Sail Into the Vast Ever After

 

See how time darkens her eyes,

yet her heart embraces still

this shrunken universe of

clouded color and cool breezes

 

~bringing fire from long ago~

 

the morning wakes bleeding red

but the dazzle-blue world throbs with if—

I listen to its magic,

let the ghosts sing on

 

~and fly away~

 

the champagned air dances to star rhythms

with flowering smiles–

it and we who were

sail into the vast ever after

 

 

The Oracle and I collaborated on this poem, which was a puente, but then we kept going. . .I suppose that’s what a bridge to the universe would do.

See All Ifs

after peach light of day,

purple shadows spray-dress sky–

moon sings, “see all ifs,”

in falling petals of time

recall its whispered music

 

I had a crazy weekend, and I didn’t get to do a proper consultation with the Oracle yesterday. The sky was beautiful last night. She must have seen it and gave me this tanka. I forgot to take a screen shot of the tiles.

A Laugh from the Sky

A laugh from the sky–

and in a broken breath

a dazzle cloud of joy dances

into the morning

 

~like a soft ghost~

 

time flies in eternal rhythms

of almost and ifs

but we remember,

the brilliant kisses of the universe

 

I’ve written almost a thousand words this morning, so I took a very short break to consult the Oracle. I haven’t had much time to write poetry this week. We collaborated on this puente, but I’m pleased she’s in a good mood.

 

Her Heart Kissed Joy

Peder Severin Krøyer [Public domain] “Summer Evening at Skagen beach, the artist and his wife”

Her heart kissed joy—

as if

she was not born

of hard work

and never would go far–

but sailed on stars

and heard them laugh

 

~in a brilliant champagne sky~

 

over the ocean’s voice

I ask you to linger,

remembering this–

a window in time–

and you smile in the soft night

while we dance through

a universe of always

 

I have so much to do, and I’ve been feeling so stressed, but look what the Oracle gave me today. This puente! I’m feeling better now.

 

Rising Storm

 

Sea screams a storm

of purple winds blowing wild

cool salty spray

 

rising

 

as we rose up together–

and after, in luscious light

the moon whispers, “if” . . .

 

. . .and we dream

 

I got a bit over 1,500 words written for my book, so I’m taking a quick poetry break before I get back to work. (Slow going when you’re researching at the same time.)  The Oracle knows what’s going on.

From that Sky

 

From that sky

we sail into tomorrow,

remembering the spray

of cloud breath

on dazzle blue,

and the laughing stars of after

 

~the waking fire of the universe~

 

comes, ghosts from eternity

dance through the vast darkness of time

to linger in my heart,

and I look and listen to the angel-voiced day

breezing with poetry–

bringing the magic of if

 

Another struggle with the Oracle to get this puente–another collaborative venture.  I think she knows my brain right now is scattered in a million different directions.

Moon Dreams

 

Moon rose

whispering if over stormy sea

and diamond-lighting rocks

 

~through a blue-shadowed sky~

 

I dream of a honeyed-tongued goddess

singing the music of a thousand springs

and time stops there, recalling when

 

~and after~

 

we watch

as mist blows away,

soaring pink

 

The Oracle made me work for this double puente, which probably isn’t a form, but oh well, more rule-breaking. I think she has more to say, but I’ll let this stand for now.

Dreams of Why and Will

I sleep and dream

of purple skies

and ships heading into

pink-licked light.

If whispers above blue rocks—

a symphony of when and after

 

~the storm stops~

 

we are still together,

in love

with an upbeat,

fiddlers on a roof.

Let us not ask why,

but play music of we will.

 

The Oracle made me work, but she gave me a puente.

She Sees Home

“Powerful gushers of energy from seething stars can sculpt eerie-looking figures with long, flowing veils of gas and dust. One striking example is “the Ghost of Cassiopeia,” officially known as IC 63, located 550 light-years away in the constellation Cassiopeia the Queen.” Image Credits: NASA, ESA and STScI; Acknowledgment: H. Arab (University of Strasbourg)

 

She sees home

in the poetry surrounding her,

listens to a laughing ghost

kissing the perfumed sky,

sails it, this smoky magic

dazzled with if.

 

How to make it linger?

Here was born dark–

yet from it

brilliant angels wake,

and smile.

 

My message from the Oracle today.

 

Star Sailors

They sail the vast night sky

not-men, timeless,

born of stars’ fevered joy.

They explore eternity,

laughing color

 

and poetry

 

flies into her broken heart

bringing if and blushing desire

in words so long secret. . .

 

and ghosts listen,

and smile, remembering this magic

 

 

My message from the Oracle–an almost-puente.  She made me work for it.