Pleiades

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The Pleiades, an open cluster consisting of approximately 3,000 stars at a distance of 400 light-years (120 parsecs) from Earth in the constellation of Taurus. It is also known as ‘The Seven Sisters’, or the astronomical designations NGC 1432/35 and M45. NASA, ESA, AURA/Caltech, Palomar ObservatoryThe science team consists of: D. Soderblom and E. Nelan (STScI), F. Benedict and B. Arthur (U. Texas), and B. Jones (Lick Obs.) [Public domain]

He’s breathless

at the sight of them,

all seven

beautiful.

Heedless of their desires,

only knows his own.

 

A god’s touch–

they’re doves. Now weightless,

flying high

and higher

through the moon’s shimmer, and then,

too, they glimmer.

 

Ageless, they

wander, star-lighted,

twinkling and

traveling

through the skies. Are they at peace?

Immortal sisters

 

still pursued

but untouchable,

in stellar

grace they sail

an indigo timeless sea

forever and on.

 

For Laura’s dVerse prompt, “less is more. . .”  She gave us a list of words. I chose breathless, weightless, ageless, and I added timeless. This is a shadorma sequence. I’m also linking it to Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday prompt. 

 

 

 

 

The Lesson

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I look at the painting. Is it a lesson about hubris? Or that children must make their own mistakes? All I see is father and son, horror and grief.

 

and now your feathers

nicked and torn, you soared too close

bewitched by the sun

 

A haibun quadrille (a poem of 44 words) for dVerse, where De has asked us to use the word “nick.” And also, for Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday, using synonyms for enchant and fly.

Odysseus Under the Moon: To Wanderers, A Ghazal

Winslow_Homer_-_Eastern_Point_Light_-_Google_Art_Project

Winslow Homer, “Eastern Point Light”

 

Over star-glimmered waves, we journeyed and sailed under the moon.

There we bemoaned our fate, still sailing—railed under the moon.

 

We see the fork-tongued serpent, slither-scaled–

no siren, silver-voiced with hair unveiled under the moon.

 

From the towering giant, one-eyed, we quailed,

but when blinded he was curtailed under the moon.

 

On blood-wine seas, the winds caught and prevailed–

yet what of the gods, we flattered, yet failed, under the moon?

 

What lands should we conquer? If heroes, we’re hailed.

What tales of those places to you we’d regale under the moon?

 

Do we return to love, or to marriages failed?

My own wife, what of her travails under the moon?

 

Too far, too soon, the poet sleeps unassailed

to the gentle rhythm of the waves, inhales, exhales, under the moon

 

A re-worked ghazal for dVerse.

 

 

The Ballad of Orpheus and Eurydice, NaPoWriMo

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Odilon Redon, “Orpheus,”

 

“It has been said that the myth is a public dream, dreams are private myths.”

–Mary Zimmermann, Metamorphoses

 

Busking, I play my guitar

mostly by day,

sometimes under the stars

(their music lovelier than ours).

My songs are stunning, striking riffs,

god-blessed, my parents’ gift

to shift a mood–

when I sing my songs

the birds and trees dance along,

while men and women weep

and want to sweep

away the night,

keeping love alight.

 

And so, on this I survived

till my own love came to me.

In my joy, my music soared

as if on Pegasus-winged chords–

and I dreamt all manner of lovely things.

We married, and then one day

she journeyed far by urban subway,

vanishing deep underground

where she would not be found.

 

I wandered for days and night

in corridors

far below the banks and stores,

strumming the strings while I walked

until a fellow said, “Come, we’ll talk.”

He said a bloke as talented as me

shouldn’t be without his love, his muse–

but, well, let’s see what she’ll choose.

 

On the appointed day,

I stood beneath the street

(where she had agreed to meet).

She told me that with me

she had been in love,

but she was tired—sick of

living on song and air,

really it wasn’t fair,

it was no life–

she was dying as my wife.

So, she went down the stairs–

found work with City Transportation–

for her, a cause for celebration.

 

“Now, I’ve made my declaration. Go,” she said.

“Don’t look back, pretend I’m dead.”

 

You, of course, know the tale

I looked, I failed my darling wife

who’s disappeared behind a veil

of mystery and confusing trails.

I still hope that she’ll return.

Till then, I yearn,

I ride the subway cars,

looking for her, undeterred,

I find her face among the stars,

go out to sing about our story,

(now the most popular

in my repertory).

Then people sigh and cry

while I strum and sing,

and wonder why.

 

The prompt for Day 24 of NaPoWriMo is write a poem inspired by a reference book. The Encyclopaedia Britannica says Orpheus had “superhuman musical skills.” He was said to be the son of the Muse Calliope (poetry) and Apollo, who also had musical skills, and who gave him his first lyre. His “singing and playing were so beautiful that animals and even trees and rocks moved about him in dance.”

On dVerse, Anmol has asked us to reimagine a myth. I really wanted to use this painting that I saw on Jane Dougherty’s post the other day.

 

 

 

 

Open the Star: Magnetic Poetry

Open the Star

 

A child, a girl, explores,

lingering with the red star.

(Open it.)

It will fool the dark cloud

and no one need live a life

bleeding, dirty, and sad.

But this then—

you must listen to

voices throb in ocean rhythms,

secrets of time and universe make magic.

Go and wake.

Let your heart breeze

with peace.

 

 

 

 

A bit of surrealism? A myth from the Oracle?

Icarus 2–Quadrille

He rises–

filled with wonder,

on wax wings he flies

high and higher

closer to the flaming fire

spurred towards the sun

(heart’s desire)

too late, stunned,

aware of his blunder

he cries–

no longer inspired–

“Father, forgive me.”

and falls to the sea

 

Peter Paul Rubens [Public domain], “Fall of Icarus,” via Wikimedia Commons

This is a Quadrille for dVerse. De “Whimsygizmo” has asked us to use the word “fire.”

The Pleiades: Tanka

This tanka is for Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday. Colleen asked us to use synonyms for myth and write

 

In the before time

seven sisters soared skyward

sailing the night sea

in my dreams, I sail with them,

creating my own stories

 

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By NASA, ESA, AURA/Caltech, Palomar Observatory, “The Pleiades,” [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

 

 

 

 

Storm Be Done–Quadrille

The angry god in petulant fury

raised his triton high—

soon scorched-ash clouds filled the sky,

covering the moon.

The storm raged, the sea roiled,

thunder echoed,

lightning flashed,

till Aurora said “enough, be done!”

And opened a door

to let in the sun.

 

John_Constable_-_Stormy_Sea,_Brighton_-_Google_Art_Project

John Constable, Stormy Sea, Brighton,” [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

This is a quadrille for dVerse. The prompt was storm.

Yesterday, Kerfe, Jane, and I in a bit of mysterious blog sisterhood and synchronicity all wrote about doors (with a bit of help from Emily Dickinson). I decided to play with the idea some more.

 

 

 

Naiad

 

 

 

Her soul’s secret song

shimmers, she shares it gently

leads him, calls to him

from the river, where brave rush,

rave, or walk to inner light

 

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John William Waterhouse, “Naiad” [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

This is for Colleen Chesebro’s Weekly Poetry Challenge. The prompt words were lead and share. I’ve also used Secret Keeper’s words for this week: BRAVE | RUSH | RAVE | WALK | INNER