 

and honeyed winds will rock us to sleep

with music of the sky

 

playing if. . .

 

The Magnetic Poetry Oracle really made me work yesterday, but she finally gave me this one.

 

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