Celebrate. . .but

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Sunrise, Pitman Golf Course, June 2020

 

Celebrate,

but listen–

not to the naked fool.

 

Drink,

but not the dark brews

of pseudo-science and demagogues.

 

Celebrate and drink 

in the dazzling beauty of sky, sea, and flowers

that bloom and dance in the breeze.

 

Listen for good,

for healing and laughter,

for all the ifs

 

time offers

 

a window open to always,

never, and ever after

reflected in the glass,

 

past and future

in a brilliant cloud,

ghosts

 

leaving a trace in the air,

like perfume, I breathe in

the scent of caramel and coffee

 

that floats,

like a smile of, for

eternity.

 

My message from the Oracle. She does love the Puente form, even though she likes to play with it.

It’s Independence Day here in the U.S., the fourth of July, when we celebrate the anniversary of when the Second Continental Congress adopted the Declaration of Independence in 1776. The Oracle is obviously disgusted with the display the current and supremely ignorant inhabitant of the White House decided to put on last night, where he played to the basest of his base.

 

Not Never, Always

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My mother sings in dreams,

not of death, but light

holding promises of if–

soar, she cries,

why whisper what you want

when your words can fly,

 

~reaching~

 

for you, I wake,

as the robins rouse the sun

to blossom in apricot splendor.

Their voices carry on the wind–

a song that makes the flowers dance,

and I watch, at peace

 

~in this moment~

 

the world searches

for hope,

sending out wishes on stars

with a laugh,

time sings through a thousand rivers,

not of never, but of always.

 

I tried several sets of tiles, and the Oracle kept giving me the same words. I hope I interpreted her message correctly. A Puente is technically two stanzas connected by a bridge stanza, but the Oracle had more to say, so this is a double Puente.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Dream of Ancient Light

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Franz Marc, The Dream

 

Born of ferocious fire clouds—

angel or ghost?

An almost there, like

a trace of perfume lingering

in the indigo night

from bright blooms blanketing fields

in colored harmony

 

~vivid and haunting~

 

somehow like a dream–

of verdant paths with deer and ponies,

where we bird-fly over the bluest river

into the secret of when

and what was, and here—

we follow tendrils of sun-songs

to the ancient light of then and if. . . forever.

 

The Oracle made me work for this puente today.  The humidity has lifted, and a mockingbird is putting on a concert in my backyard.

 

 

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The Moments Between

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Odilon Redon, “The Muse on Pegasus”

 

In the moments between

the dream hours

she joins my father

in the timeless night–

not asking if this universe

is real or true,

 

~only that it is~

 

all I can embrace–

the magic of a laugh,

the sun dancing in

the promise of a new morning,

and the rhapsodic songs of the stars,

lingering.

 

The Oracle gave me nearly all the words for this puente, so–I just went with it.

A Story of Dreams and Wonder

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Reflection, Odilon Redon

 

Almost-color in the clouds–

dark ghosts–that blush-tipped feathers

wing away, the dreams that linger

 

~in the after-winds of time~

 

we watch the fire-heart of the sky

dazzle us with flower-flames–

singing songs of a thousand ifs

 

~in a shimmering symphony~

 

the heavens dance,

giant birds soar, their iridescent splendor a-flight,

traveling home, bright jewels in the night.

 

A double puente, which probably isn’t a form, from my Saturday morning collaboration with the Oracle. I’ve been having a hard time focusing the last couple of days, so I’m taking it.  And Redon, of course.

 

 

And Light

Feeding Time--NGC 4651

“This remarkable spiral galaxy, known as NGC 4651, may look serene and peaceful as it swirls in the vast, silent emptiness of space, but don’t be fooled — it keeps a violent secret. It is believed that this galaxy consumed another smaller galaxy to become the large and beautiful spiral that we observe today. Although only a telescope like the NASA/ESA Hubble Space Telescope, which captured this image, could give us a picture this clear, NGC 4651 can also be observed with an amateur telescope — so if you have a telescope at home and a star-gazing eye, look out for this glittering carnivorous spiral.” Text credit: ESA (European Space Agency) Image credit: ESA/Hubble & NASA, D. Leonard

 

Listen—

ask a ghost

how the universe wakes

with icy champagne kisses

spiraling in time,

feeding between sound

 

~and light~

 

drifts from the stars

you wish upon–

you dream of if

and promises made

with smiles and tears

in the language of hope.

 

Another puente from my collaboration with the Magnetic Poetry Oracle. I used words from two sets of tiles.

 

 

 

 

 

And After

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An ache—and after–

she lives

in rain whispers,

moon music,

and dappled light

 

~winging through trees~

 

the crows call, and I laugh

a dream of ifs, why, and how

love is a recalled–

the scent of roses

on a summer breeze, lingering.

 

A puente from a collaboration with the Poetry Oracle. She truly does know everything. My mother died one week ago.

Dreams and Stars: NaPoWriMo2020, Day 16

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Redon, “Barque Mystique”

 

days turn to night

and back again–

dreams drift,

a barque on a mysterious sea

 

~above the stars dance~

 

and we reach up, swallow them–

filled with honeyed light

we whisper in shimmered tones,

leap–and fly.

 

This is a puente. I didn’t have a chance to post it yesterday for Day 16 of NaPoWriMo, but I’m off prompt. I’m linking this to dVerse’s Open Link Night, where Lillian is hosting.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Once and for Now

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The only tree on the block in bloom, Walnut Street, Philadelphia.

 

Once the moon hummed

in a dazzling glow

and we who wanted–

and longed for if–

walked through now

listening to our own hearts

beating

 

~in time~

 

death comes

but now

beneath sweet budding branches,

as pink and red blooms burst open,

the music of life

plays a symphony,

luscious and sweet

 

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The Oracle gave me this puente today. It’s been a crazy week. The world still seems to be tilting while we’re holding on. I thought we were in lock down today, but it was a false alarm.

I apologize for the delay in reading posts. I’m going to take the opportunity to get some errands done today while I still can, but I’ll be catching up on reading this weekend.

Stars Falling

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Vincent van Gogh – Starry Night on the Rhone, 1888

 

Beneath a spray of tiny diamonds

the wind whispers a dream–

a poem murmured,

of a path through cloud blossoms

in the universe’s garden–

time lingers there

 

~in secret rhythms~

 

shadows dance here

under the honeyed moon

and the air carries the scent of if,

like the air before a storm,

as I wake, remembering

stars falling in fragrant petals

 

A puente from a collaboration with the Oracle. Most of the words came from one set of tiles, with a few from another set. I was dreaming poetry the other night–it wasn’t this–but the Oracle knows. . .