But At Last We Ask: Covid Poetry

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But at last we ask

in dreams,

as days fast-wane–

 

we ask

what we must recall

of sun on rocks,

 

and sprays of petals pink

against an impossible blue–

we ache–asking

 

does the moon hum

of if

or never?

 

We ask without language

for more words;

we ask to start over.

 

The Oracle knows what is going on around us. I decided to also incorporate the “More Words” “Start Over” message at the bottom of the magnetic poetry screen. The photo was taken last April.

Surfacing

Guillermo_Gómez_Gil_-_Salida_de_la_luna

Guillermo_Gómez_Gil_-_Salida_de_la_luna

 

I hear gorgeous music

in this sky of purple-pink–

it whispers a symphony of when

and if

 

and after

 

I go,

the sea will still sing

of blue moons

and coming storms

 

screaming in silver spray–

 

while beneath,

shadows swim

in the cool grey water

together, soaring,

 

surfacing

 

to taste the wind

on their tongues

and feel the light of distant stars

shimmering through the mist of time.

 

My Saturday morning collaboration with the Magnetic Poetry Oracle. This started as a puente, but then it kept going. Sometimes the Oracle has more to say.

 

Once and for Now

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The only tree on the block in bloom, Walnut Street, Philadelphia.

 

Once the moon hummed

in a dazzling glow

and we who wanted–

and longed for if–

walked through now

listening to our own hearts

beating

 

~in time~

 

death comes

but now

beneath sweet budding branches,

as pink and red blooms burst open,

the music of life

plays a symphony,

luscious and sweet

 

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The Oracle gave me this puente today. It’s been a crazy week. The world still seems to be tilting while we’re holding on. I thought we were in lock down today, but it was a false alarm.

I apologize for the delay in reading posts. I’m going to take the opportunity to get some errands done today while I still can, but I’ll be catching up on reading this weekend.

The Heart of Today

 

Away the bitterness of aching hearts,

the shadowed mist of fears

 

that cycle with brown and blossom

with dreams of honey-gold

 

as you watch the moon glow silver after spring storms

gust with purple fury

 

and grey clouds sail across the indigo night sea

till the sun rises—

 

now you can almost smell the scent of peaches

in her rays, hear the tinkling bell-voices of jonquils

 

sensing if. . .breathing,

beating in the heart of today.

 

Today’s message from the Oracle. The world is very scary now and filled with hate and ignorance, but at least there are spring flowers that rise predictably from bulbs year after year.

 

 

 

Stars Falling

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Vincent van Gogh – Starry Night on the Rhone, 1888

 

Beneath a spray of tiny diamonds

the wind whispers a dream–

a poem murmured,

of a path through cloud blossoms

in the universe’s garden–

time lingers there

 

~in secret rhythms~

 

shadows dance here

under the honeyed moon

and the air carries the scent of if,

like the air before a storm,

as I wake, remembering

stars falling in fragrant petals

 

A puente from a collaboration with the Oracle. Most of the words came from one set of tiles, with a few from another set. I was dreaming poetry the other night–it wasn’t this–but the Oracle knows. . .

From There to Here

Ghost of Cassiopeia, NASA

“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)

 

Beneath the brown,

a seed grows green,

see?

 

Beneath the frost,

nature murmurs a song,

listen

 

as after the rain,

spring sings of time

in a fall of pink petals

 

and ghosts sail

through a universe

of if

 

with star rhythms

they dazzle—

and we embrace the fire

 

from a champagne cloud,

remembering

like a night kiss,

 

the brilliance of eternity

lingering

in our blood.

 

I took words from three sets of tiles, and the Oracle and I collaborated on this poem. Mostly her, I just added the articles and such. I think the link is still open for Open Link Night on dVerse, where Lillian is hosting from her vacation retreat, so I’m linking this there.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lingering

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

Light sings over the sea

as the moon rises,

a silver coin floating in a purple sky

full of secrets,

she sails into the morning

 

~remembering~

 

joy, we wake,

open the window to if,

listening for that sea song

that lingers like a laugh

in the dark.

 

Another collaborative puente from the Oracle.  The first line came from one set of tiles, and the rest came from another set. I remembered this painting after I wrote the poem (in case anyone is wondering). 😉

 

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.

 

 

 

 

Song Cycle

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Caspar David Friedrich, The Morning

 

Stroll through soft cloud blossoms

cold rain and light

joined in poetry, nature’s songs

carrying rhythm from the deep

of ancient and always,

 

~climbing with the sun~

 

I wander,

linger with spirits the color of dusk

and if I sing of if,

sing with me in harmony,

following the moon.

 

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Caspar David Friedrich, The Evening

 

I think the Oracle knew that I needed a break yesterday. Even though I tried every set of tiles, she would not give me a message. She finally decided I was ready late in the day, when I started this, but then I got interrupted by a phone call. Here’s the puente–it’s mostly her, but there’s a bit of collaboration. I chose the paintings afterwards.

Wandering

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In this sanctuary here

I wander, take quiet breaths

as squirrels rustle

in harmony with wind and water,

and if I feel the storm coming—

 

~there’s a soft shine in the distance~

 

as we stroll, night lights

in a world of when, its own poetry

where spirits watch over us

in the cold night

and if they feel the storm coming—

 

still, there the light shines soft in the distance.

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I collaborated with the Oracle for this variation on a Puente. (Yes, that’s what I’m going to call it.)  I was thinking of taking a walk in the park this moring, but the rain is pounding on my windows right now.