Shadows Break for Spring

And in the after of dreams
do you whisper why,
as purple shadows hover,
drift, shift, slide, and sigh?
Death-doused year passes,
robins come again, pinked dawn
sings—hope comes, hands clasped

we embrace, sun’s soft shimmer
attracts gathered gulls,
to hear mockingbird perform–
warbles and chatter.
Cruelty of spring
comes in remembrance–lives lost—
but still—daffodils.

For dVerse, Grace has asked us to write a seguidilla.

“The Seguidilla is:
• stanzaic, written in any number of 2 part septets. (7 lines)
• syllabic, 7-5-7-5 : 5-7-5 per line. There is a slight pause between L4 and L5 suggesting L4 should be end-stopped.
• rhymed by assonance xAxABxB or xAxABAB. x being unrhymed. True rhyme is generally not used.
• composed with a volta or change in thought between L4 and L5.
• sometimes serves as a conclusion for another verse.”

Yesterday was the anniversary of the declaration of the current pandemic. Last April my mom died of Covid, the same week one of our cats died. But I’m feeling hope in the air with vaccinations and spring weather. Yesterday, our first daffodil of the season bloomed. This morning, I heard a mockingbird putting on quite a concert.

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!

In Flight

IMG_2791

Vulture in flight. Red Bank Battlefield, May 24, 2019.

 

Sometimes we dream of birds, in flight, in flight,

they soar far past the sun, in flight, in flight.

 

Follow hawk or geese—the height, the height–

there see towering clouds, in flight, in flight.

 

What if they were we, soaring out of sight, the sight–

your wing brushes my breast, in flight in flight.

 

We fly past stars and moon, the light, the light!

Our spirits dance at night, in flight, in flight.

 

We’re drunk on moonbeams, a rite, a rite

of dream-world gods, in flight, in flight.

 

Do you question this? Not quite, not quite?

Night visions with stars, in flight, in flight?

 

But I, writer of dreams, I write, I write

and dream of birds, in flight, in flight.

 

I took a poetry break from my writing on sexual harassment (because really, I need a break). This is a ghazal for dVerse.  It’s a bit different from others I’ve written. For my “signature couplet” I’ve used writer. My birth last name is Schreiber, which means scribe or writer. I took my first line “sometimes we dream of birds” from Sarah Connor’s Eventide story/novel/epic. Thanks, Sarah!

 

 

 

 

 

As Linnets Take Wing

(c) Paintings Collection; Supplied by The Public Catalogue Foundation

Albert Zimmermann, Bodensee (Lake Constance), Public Domain, Wikipedia

 

 “There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,

And evening full of the linnet’s wings.”

–W.B. Yeats, “The Lake Isle of Innisfree”

 

At the glimmering lake the birds still sing,

though you’ve been gone for many a year,

now, I watch as linnets take wing.

 

Once I longed to wear your ring–

before things changed, I sought you here,

at the glimmering lake the birds still sing,

 

You promised sun, moon, and everything,

before bad times came and settled near,

then I watched as linnets took wing.

 

I realize now, I was just a fling–

that thought is now as clear

as the glimmering lake where birds still sing

 

where at my side, our baby’d cling

without a father. She brought me cheer–

as I watched the linnets take wing

 

I dreamt I was a queen and you my king,

before you sailed far from my pier

at the glimmering lake, the birds still sing,

And I—I watch the linnets take wing.

 

For the next month, we’re writing villanelles at dVerse, under Sarah’s capable direction. I’ve only written a couple of these, so I’m tiptoeing into this challenge by revising one I wrote for Sarah’s very first dVerse prompt! See how things come full circle in poetry land? Here’s the link to the original version. It was written during last year’s NaPoWriMo, and this year’s is coming up.