Moon Spirits, NaPoWriMo

Johann_Georg_Haeselich_-_Holsteinischer_See,_Mondschein_(1847)

Johann Georg Haeselich (1806-1894)
Holstein Sea – Moonlight

 

In the dawning of owl-light

when the bell-voiced flowers

croon goodnight,

and the tide-looped river

mirror-shines still-bright—

the spirits gather, awakened

by the silver feathered light.

 

Moon-blown they dance

tickled by her rays (the sight!)

to make a vagary,

and convened in delight,

to ring with dark-vowelled voices

singing peace upon the night.

 

Day 16 of NaPoWriMo is to write a list poem. It seems like I’ve done a few lists already, so I’m following the dVerse prompt today instead. Laura asks us to write a poem “using at least FOUR of the hyphenated compound words” from the list of words taken from the works of Dylan Thomas. I’ve done this and added some of my own.

Additionally, in a tweet, Dale Rogerson (who blogs at A Dalectable Life) challenged me to use the word “vagaries.” I used the singular form, vagary, discovering that an old meaning of “to make a vagary,” was to make a wandering journey.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sun and Storms, NaPoWriMo

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Monday Morning Musings:

“Presentiment – is that long Shadow – on the Lawn –
Indicative that Suns go down –

The Notice to the startled Grass

That Darkness – is about to pass –“

–Emily Dickinson A brief analysis here.

“Oh, how this spring of love resembleth, The uncertain glory of an April day,

Which now shows all beauty of the Sun, And by and by a cloud takes all away”

–William Shakespeare, The Two Gentlemen of Verona, Act I Scene 3

 

Startled? Yes, I’ll say.

Startled awake as the cell phone plays

keening beeps, an alert. I’m dazed

read, “Tornado Warning, Take Shelter.”

 

Did you see them?

The words on the screen?

Not a drill, no they mean

hurry now, no time to grab all the things,

no time for caffeine, keys, or rings

 

I’m roused,

my body tired, but fired

 

I wake my husband, carry phone and one cat

down to the basement, there we sat

on a blanket by the stairs,

litter boxes nearby, but no chairs,

with bare feet, in PJs and tank shirt

waiting, (while the cats pee) but unhurt

 

by the storm. The radio announcer says,

this system’s killed people, he acknowledges

in the south, and I’m glad I heard this after

the all-clear, or my fear would have been greater.

 

(Were my clogged ears, a presentiment

of pressure dropping,

hmmm. . .are they’re popping?)

 

I think the rain is stopping

(at least for now).

and the birds are singing sweet and strong

glorious in their morning songs

telling the world that they are here,

announcing for now that all is clear.

 

***

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Looking out after the early morning storm

I think of this past week in April

uncertain glory, each day

it seems, from bright to grey

shadows, sun, storms, each give way.

We went with friends into the city

We go on the train

(the forecast rain)

But when we arrived, the sky was bright

and the sun shone with April light

on flowers pink, white, yellow–

and mellow the temperature and breeze

softly stirring trees.

 

We sat outside, drank wine, ate cheese

feeling fine, and at ease,

wanting to hold this moment—please—

but we went

as the sky changed then–

and April rain fell again.

 

In more shadows and light,

we played with puppies, such a sight,

doggy kisses and wrestling moves

hard to resist, and it just proves

the bonds between animals,

the bonds between us and them

Once again

we’re home

more sun, more clouds,

watching movies of zombies and spies,

surprises and lies,

in both we see people pretending to be some other

and we see others seeing what they want to see.

 

And I see presentiment—the long shadow–

but hope the clouds will pass,

we’ll come to our senses

before we suffer the consequences—

But for now, coffee, cats,

and later wine,

to sleep later,

perchance to dream—

of a beginning, not an end,

of love and caring and sharing

hope of this world—to mend.

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Today’s prompt, Day 15, is “to write your own dramatic monologue.”  I’m not sure that I’ve done that, but my Monday Musings are always sort of an internal monologue. . . The best I can do, since I’ve been awake since the tornado alert went off around 3:20 this morning.

Sorry, we haven’t been out to the movies in a few weeks, but we did watch two movies on Netflix. The Angel, trailer here, an Israeli-American film based on a true story of a spy. It was an interesting story,good, but not great.  And we saw Cargo, (trailer here)  an Australian zombie film–but wait, it’s not all that gory. It has a message about family, community, cross-cultural awareness, taking care of the earth, AND it has Martin Freeman.  Again, not the greatest movie ever, but enjoyable, and I liked it.

I also read a spy book, American Spy by Lauren Wilkinson. Excellent. Here’s a review.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Nightmare, NaPoWriMo

Edvard_Munch_-_The_Scream_-_Google_Art_Project

The Scream,” by Edvard Munch. [Public Domain] “This version, executed in 1910 in tempera on cardboard, was stolen from the Munch Museum in 2004, and recovered in 2006.” Wikipedia.

Blood, here sprayed

like a scream.

 

And whispers,

frantic tongues

 

beneath the whys

of language.

 

Scrabbling, urging tongues

you recall, feverish,

 

you want–

some other time—

 

a when

before this dream—

 

you can almost see

the blush of the before,

 

and you open your mouth

but there’s no sound

 

(scream, no scream)

 

only the cackling around you

and you wonder

 

(What if the nightmare

never ends?)

 

 

Today’s prompt for Day 13 of NaPoWriMo is to write a poem about something spooky. I briefly consulted the Oracle early this morning, and she gave me some words and tips for this poem. But I know this isn’t my real message. I’ll consult her again later.