Moon Song Blooms

Morning Moon with Gulls, Delaware River at Red Bank Battlefield ©️Merril D. Smith, 2021

Moon song drifts,
over pink-glowed sea.
Gulls gather
to hear the
tune and circle-dance, catching
currents, sing along

with dawn moon’s
farewell. Remember
me tonight-

her refrain
floats, feather-white, and fleeting,
falls to warming earth

is planted
as sparkling star-gulls
flock to light,
and geese pair,
delight to share longer days,
and moon-song blooms white.

For dVerse Open Link Night where Linda is hosting. This is a shadorma sequence that I’m also linking to Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday challenge. I said about the top photo that the gulls in the picture look liked stars, and Colleen called them “star-gulls.” Originally, I was going to share a diatelle I wrote about the Hindenburg, which Linda mentioned on the dVerse prompt. However, I can’t ignore it was a Nazi propaganda ship, and the poem got very dark, and I feel more like celebrating spring today. Our crocuses are starting to bloom!

Wishes in the Snow: Ekphrastic Challenge

For Paul Brookes Special January-February Ekphrastic Challenge January 7- February 6. This is for February 3, and my poem is inspired by the three works below.

Wishes in the Snow

We ran from the soldiers, out into the snow,
into the birch forest, there by the trees,
where blood bloomed like flowers, red in the snow—
and I wondered if we’d be caught first–or freeze.

We ran from the soldiers, out into the snow–
Manya whispered stories of when women were fish,
and as the cold wind continued to blow,
she told of sea-blue wonders and a come-true wish

of times and people long ago—
before the snow.

We ran from the soldiers, out into the snow,
and I wished for roses, sunshine, birds, sheep,
but we were here, and where would we go?
Where would we find food, a warm place to sleep?

We ran from the soldiers, out into the snow,
and I dreamed of butterflies, apples, the song
of thrush and soft owl hoots, the way a river flows
in spring, and fish swim in it all along

the way to the sea,
where maybe we could be—

but we’ve run so far, out into the snow,
now Manya says, “Look, there’s a house ahead,”
inside, no people, only gifts bestowed–
a sea-scene painted, a rose, and a loaf of bread.

I’m also linking this to dVerse, where Björn asked us to write about war. It’s another work in progress. I have a story in my head about these people in this poem, but I want to leave it open to interpretation.

Why (whisper)

Odilon Redon, Orpheus

Why whisper
life is all about blood
and fiddlers, the beat
of sea symphony rising here or there—
I can recall,
my storm-ached chants— let me

(kiss your lips)

and if–

in some misty when, death has no crushing arm, listen
(for me)–
watch us together, as the moon drips diamonds,
lighting the after-time shadows,
and love sings, summer-pink through our dreams.

Today’s message from the Oracle. She gave me nearly every word.

Golden Apples


Hesperides Dance Around the Golden Tree


I dreamt of golden apples

that fell fragrant from the sun

to land on earth shadow-dappled–

beyond, I heard a river run

and wandered to its grassy bank

where songbirds flocked and flew

to swoop at shining, rainbow fish. I drank

the pure, clear water—well, wouldn’t you?

For this was a calm and peaceful place–

where bees droned and danced a pirouette

in rhythmic waves, almost embraced–

I wondered if they loved or faced regret

at the days that pass all too soon,

when love and loved ones disappear–

yet silver apples of the moon

shine on, in dreams, golden apples appear.


This is for dVerse Open Link Night, where Grace is hosting, and also for the Tuesday dVerse Poetics prompt, where Anmol asked us to write about apples. Jane, I managed to get the silver apples in, too. 🙂














My Theory, This

Odilon_Redon_-_Der_Wagen_des_Apolls (1)


Once we thought

a golden chariot brought

the sun to move around the earth,


once we saw only what could be seen—

except the spirits in-between

here and there, birthed


in our imaginations,

as we created causation

to explain our earth.


Once, did dragons breath fire

until they were forced to retire?

Any theory can be brought forth


for haters and deniers,

but crisscross the wires,

spread kindness and mirth.


My theory this—

not to be dismissed

through rotations of the earth–


believe in facts, the real,

but sense earth’s magic, the ideal.


This poem is for my theory prompt on dVerse. Join us in poetic theorizing!

The Cruelest Month: Tanka, NaPoWriMo, Day 4

To Persephone

daffodils pay bright homage,

echoing the sun,

the golden rays breed passion,

love and hate rise up


white buds burst open,

spring no longer a maiden

swells with fruitfulness

till her petals wilt and fall

covering the blood-soaked ground.


IMG_8456 2


napo2018button2.pngThis double tanka is for Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday, using synonyms for grow and honor. This is also for NaNoWriMo. This may or may not fit the prompt.