Almost an Afterthought

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Almost an afterthought—

the breeze dances,

leaving a perfume of if

and airborne secrets

sailing into the night

 

~as the fire-sky lingers~

 

you listen for ghosts’ laughter

as they fly through broken coffee clouds–

their voices in the flowers and trees–

and with fevered embrace

they (and you) remember the rhythm of time

 

 

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I collaborated with the Oracle to create this puente. I remembered to include a screenshot this time, in case anyone wants to see the tiles. 😉

Listening, Watching, Hoping

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The world is sad and broken,

clouds of smoke rising

 

and the voices of trees lost.

(Say not forever.)

 

Still I listen for the secret rhythm

of stars and moon

 

and watch the sun rise

brilliant fire in the sky

 

lighting our days,

reminding us of if and when

 

the universe is born and dies,

again and again–

 

and yet, the flowers bloom in spring

(until they don’t)

 

and their perfume rises

in morning’s smile.

 

My collaboration with the magnetic poetry Oracle. She always seems to know what is and what might be.

 

 

Wandering

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Lesser Ury, London in Fog, 1926

 

You wander, winter spirits,

in air dusk-dark,

blooms now covered by brown wind-rustle

as I walk, listening to the river

carrying secrets

 

~and poetry of if and why~

 

flows in cycles with the moon–

our world, a song rooted in hope

burning bright,

following stars to the dawn,

rising in birdsong of spring

 

Yesterday was dreary—it looked like twilight all day long, and this morning it’s foggy, and I can’t get myself to do much of anything. I used the nature set from the Oracle this time, and we collaborated on this Puente.

 

The Almost Was

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Winslow Homer, Eastern Point Light

 

She almost remembers sailing over open seas,

a symphony of waves and skies, singing

of a universe of tomorrows,

with the wind whispering when—

she almost remembers

though it wasn’t her life

 

~and if her heart wonders~

 

and wanders through the never was,

she imagines by his bed a picture

of past celebrations, and lingering kisses,

embraces, poetry in the night–

and time, an open window

of what might have been

 

A collaborative poem with the Oracle.

Can you Blame Me?

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Moon language drifts down from the sky–

a hum, fierce and gentle

known to all who listen—

shhhhhh!—

hear the glow as it falls

lingering on treetops and river surfaces,

 

~poetry of the night~

 

vanishes as I wake

to celebrate flowering cloud-breath,

morning magic flitters in, a bird-winged song,

filling the day with possibility, and if

I smile as the universe blushes,

can you blame me?

 

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A puente from my collaboration with Oracle—I accidentally clicked out of the site, then something else came up. . .and well, it’s one of those days. Still, each day begins with promise and possibility.

 

There is Always Magic: A Birthday Poem for Myself

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Breathe away sad rhythms,

wake to morning joy—

go celebrate life’s dazzling color

 

(eat cake)

 

Listen to the poetry of the stars kissing the night sky

and remember to embrace the lingering blue

as the clouds dance in brilliant-red fire–

 

explore time’s window and the universe’s ifs

but live your heart—

there is always magic

 

(the ghosts of your ancestors smile).

 

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The Oracle gave me this poem for my birthday.  I forgot to take a screen shot of the final version of the tiles, and we collaborated a bit, but she did tell me to eat cake.

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The Poetry of If

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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.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dancing, Dazzling, If

Irregular Galaxy NGC 4485

“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

 

 

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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 Sleep Shadows Said

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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.