Diana Glows

 

In lustrous beams that glow and flow

I bear the light to brighten night

with streaming rays

(so unlike my brother’s sun displays)

that silvers tracks in woodland parks

where fairies dance and foxes bark

to echoes of my glistening songs

that travel here and float along–

Listen, do you hear me sing?

Watch for me, as my stag I’ll bring

and hope to women in childbirth scared

look there—

now my radiance aired, my light is shared

 

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“Diana,” Augustus Saint-Gaudens, 1892-1893,  Philadelphia Museum of Art

 

I love this statue that stands at the top of the Great Stair Hall at the Philadelphia Museum of Art. The statue once stood on the tower of Madison Square Garden (installed in 1893). It has been at the museum since 1932. In 2013-2-14, museum conservators repaired and restored her original gold leaf finish.

This poem is for Secret Keeper’s Weekly Writing Prompt

The words were:  Song/Rays/Lead/Track/Scare

 

 

 

Time’s Glow: NaPoWriMo

 

We sojourn on between the moons

climbing full and white and bright and clear

but still the dark I feel is near

though here there is more luminous light

where comes the song of ancient sprites

wandering through shade, illuminating sight,

nearby, a diamond girl shimmers and glows,

ensorcelling face, radiant clothes,

her tongue sings music of forest and glen

urging spring and summer, again, again,

and time is endless here and always

with shadows splashed by sun-shining blazes

and roses bloom with sweet perfume

like golden apples of the sun, yet unconsumed

and gleaming, Earth seesaws now between beginning and done,

we’re dreaming, spindrift from slipstream, time’s run

 

1024px-Beatrice-1885

Odilon Redon, Beatrice,” [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

Day 29, WaPoWriMo. The penultimate day.  The prompt was to take a word or phrase from a favorite poem, free associate, and then write a poem. I took some words and phrases from the Magnetic Poetry Oracle and went from there.

I’ve borrowed an image idea–using one that is similar to the one Jane Dougherty used in her dreamy vision–because I thought this golden Beatrice fit the poem. So thanks, Jane. 😉

 

 

 

 

 

 

Imagination: NaPoWriMo

 

From my chair, I watch the sun rise rosy-pink,

in stillness, I blink, think,

drink coffee black,

listen to birds twitter-clack,

cats nap,

I map

adventures from this place

oceans, stars, outer space,

I wonder, how far thoughts travel, go,

then smile—I know

 

Today is Day 25 of NaPoWriMo. The prompt was to write about a space that is meaningful to you. I usually sit at the kitchen table and write, and I am very much a morning person.  This is a quadrille for dVerse, the prompt was some form of the word “still.”

 

 

Enchantment: NaPoWriMo

Fairy-queen,

silver moonlight drizzled in her hair,

glowing, gleaming in the night,

she dances unaware

of eyes transfixed by the sight,

a body stilled, by glance ensnared,

she twirls and whirls, entrancing sprite,

unable to move, he stays right there

bound, bewitched, until daylight

512px-Johann_Heinrich_Füssli_058

Henry Fuseli [Public domain or Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

 

This is Day 12 of NaPoWriMo. The prompt was to use alliteration and assonance. I wrote a quadrille for dVerse that fits both prompts. 🙂  The prompt word was “drizzle.”

 

 

 

My Love is Coming Home: NaPoWriMo

The flowers bloom upon the hill

and saplings perch beside the rill,

the robin sings his cheery trill,

my love is coming home

 

The sunlight streams through dappled trees,

chickadee whistles his happy reprise,

baby deer frolics in the gentle breeze,

my love is coming home

 

From distant shores will come a box

carried across the sea and over rocks,

you’ll rest amid the hollyhocks,

my love is coming home

 

The drum will play a rat tat tat,

the bugle’s Last Post after that,

somber faces and mourning hats,

my love is coming home

 

We should have danced a wedding tune,

but you have left me much too soon,

someday we’ll waltz beneath the moon,

my love is coming home

'Hollyhocks_and_Sunlight'_by_Charles_Courtney_Curran,_1902

Charles Courtney Curran,” Hollyhocks and Sunlight,” 1902 [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

This is for NaPoWriMo, Day 8. The prompt was repetition.

 

 

 

 

The Enigma: NaPoWriMo

He always had a smile,

stopped to chat a bit, awhile

with friends he met out in the street

 

Magazine covers featured his face,

seen here and there and every place

he was in demand to meet-and-greet

 

Men admired his style,

women loved his smile,

sighed and wondered if his lips were sweet

 

He was considered hale and hearty

invited to every important party

(without him the guest list was incomplete)

 

But on one inconsequential night

shortly before dawn rose bright

he placed a gun against his head

shocked, he was an enigma, everybody said.

 

This is for  NaPoWriMo-Day 4. The prompt was an enigma or riddle.

 

 

 

 

 

Songs of Spring: A Quadrille

Here is more spring-like quadrille for dVerse.

 

With delight, the robin sings

amidst his vernal wandering,

each treble note

seems to float

over newly surfaced yellow-green,

and we are keen

to feel the warmth, to taste the air,

to go about without a care

to listen to the songs of spring

Robin_on_bird_bath

By J. M. Pearson (Own work) [CC BY-SA 4.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons

 

 

 

 

 

 

Light a Candle

“It happened, therefore it can happen again: this is the core of what we have to say. It can happen, and it can happen everywhere.”

–Primo Levi, The Drowned and the Saved

 

Light a candle

six million, if you can,

resplendent glow,

for those who say they didn’t know,

for those who didn’t, do not see

what once was, what could be,

who overlooked the ash-filled air,

who still ignore the pleading cries

and do not hear the ghostly sighs

that float over the walls of hate,

now, don’t hesitate–

light a candle

for those who suffered

and had no buffer

from the fear,

no one to wipe away a tear,

who died because you didn’t see.

 

holocaust_memorial_center_memorial_wall_of_victims_005-1

By Takkk (Own work), via Wikipedia, Holocaust Memorial Center, Memorial Wall of Victims – Budapest, Hungary

For International Holocaust Remembrance Day, 27 January 2017. The anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz by Soviet troops. The few survivors are now elderly. It is important that we do not forget.

 

 

 

 

Fa La La: A Birthday Carol

Monday Morning Musings:

“Looking back, seeing far, landing right where we are

And oh, you’re aging, oh and I am aging,

Oh, aren’t we aging well?”

–Dar Williams, “You’re Aging Well”

 

“I am the ghost of Christmas Present,” said the Spirit. “Look upon me.”

–Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol

 

On my sixtieth birthday, I wake,

and I feel fine,

the same as did when I was fifty-nine.

I’m Merril the same as I have always been

with the calm certainty that I am me,

and this is forever who I will be.

 

Celebrations take place over several days,

(like a Jewish holiday, you know)

each one with food and wine,

and I feel fine.

 

First my husband and I go to Monk’s Café

we’re bundled against the cold night

but still I appreciate the Christmas lights

as we scurry from our car to there

breathing bursts of frosty air

till we’re seated at a window table where we watch people

rushing and bustling, walking dogs of every size

we’re in a bit of a hurry,

as we have tickets to a show,

so we forego their famous mussels, but not the fries,

I have a glass of wine, and I feel fine.

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Pommes frite at Monk’s Cafe

 

The show is called The Carols,

set in a VFW Hall in New Jersey,

it’s 1944, the men are gone because of the war,

heartfelt, if not brilliant,

but their voices beautiful

much more than suitable,

there are Yiddish phrases and 1940’s slang.

We laugh though the jokes are old,

it’s kind of sweet, and we are sold,

the retelling of A Christmas Carol

with a Christmas brisket is very funny,

(and well worth the money),

and the Christmas tale, the Yiddish shtick,

the sister love, the examples of

reminds me of my family, too,

and all the silly things we do,

the ghosts of Christmases, past, present, and future

combine in memory,

aged in my mind, and I feel fine.

 

 

The next night, my husband and I see La La Land

like an old-fashioned musical

the stars sing and dance amidst the stars,

there is jazz and heartbreak,

snappy rhythms, and we hear the beat,

not of Forty-Second Street,

but of Los Angeles,

City of Angels, City of Stars

shining just for them.

We discuss the movie over Indian food,

I am in complete movie musical mood,

So when my husband says, “It was a Merril movie,”

he is right, and I feel fine.

(And the onion bhajia are divine.)

 

Another celebration, another day,

with one daughter and sisters,

more food and wine,

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more talk and laughter,

and it could go on forever after.

One sister brings some funny headwear,

and we take photos in the restaurant,

when I try on a hat

another says,

“You look so cute. Like a pirate. A pirate baker.”

We laugh because it’s all so silly,

but in these uncertain times, we run willy-nilly

and seek shelter in our love and family jokes,

these are the people I love, my folks,

and they give me the gift of their time–

and cheese, and chocolate, and some wine,

and yes, indeed, I do feel fine.

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At Tria Cafe Rittenhouse for my 60th birthday celebration.

 

Afterwards, my daughter and I walk to the Christmas Village,

she’s not seen it, and she snaps a selfie

with us in our silly hats–

and I think we’re wealthy,

my daughter and I to share this love and bond

that goes so far, and much beyond,

and later I read the poem she has written me,

cry a bit, at the beauty

of feelings that she has, and lets me see.

 

 

My other daughter sends me a text

that the end of the Sound of Music seems too real,

and it makes me sad to hear such fear,

and though we must fight, and though we ache,

still, there’s much to celebrate,

to climb every mountain and ford every spring

to find our dreams,

yet I think we are right where we are

and we are aging well,

though only time will tell.

And so, with family and friends,

I’ll hold on to love,

I’ll fit it closely like a glove,

and stare defiantly at fate,

raise a glass of blood-red wine

and tell the world, that I feel fine.

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Birthday card

 

It is rumored that more celebrating is on the way, so stay tuned!

Here is Dar Williams singing  “You’re Aging Well.”