The Light Behind the Clouds

IMG_3578

The storm rolling in

 

Charcoal clouds

sweep across the sky–

windswept shrouds

covering

summer’s blue, a magic trick

of sun, moon, and stars

 

glimmering

with secrets of time.

Watch streaking

meteor

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.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Promises and Dreams

IMG_3675

 

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.

 

 

 

 

 

Lux Mentis: Prosery

512px-Kuindzhi_Moonlit_night_on_the_Dnieper_1880_grm_x2

 

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.”

 

 

 

Two Poems Up in Black Bough Poetry

IMG_3564

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.

IMG_3565

 

 

Birth of the Muse

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)

 

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

 

Screen Shot 2019-06-22 at 7.06.48 AM

 

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.  🙂

 

 

 

 

The Secret Poetry of the Stars

stsci-gallery-1022a-2000x960

Angel breath flowers the morning

and soft blush-clouds sail

in dancing rhythm

waking all the ifs–

 

let ghosts fly

in and out of time,

haunting universes of then—

and almost-when

 

I will laugh the secret poetry of stars,

their brilliant blue voices

celebrating eternity

with lingering dazzle-light

 

Screen Shot 2019-06-15 at 7.22.03 AM

From my morning consultation with the Oracle.

Unanswered Cascade: NaPoWriMo, Day 2

512px-Meteor_burst

Why,

I ask,

do I smile

at blushing skies?

If scented, I’d smell

peach—my mouth waters—though

the window glass is frosted,

the peach, only a memory,

a dream of what was, or what could be.

Time, meandering in my head always

circling around, forming connections, here

cascading like a waterfall, or

a shooting star, streaking, trailing

glimmers of light as it falls–

and then, the dinosaurs

gone in random strike,

like a question

unanswered

trailing

if

 

 

Sunrise this morning was such a beautiful peach color.

This double etheree is for NaPoWriMo, Day 2, where the prompt is to write a poem that ends with a question. It is also for Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday, and dVerse, where Amaya asks us to use “cascade” or write a cascade poem. Poetry Month! I wish I could sit and write poetry all day. So many prompts; too little time.

 

 

Muddled–Quadrille

Muddle my mind

with syllables that sing

the zing of spring.

(Fevered believer.)

Befuddle me with blackholes and space–

see the moon’s humming face,

timeless, timebound,

her fullness, lost and found.

There the dying star

glowing from afar,

it’s unmuddled light,

clear, still bright.

Morning Moon

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A quadrille for dVerse, where De Jackson (aka Whimsy Gizmo) has asked us to use the word muddle.

 

 

 

 

Past and Future, Touched

“Remember to look up at the stars and not down at your feet. Try to make sense of what you see and wonder about what makes the universe exist. Be curious.”

–Stephen Hawking

she once had

a mortal body

long ago–

or was it?

Unbound by time, she’s unsure

drifting in moonlight. . .

 

and starlight

and in brightest sun–

it is all

part of her

and she of it. Wandering,

she touches your heart–

 

you feel it,

a shock, fear–and awe,

but also

desire

for knowledge. Look at the stars–

time and space folding

 

Embed from Getty Images

 

This is for dVerse. We were asked to write a shadorma with the prompt “phantom.” I’ve done a series of connecting shadorma stanzas.