watch sky-show above
sing light language symphony
together through storms
we ache elaborately
gown’d by life and could have–but
The Oracle gave me a Tanka for Colleen’s Weekly Poetry Challenge. The prompt words were watch and voice. I substituted sing for voice–because you don’t argue with the Oracle. 😉
When we soared on Phoenix wings,
reborn from the ashes of the stars
flying in the slipstream of time,
then I knew I loved you–
this time getting it right–
creatures of the light
clothed in cloud filament,
dancing in rhythm
to the music of the universe
I loved the first line of Jane Dougherty’s poem, “Heaven’s High,” so much that I used it for the first line of mine. Thanks, Jane! J
Dream a little dream of me
as starlight blooms, high in the sky
the tears, I see,
are now wiped dry,
the night birds call from sycamore trees
sleep now, my love, sweet lullaby,
dream of me, body free,
but spirit hovering, still nearby
So, this actually fits two dVerse prompts. De Jackson, aka WhimsyGizmo, asked us to write a quadrille using the prompt dream.
Mish asked for a poem using a verse from a song. For some reason, the dream prompt made me think of this song. I’m wondering if I’ve heard it recently on a soundtrack.
Here’s Ella Fitzgerald singing “Dream a Little Dream of Me” (with Louis Armstrong).
I often use song lines as prompts in my Monday Morning Musings, and I know I’ll be writing more about dreams, but this is what I have for now.
a girl left her home as the morning moon shone through the tree branches and hummed a farewell song.
Before she began her daily chores, she wanted to enjoy the peace of the forest, to hear the birds sing, and to see the sun rise and gild the treetops in golden light. These moments of beauty both stirred and quieted her soul. Her village was expanding, but somehow the lives of all who lived there were shrinking. They parroted the words of the king and expected riches to follow, but life had not improved. Her parents had seen no reason for her to continue with her schooling. Other villagers felt the same way, and so the school closed. It stood empty on a hill, a silent beacon.
The girl walked, enjoying the feel of the cool morning air against her face. From above, the dawn star winked, startling her and causing her to stumble and fall on a small pile of feathers. They sparkled, iridescent, blue, silver, and red. She wondered what sort of bird could have dropped the brilliant plumes. As she stroked the silky quills, a door appeared in the forest. It shimmered in the air, and opened just a bit in silent invitation. The girl opened the door wider and walked through.
Inside was a land filled with light and color. Wisdom dripped from the trees, and animals licked it up. A deer came up to her, and shyly nuzzled her hand before sprinting off. Her hand tingled, and she was filled with joy. She learned the feathers came from the bird of knowledge, which was perpetually in motion. Its size and color constantly changed, and it looked different each time she caught a glimpse of it. Over time, the girl learned many things in this world from the trees and the animals, but eventually she wanted to go home.
She found the door and opened it–for it was never locked–and she stepped back into her forest. It looked sadder, smaller. Her parents were happy to see her, but they too, looked sadder and smaller. The villagers were disillusioned. The village had not prospered, and though many still dutifully echoed the king’s words, others were seeking something more. The girl joined these seekers, as they reestablished the school, and she shared an important message:
Ignorance brings fear; knowledge leads to hope.
The girl became a woman, and she remembered the lessons she had absorbed. She made time for books and nature, and when she had children, she read to them every night. She told them the story of the bird of knowledge, and showed them one brilliant blue, silver, and red feather that she had kept. Sometimes the dawn star looked down at them and winked.
William Llewellyn, “Girl with Pigtails,” [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons
This is for a writing challenge that Jane Dougherty and Jeren of itsallaboutnothing concocted. You can read about it here.
Well, I suppose this is too long for flash fiction, and it doesn’t involved insects, and I guess it’s fairy tale, not a folk tale, but other than that it fits the challenge perfectly!
hidden in the wind
shimmering music, love
drifting from the stars
through time, hunting and haunting
lost and found over again
By ESO/B. Tafreshi (http://www.eso.org/public/images/potw1637a/) [CC BY 4.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons
This if for Colleen’s Weekly Poetry Challenge. The prompt words were hunt and find.
The child presses her face against the window glass
watching as the sun sinks into the sea
and the first stars appear in the sky.
She makes a wish as one streaks, burns, and falls
vanishing like her neighbors.
(“Poor things,” her mother had said
seeing their yellow stars.)
She wonders if they will send her a postcard
from wherever they are,
and if she can change her wish–
to see them again,
the doctor with the kind eyes
and his daughters with their long, silver hair
who had played with her.
The child, older now, presses her face against the window glass
and watches the stars in the sky
the bombs silenced,
she hears a song murmured by the wind
singing to her of hope and dreams,
bittersweet, like chocolate she remembers,
she sees streams of starlight
sowing dreams in sparkling silver waves,
thinks of her long-ago wish
and knows—somehow– it will come true.
Star Sower by Hai Knafo, Wikipedia Commons
This is for Secret Keeper’s Weekly Writing Prompt. The prompt words were:
| APPEAR | PRESS | POOR | CARD | FALL |
I am born with the stars, but I have always been. From a shadow world and through a smoky veil, I emerge, a shimmering spirit. A bang, a flash, and the universe expands, pitch-black, but filigreed with radiance. I skim the waves of space and time and dance to the humming music of the cosmos. Wherever I go, I leave a glow, light in the darkness. I travel in loops and streams, in and out of umbras, always and forever. See me, that flicker in the night sky–there and gone.
star spirit shimmers
darting, dancing joyfully
gilding the darkness
circling round suns, moons, and stars,
constant, timeless, eternal
Attributed to Carl Schweninger der Jüngere, “Morgenstern,” [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons
This haibun is for Colleen Chesebro’s weekly poetry challenge. The prompt words were smoke and veil.
Assume the world’s full of joy,
not hate,
stare at birds,
wonder at our fate
and if we’ll mind what happens after–
“the late”
they’ll call us,
if not the great–
but we’ll be gone,
beings that are not immortal
(unless time folds–perhaps a portal?)
and so, we shouldn’t hesitate
just assume the joy
of stars and earth
of moons that hum with charming mirth
then laugh, my dear–
no, stop, wait
—listen
there–the robin on the garden gate
I needed a poetry break this afternoon!
This is for Secret Keeper’s Challenge.
The prompt words were: Assume/Mind/Late/Being/Stare
Ancient songs
drifting through space,
invisible
indivisible
immutable
(listen)
above,
just out of reach
but there,
part of the universe
unhurried
unvarying in variation
we—
poor devils—
do you hear?
(listen again)
the storm is coming
when it clears
hear the stars
calling you
Another storm quadrille, using Secret Keeper’s words: Above/Ancient/Part/Devil/Poor
I’m wondering if there’s storm coming today in D.C.
Spring meander,
goose and gander
sit on their nest
take turns then rest,
lilac scents the air
children play, feet bare
without a care,
each laughing cry
floats to the sky
twinkling bright
in the night,
the goosey pair
now aware
honk and stare,
look with delight
at sparkling light
dancing, giggling in the night
Canada Geese by the Delaware River, Red Bank Battlefield, National Park, NJ
This is Day 28, NaPoWriMo. We’re asked to write a poem in Skeltonic verse. The form is named for English poet John Skelton (c. 1463 – 21 June 1529). It is also called Tumbling verse.
