Almost an Afterthought

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Almost an afterthought—

the breeze dances,

leaving a perfume of if

and airborne secrets

sailing into the night

 

~as the fire-sky lingers~

 

you listen for ghosts’ laughter

as they fly through broken coffee clouds–

their voices in the flowers and trees–

and with fevered embrace

they (and you) remember the rhythm of time

 

 

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I collaborated with the Oracle to create this puente. I remembered to include a screenshot this time, in case anyone wants to see the tiles. 😉

Wandering

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Lesser Ury, London in Fog, 1926

 

You wander, winter spirits,

in air dusk-dark,

blooms now covered by brown wind-rustle

as I walk, listening to the river

carrying secrets

 

~and poetry of if and why~

 

flows in cycles with the moon–

our world, a song rooted in hope

burning bright,

following stars to the dawn,

rising in birdsong of spring

 

Yesterday was dreary—it looked like twilight all day long, and this morning it’s foggy, and I can’t get myself to do much of anything. I used the nature set from the Oracle this time, and we collaborated on this Puente.

 

The Almost Was

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Winslow Homer, Eastern Point Light

 

She almost remembers sailing over open seas,

a symphony of waves and skies, singing

of a universe of tomorrows,

with the wind whispering when—

she almost remembers

though it wasn’t her life

 

~and if her heart wonders~

 

and wanders through the never was,

she imagines by his bed a picture

of past celebrations, and lingering kisses,

embraces, poetry in the night–

and time, an open window

of what might have been

 

A collaborative poem with the Oracle.

Can you Blame Me?

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Moon language drifts down from the sky–

a hum, fierce and gentle

known to all who listen—

shhhhhh!—

hear the glow as it falls

lingering on treetops and river surfaces,

 

~poetry of the night~

 

vanishes as I wake

to celebrate flowering cloud-breath,

morning magic flitters in, a bird-winged song,

filling the day with possibility, and if

I smile as the universe blushes,

can you blame me?

 

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A puente from my collaboration with Oracle—I accidentally clicked out of the site, then something else came up. . .and well, it’s one of those days. Still, each day begins with promise and possibility.

 

The Poetry of If

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Franz Marc, Dreaming Horse

 

Blue magic perfumes the night

(and ghosts are almost here)

in my heart, embracing

haunting, breathing secrets

of eternity

 

~and the universe~

 

throbs and dazzles–

there a star dances,

and voices wake

laughter, joy–

the poetry of if

 

A collaborative poem with the Oracle. She seems to be fond of the Puente form.  I think the blue horses must dream blue magic.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dancing, Dazzling, If

Irregular Galaxy NGC 4485

“The irregular galaxy NGC 4485 shows all the signs of having been involved in a hit-and-run accident with a bypassing galaxy. Rather than destroying the galaxy, the chance encounter is spawning a new generation of stars, and presumably planets.” Credit: NASA, ESA; acknowledgment: T. Roberts (Durham University, UK), D. Calzetti (University of Massachusetts) and the LEGUS Team, R. Tully (University of Hawaii) and R. Chandar (University of Toledo)

 

After the secrets dance

from blushing clouds

and with wild magic

(like long kisses)

wake

 

~an eternity of ifs~

 

till you return,

and beneath the honeyed sea-spray

where diamond drops shine in the light

we embrace again and again

remembering this dazzling life

 

~and yet~

 

here with fevered almosts

ghosts surround us,

haunting in soft color

firing hearts and voices,

to picture never and always

 

 

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Ilya Repin, “What Freedom”

 

The magnetic poetry Oracle and I collaborated on this double puente. So, that’s probably not a form, but I don’t argue with the Oracle.

The Sleep Shadows Said

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Moonrise over a South Jersey field, November.

 

The sleep shadows said

live life as a moon rising through the mist

with dreams raining from her

in honeyed-diamond language

shining with ifs.

 

~So, you recall the sweet luscious beat~

 

as we love and ache

and watch men lie and shoot.

Yet still the sky sings in light-music of purple-pink,

and it floats on our tongues

as the wind whispers why?

 

Another puente from the Oracle. It seems she knows the world is an especially confusing place these days. (And also that I had some very strange dreams just before waking today.) I didn’t take a screen shot because I planned to come back to the tiles. I thought I emailed the poem to myself, but it vanished. Mysterious world. Here’s the link to the Magnetic Poetry Oracle. 

I’m linking this to dVerse’s Open Link Night, which Lillian is hosting, and I’m getting in just before it closes.

 

Star Travelers

 

Galactic Cherry Blossom

The galaxy NGC 1156 resembles a delicate cherry blossom tree flowering in springtime in this Hubble image. The many bright “blooms” within the galaxy are in fact stellar nurseries — regions where new stars are springing to life. Text credit: ESA (European Space Agency) Image credit: ESA/Hubble, NASA, R. Jansen

 

The universe wakes

in a brilliant blush of color

flowering dazzle clouds that sail on ifs

in magic rhythm from was to is

 

~for eternity or not~

 

do we embrace

with fired hearts,

desiring stars,

remembering home

 

A puente from the Oracle.

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Let the Magic Sail In

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Let magic sail in

on a brilliant candy corn sky

this blushing child heals—

time the thing of poetry

and night thoughts,

dances yet lingers

 

~flowing in circular patterns~

 

eternity’s ghost-fires

sends colored smoke clouds

from the stars.

In this rhythm of old secrets

the universe dazzles with if—

listen.

 

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There’s a heavy rain falling this morning, but yesterday morning was beautiful. I didn’t get a chance to consult the Oracle yesterday, but she must have known I had a good day and gave me this puente. (I added a few words she couldn’t be bothered with.)

Sail Into the Vast Ever After

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See how time darkens her eyes,

yet her heart embraces still

this shrunken universe of

clouded color and cool breezes

 

~bringing fire from long ago~

 

the morning wakes bleeding red

but the dazzle-blue world throbs with if—

I listen to its magic,

let the ghosts sing on

 

~and fly away~

 

the champagned air dances to star rhythms

with flowering smiles–

it and we who were

sail into the vast ever after

 

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The Oracle and I collaborated on this poem, which was a puente, but then we kept going. . .I suppose that’s what a bridge to the universe would do.