“In a light echo, light from the flash is reflected by successively more distant rings in the complex array of ambient interstellar dust that already surrounded the star. V838 Mon lies about 20,000 light years away toward the constellation of the unicorn (Monoceros), while the light echo above spans about six light years in diameter.” Image Credit: NASA
For Kerfe and Jane
The echo of stars’ light
(so bright, so bright)
twinkles through space and time
in radiant waves shimmering
(the sight, the sight)
of shimmering stars
and humming moon
(her tune, her tune)
propels us forward
with Oracle and alchemy
(rhapsodies of fantasy)
we three witches seek guidance
through conjuring magic
(the gifts, the gifts)
of whys and ifs,
thus, we pause life’s darkness
to reveal the light—it’s there, it’s there!
So bright, so bright, so bright, so bright.
This is for my prompt at dVerse, where I’ve asked everyone to echo or write about echoes.
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
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.
Hubble Space Telescope-Image of Supernova 1994D (SN1994D) in galaxy NGC 4526 (SN 1994D is the bright spot on the lower left). NASA/ESA, The Hubble Key Project Team and The High-Z Supernova Search Team
Twinkle, bang—a star explodes, sending its dust into space. We’re made of that dust, ephemeral and eternal. Everything connected, nothing ever truly extinct. Listen—
stars shimmer and sing
treble and bass symphony,
in bright notes of stellar light
tumbling into space
At dVerse, Linda has asked us to use the word “extinction” (or some form of the word) in a quadrille, a poem of 44 words. The extra challenge is not to discuss climate change.
This is a haibun tanka quadrille. Maybe a haibun tanka is not a thing, but oh well. I’ve also used synonyms for fall and give for Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday challenge. I was joking with someone about stars “singing,” but here’s an article about the sounds they make.
NASA Goddard Space Flight Center from Greenbelt, MD, USA [Public domain]
A dream rose from time
and above the moon,
whispering if in honeyed tones
and recalling the diamond light
of a thousand blue stars
she is still,
but soars as a bird
in her slumber
singing of love,
while the music of water and wind
sighs a chant of life and after
The Oracle really made me work this morning for this puente. I’m taking my friend Jane’s advice to make this a collaborative effort, filling in a few spaces when necessary.
“Earthrise” Taken by Apollo 8 crewmember Bill Anders on December 24, 1968
but no water,
a desert place,
a silvered space–
could it ever feel tranquil?
In solitude, we kick
no cloud forming
no sunrise warming
but the blue planet
over a curved horizon–
except to us.
Lillian has asked us to write a quadrille (a poem of 44 words) using the word tranquility or some form of the word for dVerse. I love the word, though I haven’t felt too much tranquility lately. Yesterday afternoon, the Oracle whispered “Sea of Tranquility” to me.
The storm rolling in
sweep across the sky–
summer’s blue, a magic trick
of sun, moon, and stars
with secrets of time.
carrying ancient glitter
scattered on the earth.
I’m supposed to be working on my book, but somehow my poetry brain took over, and a poem appeared instead of a chapter. Ooops! This is a shadorma sequence for Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday–synonyms of light and dark.
In the dew-dappled dawn, promises fly,
rising up in murmurations, flowing
into space, tracing patterns in the sky
turning into misty clouds, then throwing
shadows back onto dreams. But then knowing
that the moon rises as the sun sets still
and the earth yet revolves–and will–and will
beyond our mortal lives. So, starlight gleams,
we watch it speckle bright the night—until
it seems, our dreams grow luminous streams.
I haven’t been around much lately at dVerse, and I’m sorry for being so behind in reading. I have a lot going on right now. This is my first attempt at a dizain, this month’s poetry form at dVerse.
We sail the night sea in our silvered ark. We’re refugees with lives programmed by machines that tell us when it’s day or night. On the observation deck, I can see the distant light of faraway stars, beckoning but elusive, like dream fragments remembered as you wake. Somewhere out there is our destiny–yet I’m haunted by the memory of sunshine streaming through the trees and the sound of birdsong on a summer day. Sometimes I hear the crash of waves in the constant humming of machinery, and I can almost taste the salt of ocean breezes.
Last night I dreamt I was the moon. I looked down and cried for Earth, gone forever.
At dVerse, we’re trying something new: a flash fiction piece of 144 words or less based on a line taken from a poem. We’re calling it prosery. Sarah has offered us this wonderful line, “Last night I dreamt I was the moon” from Alice Oswald’s “Full Moon.”
The morning moon hummed fiercely today in the heat. I will be staying inside and taking work breaks to read Issue 2 of Black Bough Poetry, “Lux Aeterna” –Eternal Light. It is filled with tributes to Apollo 11–breathtaking poems and wonderful artwork. Please do take a look.
I am thrilled to have two poems in this issue, “Moon Landing” and “Dark Matter.” Thank you to editor Matthew M C Smith (no relation, though my husband has some Welsh ancestry. . .) for selecting my poems and for editorial suggestions on “Dark Matter.”
These are the grown puppies mentioned in “Moon Landing”–a bit blurred, like a memory.
“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)
The universe fires a brilliant cloud
of lingering secrets star-born in blushed night,
she wakes there, sailing cool, dark velvet seas
of poetry and picture
embracing you in perfumed air—
and you let her
fly you on ghost-kissed breezes of never and always
dazzling with if,
her almost-remembered eternity
I was going to call this Birth of the Oracle, but I didn’t want to presume or offend her. Some people will be happy that I included the “if,”– I almost left out it out today. 🙂