The Sojourners

Carl_Locher_-_Fishing_cutters_in_the_moonlit_night_-_Google_Art_Project

Carl Locher, “Fishing Cutters in the Moonlit Night,” [Public Domain] Wikipedia

Guided by the glittery night,

the sojourners flee,

sailing by starlight,

looking for their destiny.

 

The sojourners flee

north, south, east, or west–

looking for their destiny,

which constellation offers rest–

 

north, south, east, or west?

Which the most auspicious sky?

Which constellation offers rest.

Which offers them a why?

 

Which the most auspicious sky,

a harbinger of hope?

Which offers them a why?

(Their fate spins in a horoscope.)

 

A harbinger of hope–

and so, off they go–

which offers them a why—

visions on an epic scope.

 

And so, off they go

sailing by starlight,

carried by the current’s flow,

guided by the glittery night.

 

Here is another pantoum, the dVerse form of the month. This is for Anmol’s prompt on geography.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Once There Was a Time

512px-The_Sower_-_painting_by_Van_Gogh

Vincent Van Gogh, “The Sower,” Wikipedia Commons

 

Once there was a time to sow

to scatter seeds upon the ground

to water well and watch them grow

a time when hope was found

 

to scatter seeds upon the ground

to grow stalks of hate that bled

a time when hope was found

and lost among the dead

 

to grow stalks of hate that bled

that banished love and kindness

and lost among the dead

the acts of willful blindness

 

that banished love and kindness?

That can’t be how the story goes.

The acts of willful blindness?

Now’s the time to speak, oppose.

 

That can’t be how the story goes.

Plants seeds, a peaceful dream.

Now’s the time. To speak, oppose

is fine. See how wishes gleam?

 

Plant seeds, a peaceful dream,

to water well and watch them grow

is fine. See how wishes gleam–

once there was a time to sow?

 

We’re writing pantoums this month at dVerse, so here’s another one from me. There’s still time to join us.

Lillian has asked us to use some part of the verse from Ecclesiastes, which is also used in the song, “Turn, Turn, Turn” as a prompt.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Robin Sang the Light

800px-American_Robin_KSC01pp1005

“Seen on KSC grounds, a robin pauses in a Brazilian pepper tree filled with red berries.” NASA, via Wikipedia Commons, Public domain

 

The robin sang the light

“Get up, come play,” said he,

“away the dream-filled night,

up here, you will be free.”

 

“Get up, come play,” said he,

but the mossy limbs were high.

Up here, you will be free.

No, I cannot fly.

 

But the mossy limbs were high

and shadowed in the dawn.

No, I cannot fly,

I stood upon the lawn.

 

And shadowed in the dawn

was nature sweet and wild,

I stood upon the lawn,

I listened, and I smiled.

 

Was nature sweet and wild?

(Away the dream-filled night!)

I listened, and I smiled–

the robin sang the light.

 

Another pantoum for dVerse. Yes, this is what I’m doing instead of all the work I have to do. Don’t judge me till you try it. 🙂 Gina is hosting this forms challenge. She explains the history and how to write one. Come join us!

This pantoum is a revision of the first pantoum I wrote–for one of Jane Dougherty’s challenges.

 

 

 

Horizon–Pantoum

Sunset_on_the_Sea_MET_DT226485

John Frederick Kensett, Sunset on the Sea,” Wikipedia Commons

 

At the horizon, known and unknown meet,

this liminal space between sky and sea

when the sun dips down, and night not complete

where dreams are unleashed and left to dance free–

 

this liminal space between sky and sea,

in this place, past and future meld and dwell,

where dreams are unleashed and left to dance free

we hover here, and fall under its spell.

 

In this place, past and future meld and dwell,

dreams sigh spindrift over the sand. Enthralled,

we hover here, and fall under its spell

as tall ships vanish, beyond shouts and call.

 

What might fate foretell here–our joys and fears

when the sun dips down, and night not complete?

Do we seek, question, wait for what appears

at the horizon? Known and unknown meet.

 

 

Gina is hosting the next dVerse form, the Pantoum.  Her post explains the history and mechanics of the form.

This a re-working of one I wrote about a year ago. This poem was inspired by a post by Frank of A Frank Angle. I borrowed my first line from him. Thanks, Frank!  🙂

 

 

 

 

 

Me: Here, or There?

“Time isn’t circular. . .It’s like a. . .palimpsest.”

“And memories are sometimes in the future.”

–Kate Atkinson, Life after Life

512px-Nocturne_by_James_Abbott_McNeil,_1870-1877

James Abbott McNeil Whistler, “Nocturne,” Public Domain via Wikipedia Commons

 

Looking back, older but not yet done–

then, there, I see myself a young child.

Did past or future end–or has one just begun–

life stories entwined, or is time unreconciled

 

then? There, I see myself a young child

so, I wonder if my path was fated,

life stories entwined? Or is time unreconciled,

to choices immutable and slated–

 

so, I wonder if my path was fated–

did I always marry my high school sweetheart—

choices immutable and slated?

Or did time and roads lead elsewhere for my counterpart?

 

Did I always marry my high school sweetheart?

Was I always the me I see?

Or did time and roads lead elsewhere for my counterpart?

Could it be there’s another world with–or without–me?

 

Was I always the me I see?

Did past or future end, or has one just begun?

Could it be there’s another world with or without me?

I’m looking back—older–but not yet done.

 

Happy New Year! A pantoum for my prompt today on dVerse.

If all goes as planned, the prompt should be live at 3:00 P.M. (EST). Come join us!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Refugees

We ache for our homes in morning light,

we trudge down dim roads, dusty from heat,

there’s sweat and thirst, but worse is the night

thinking of what was–once life was sweet.

 

We trudge down dim roads, dusty from heat,

we’re tired and sad, shed tears for loss,

thinking of what was–once life was sweet,

we journey on, our old lives we toss.

 

We’re tired and sad, shed tears for loss

we dream of new lives, dreams within dreams.

we journey on, our old lives we toss

overboard goes old, afar hope gleams.

 

We dream of new lives, dreams within dreams–

think in America we’ll be free.

Overboard goes old, afar hope gleams–

land of the free, perhaps, we’ll see.

 

So long the journey, who knows the end?

there’s sweat and thirst, but worse is the night

finding no welcome, finding no friends–

we ache for our homes in morning light.

Моисей_Слепян_Этюд_детей_беженцев_1915-16_гг.

Majsiej Sliapian [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

Jilly has asked us to write a poem using a repetitive form for dVerse. This is a pantoum.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When the Stars were Bright

When the Stars were Bright

He wooed her when the stars were bright,

she liked the way he smiled at her.

He kissed her first one moonlit night–

she thought, “he is my future.”

 

She liked the way he smiled at her,

not knowing then his smiles would fade.

She thought, “he is my future,”

forgetting daylight darkens to evening shade.

 

Not knowing then his smiles would fade

when hardship came in winter cold,

forgetting daylight darkens to evening shade

and so, her youthful dreams remained untold.

 

When hardship came in winter cold,

he packed a bag and sailed away,

and so, her youthful dreams remained untold

to him, but she was glad he had not stayed.

 

He packed a bag and sailed away.

She remembered the things she had not said

to him, but she was glad he had not stayed,

caressing her belly as she lay on their bed.

 

He kissed her first one moonlit night

(she remembered it so well.)

He wooed her when the stars were bright–

to their babe, that’s all the story she’d tell.

 

Joseph_Noel_Paton_Hesperus

Joseph Noel Paton, “Hesperus, the Evening Star, Sacred to Lovers,” 1857 [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

This is for dVerse. Björn asked us to write a poetic narrative. Jane and Kerfe have me thinking of pantoums.

I wrote this while listening to the Kavanaugh hearings. . .it started out much darker. . .

 

 

 

 

 

The Dance of Space, NaPoWriMo, Day 22

Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt asks us to “take one of the following statements of something impossible, and then write a poem in which the impossible thing happens. I chose this one:

The stars cannot rearrange themselves in the sky.

 

Somewhere in space, stars always sing,

and in a distance place, they also dance,

in quadrille or waltz, they sway and swing,

they arrange themselves, but not by chance.

 

And in a distant place, they also dance,

sometimes, a stellar pas de deux–

they arrange themselves, but not by chance–

of course, they do, well, wouldn’t you?

 

Sometimes, a stellar pas de deux

to the carillon of time’s dawn

of course, they do, well, wouldn’t you—

move with joy, before it’s gone?

 

To the carillon of time’s dawn

in quadrille or waltz, they sway and swing,

move with joy before it’s gone—

somewhere in space, stars always sing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“However, what it is really exciting about NGC 1097 is that it is not wandering alone through space. It has two small galaxy companions, which dance “the dance of stars and the dance of space” like the gracious dancer of the famous poem The Dancer by Khalil Gibran.”

Credit: ESA/Hubble & NASA. Acknowledgement: E. Sturdivant

 

Horizons: NaPoWriMo, Day 5

This pantoum is inspired by a post by Frank of A Frank Angle. I borrowed my first line from him. Thanks, Frank!

 

At the horizon, known and unknown meet,

this liminal space between sky and sea

when the sun dips down, and night not complete

where dreams are unfettered and left to dance free–

 

this liminal space between sky and sea,

in this place, future and past together dwell,

while explorers and dreamers look here with uncertainty,

they still seek this place–and fall under its spell.

 

In this place, future and past together dwell,

some think deep thoughts here, some none at all,

they still seek this place—and fall under its spell

as they watch ships vanish, beyond shouts and call.

 

Can we know what fate foretells here–

when the sun dips down, and night not complete?

Do we fear, question, or wait for what appears?

Certain only, at the horizon, known and unknown meet.

John Frederick Kensett, “Sunset on the Sea,” [CC0], via Wikimedia Commons

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’m off prompt for NaPoWriMo.  I’m also linking this to dVerse Open Link Night.

 

Song of Midnight Light

It’s still a bit of vacation week. I was going to take a nap, but I wrote this pantoum instead. This is  for Secret Keeper’s Weekly Writing Prompt. The prompt words are:

Circle/Dream/Time/Arm/Phase

 

From birth to death and round again

through time and space, water and air

seeds to flowers, mice and men

cycles of love and those of despair

 

Through time and space, water and air

the moon journeys through the night

cycles of love and those of despair

she hums the song of midnight light

 

The moon journeys through the night

drifting, shimmering on a star-crossed slope

she hums the song of midnight light

dreamtime messages of floating hope

 

Drifting, shimmering on a star-crossed slope

beyond outstretched arms in shadowed phases

dreamtime messages of floating hope

rising high these prayerful phrases

 

until perhaps we cease to be

seeds to flowers, mice and men

human creatures, such as we

(circling) from birth to death and round again

 

Johan_Barthold_Jongkind_-_View_on_Overschie_in_Moonlight_-_Google_Art_Project

Johan Jongkind, “View on Overschie in Moonlight,” [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons