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.
“The irregular galaxy NGC 4485 shows all the signs of having been involved in a hit-and-run accident with a bypassing galaxy. Rather than destroying the galaxy, the chance encounter is spawning a new generation of stars, and presumably planets.” Credit: NASA, ESA; acknowledgment: T. Roberts (Durham University, UK), D. Calzetti (University of Massachusetts) and the LEGUS Team, R. Tully (University of Hawaii) and R. Chandar (University of Toledo)
After the secrets dance
from blushing clouds
and with wild magic
(like long kisses)
wake
~an eternity of ifs~
till you return,
and beneath the honeyed sea-spray
where diamond drops shine in the light
we embrace again and again
remembering this dazzling life
~and yet~
here with fevered almosts
ghosts surround us,
haunting in soft color
firing hearts and voices,
to picture never and always
Ilya Repin, “What Freedom”
The magnetic poetry Oracle and I collaborated on this double puente. So, that’s probably not a form, but I don’t argue with the Oracle.
The fire dances–
flowering in brilliant colors
laughing and dazzling with if–
and it lingers—
(like the moon’s smile)
a secret
your heart embraces
The Oracle obviously saw this same sunrise today—with a pink streak leading to the lingering crescent moon.
Moonrise over a South Jersey field, November.
The sleep shadows said
live life as a moon rising through the mist
with dreams raining from her
in honeyed-diamond language
shining with ifs.
~So, you recall the sweet luscious beat~
as we love and ache
and watch men lie and shoot.
Yet still the sky sings in light-music of purple-pink,
and it floats on our tongues
as the wind whispers why?
Another puente from the Oracle. It seems she knows the world is an especially confusing place these days. (And also that I had some very strange dreams just before waking today.) I didn’t take a screen shot because I planned to come back to the tiles. I thought I emailed the poem to myself, but it vanished. Mysterious world. Here’s the link to the Magnetic Poetry Oracle.
I’m linking this to dVerse’s Open Link Night, which Lillian is hosting, and I’m getting in just before it closes.
The galaxy NGC 1156 resembles a delicate cherry blossom tree flowering in springtime in this Hubble image. The many bright “blooms” within the galaxy are in fact stellar nurseries — regions where new stars are springing to life. Text credit: ESA (European Space Agency) Image credit: ESA/Hubble, NASA, R. Jansen
The universe wakes
in a brilliant blush of color
flowering dazzle clouds that sail on ifs
in magic rhythm from was to is
~for eternity or not~
do we embrace
with fired hearts,
desiring stars,
remembering home
A puente from the Oracle.
Beat blackness away,
and dream
of cool lakes and gardens—
the scent of peaches
lives here
where sun honeys skin and rocks.
What if the storm still screams?
The sea sprays blue whispers,
and the moon sings through shadows
with silvered light-music
recalling all the whys of love.
From my Saturday visit with the magnetic Poetry Oracle. I forgot to take a screen shot of the tiles. It’s been one of those days already, and it’s not even noon.
Let magic sail in
on a brilliant candy corn sky
this blushing child heals—
time the thing of poetry
and night thoughts,
dances yet lingers
~flowing in circular patterns~
eternity’s ghost-fires
sends colored smoke clouds
from the stars.
In this rhythm of old secrets
the universe dazzles with if—
listen.
There’s a heavy rain falling this morning, but yesterday morning was beautiful. I didn’t get a chance to consult the Oracle yesterday, but she must have known I had a good day and gave me this puente. (I added a few words she couldn’t be bothered with.)
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.
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–
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.
