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.

 

 

Horizons: NaPoWriMo, Day 5

This pantoum is inspired by a post by Frank of A Frank Angle. I borrowed my first line from him. Thanks, Frank!

 

At the horizon, known and unknown meet,

this liminal space between sky and sea

when the sun dips down, and night not complete

where dreams are unfettered and left to dance free–

 

this liminal space between sky and sea,

in this place, future and past together dwell,

while explorers and dreamers look here with uncertainty,

they still seek this place–and fall under its spell.

 

In this place, future and past together dwell,

some think deep thoughts here, some none at all,

they still seek this place—and fall under its spell

as they watch ships vanish, beyond shouts and call.

 

Can we know what fate foretells here–

when the sun dips down, and night not complete?

Do we fear, question, or wait for what appears?

Certain only, at the horizon, known and unknown meet.

John Frederick Kensett, “Sunset on the Sea,” [CC0], via Wikimedia Commons

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’m off prompt for NaPoWriMo.  I’m also linking this to dVerse Open Link Night.

 

Dying Crow: Haibun

This is for Frank Tassone’s haikai challenge. He asks us to write about ravens, but he also says “kangarasu translates as ‘cold crow,'”  so I’m going with that. I really like crows. When my daughters were little, there was some sort of illness that killed many crows. I knew not to touch the dying crow in my yard, and I called animal control. They collected his body at some point while I was away.

 

I hear the sounds of crows cawing, over and over. They have gathered in the trees around their fallen friend, as he lay dying on the ground in my backyard. I stare into his eyes, which seem to plead with me. What is he asking? How do I answer?  I want to comfort him. I wish I could. His eyes still haunt me.

 

windows to the soul

dying crow’s thoughts never voiced

winter without spring

 

1024px-Ales,_Mikulas_-_Karlstejnsky_havran_(1882)

Mikoláš Aleš [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons