Pleiades

The Pleiades, an open cluster consisting of approximately 3,000 stars at a distance of 400 light-years (120 parsecs) from Earth in the constellation of Taurus. It is also known as ‘The Seven Sisters’, or the astronomical designations NGC 1432/35 and M45. NASA, ESA, AURA/Caltech, Palomar ObservatoryThe science team consists of: D. Soderblom and E. Nelan (STScI), F. Benedict and B. Arthur (U. Texas), and B. Jones (Lick Obs.) [Public domain]

He’s breathless

at the sight of them,

all seven

beautiful.

Heedless of their desires,

only knows his own.

 

A god’s touch–

they’re doves. Now weightless,

flying high

and higher

through the moon’s shimmer, and then,

too, they glimmer.

 

Ageless, they

wander, star-lighted,

twinkling and

traveling

through the skies. Are they at peace?

Immortal sisters

 

still pursued

but untouchable,

in stellar

grace they sail

an indigo timeless sea

forever and on.

 

For Laura’s dVerse prompt, “less is more. . .”  She gave us a list of words. I chose breathless, weightless, ageless, and I added timeless. This is a shadorma sequence. I’m also linking it to Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday prompt. 

 

 

 

 

Dancing, Dazzling, If

“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)

 

After the secrets dance

from blushing clouds

and with wild magic

(like long kisses)

wake

 

~an eternity of ifs~

 

till you return,

and beneath the honeyed sea-spray

where diamond drops shine in the light

we embrace again and again

remembering this dazzling life

 

~and yet~

 

here with fevered almosts

ghosts surround us,

haunting in soft color

firing hearts and voices,

to picture never and always

 

 

Ilya Repin, “What Freedom”

 

The magnetic poetry Oracle and I collaborated on this double puente. So, that’s probably not a form, but I don’t argue with the Oracle.

Her Heart Kissed Joy

Peder Severin Krøyer [Public domain] “Summer Evening at Skagen beach, the artist and his wife”

Her heart kissed joy—

as if

she was not born

of hard work

and never would go far–

but sailed on stars

and heard them laugh

 

~in a brilliant champagne sky~

 

over the ocean’s voice

I ask you to linger,

remembering this–

a window in time–

and you smile in the soft night

while we dance through

a universe of always

 

I have so much to do, and I’ve been feeling so stressed, but look what the Oracle gave me today. This puente! I’m feeling better now.

 

The Laugh of Time

The galaxy NGC 1156 resembles a delicate cherry blossom tree flowering in springtime in this Hubble image. The many bright “blooms” within the galaxy are in fact stellar nurseries — regions where new stars are springing to life. Text credit: ESA (European Space Agency) Image credit: ESA/Hubble, NASA, R. Jansen

 

Stars flower and breathe brilliant icy clouds

through time, a laugh

haunting the universe with dazzle ghosts

of cool blue fevers dancing in rhythm,

living on

 

~after the when and the almost~

 

do we wake up to magic?

Mornings of soft red skies

and a breeze perfuming the air, a kiss of if?

Or do we go into the night un-embraced,

without listening for poetry surrounding us?

The Oracle made me work for this one, a puente, this morning. (She’s ancient so her spelling is a bit whimsical.) But now I can go about my day.

 

She Sees Home

“Powerful gushers of energy from seething stars can sculpt eerie-looking figures with long, flowing veils of gas and dust. One striking example is “the Ghost of Cassiopeia,” officially known as IC 63, located 550 light-years away in the constellation Cassiopeia the Queen.” Image Credits: NASA, ESA and STScI; Acknowledgment: H. Arab (University of Strasbourg)

 

She sees home

in the poetry surrounding her,

listens to a laughing ghost

kissing the perfumed sky,

sails it, this smoky magic

dazzled with if.

 

How to make it linger?

Here was born dark–

yet from it

brilliant angels wake,

and smile.

 

My message from the Oracle today.

 

In the Dream Time: NaPoWriMo

“The Future Began Here,” ESO/B. Tafreshi [CC BY 4.0 (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0)] via Wikipedia Commons: “This week’s picture was taken by ESO Photo Ambassador Babak Tafreshi at ESO’s La Silla Observatory. The bright lane of the Milky Way can be seen streaking across the skies above the Chilean Atacama Desert, beneath which sits the New Technology Telescope (NTT), one of the ten active telescopes located at the observatory. La Silla is the oldest observation site used by ESO. . .”

The moon hums, and the stars sing

and the souls go a-wandering,

to dance in a shimmering ring.

 

There is no past, no care what future brings

as they float and whirl and swing–

while the moon hums, and the stars sing,

 

the owls hoot along, then they take wing,

and the trees remember—everything–

as the souls go a-wandering.

 

Perhaps I dream? Time circles, springs

when souls fly high in gossamer strings,

to dance in shimmering rings.

 

Off prompt today for NaPoWriMo. I just couldn’t face sad, and the first two lines came to me at the gym. (Don’t ignore the muse!) This is a cascade poem. I wrote of a cascade, but I didn’t actually write a cascade poem for Amaya’s prompt the other day on dVerse, so I’m doing this one for Open Link night. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Sojourners

Carl Locher, “Fishing Cutters in the Moonlit Night,” [Public Domain] Wikipedia

Guided by the glittery night,

the sojourners flee,

sailing by starlight,

looking for their destiny.

 

The sojourners flee

north, south, east, or west–

looking for their destiny,

which constellation offers rest–

 

north, south, east, or west?

Which the most auspicious sky?

Which constellation offers rest.

Which offers them a why?

 

Which the most auspicious sky,

a harbinger of hope?

Which offers them a why?

(Their fate spins in a horoscope.)

 

A harbinger of hope–

and so, off they go–

which offers them a why—

visions on an epic scope.

 

And so, off they go

sailing by starlight,

carried by the current’s flow,

guided by the glittery night.

 

Here is another pantoum, the dVerse form of the month. This is for Anmol’s prompt on geography.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Laughing Breath of Stars: Magnetic Poetry

Look for magic

on a fire cloud—breezing

 

to embrace the laughing breath of stars–

almost an eternity of rhythm–

 

born if and always

to linger—

 

so, when waked

ghosts go (never sadly)

 

but after-voiced lie healed,

so old and sacred,

 

time-kissed

and remembered–

 

And we will celebrate that which was

and like angels dance

 

over brilliant blushing skies–

a universe at peace

 

This the birthday poem the Oracle gave me.

 

Coffee and Stars

Ask about coffee,

but explore champagne.

Linger at cool marble angels—

live time,

but breath the secrets of ghosts.

Wake and be dazzled.

Look! The stars smile.

 

 

Embed from Getty Images

 

 

Once again, the Oracle knows.

When the Stars were Bright

When the Stars were Bright

He wooed her when the stars were bright,

she liked the way he smiled at her.

He kissed her first one moonlit night–

she thought, “he is my future.”

 

She liked the way he smiled at her,

not knowing then his smiles would fade.

She thought, “he is my future,”

forgetting daylight darkens to evening shade.

 

Not knowing then his smiles would fade

when hardship came in winter cold,

forgetting daylight darkens to evening shade

and so, her youthful dreams remained untold.

 

When hardship came in winter cold,

he packed a bag and sailed away,

and so, her youthful dreams remained untold

to him, but she was glad he had not stayed.

 

He packed a bag and sailed away.

She remembered the things she had not said

to him, but she was glad he had not stayed,

caressing her belly as she lay on their bed.

 

He kissed her first one moonlit night

(she remembered it so well.)

He wooed her when the stars were bright–

to their babe, that’s all the story she’d tell.

 

Joseph Noel Paton, “Hesperus, the Evening Star, Sacred to Lovers,” 1857 [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

This is for dVerse. Björn asked us to write a poetic narrative. Jane and Kerfe have me thinking of pantoums.

I wrote this while listening to the Kavanaugh hearings. . .it started out much darker. . .