For Frank Tassone’s #haikai challenge 151, autumn storm/darkness. I wanted a much gentler vision, but the Oracle was having no part of it.
pounding its raw grey stormchant
wind language dreaming
mad with shadows whispering
in a momentary light
Cicadas are one of many species that make multiple visible transformations during their lifespans. The longest living insects, they are symbols of both rebirth and immortality.
of earthy tree sap–
spells of magical
The word for the Kick About #8 challenge is cicada. What beautiful wings they have.
I first painted the cicada, then glued wax paper down for the wings and embroidered on top.
Sea, moon, sails–
are words a story?
ends. Compassed and jibed. Adrift
and dreaming. Betides.
A shadorma for Colleen’s #tanka Tuesday, using synonyms for circled and squared, and for Sarah at dVerse who asks us to consider boats.
Once again I’ve dipped into my art archives for the illustrations.
In my childhood, even our suburban house was only half a block from woods and meadows and creeks to explore. We had no devices to keep us indoors, and we went outside at every chance. There were still open spaces, for butterflies dragonflies tadpoles bees creeks meadows woods trees rocks sky prickers blackberries colors and clouds and wind—we ran wild, my mother just told us to be home for dinner, who does that now? They would take your children away from you.
I had the companionship of trees plants wild things animals and such clouds to contemplate–I used to lie on my back in the grass and just look at the sky, what was I thinking? Maybe thoughts beyond thought before thought. Now my mind is so busy it never stops to just be and let the world run through like a river like the wind.
child-self lying in
a bed of
sky—everything is opened
up, shining—the world
to a forever,
they ebb and flow—cascading
landscapes shouting yes!
Sarah at earthweal asked us to think how we connected with nature in childhood. I took sentences and lines from 5 previous posts–especially I remembered writing about this subject in a collaboration I did with Claudia McGill, and the bulk of the text is from there.
The art was done as a homage to artist Thornton Dial–I took his title, Stars of Everything, and made my own collage and accompanying words. He knew about the power of art.
“Art is like a bright star up ahead in the darkness of the world. It can lead peoples through the darkness and help them from being afraid of the darkness….Art is a guide for every person who is looking for something.”
I hold my own hand
and step into that place
I don’t know and can’t see–
I was always making it up,
but in reaction,
waiting for clues–
Now I see only myself,
my indecision mirroring back
and making me hesitate–
More than a crossroads–
paths appear everywhere
as the center shifts–
I sway with choices–
pick a card, any card–
eeny meeny miny mo
I wrote this for the earthweal weekly challenge strange world. When I went to post it today, I realized it’s the 75th anniversary of the Hiroshima bombing, so I decided to include some of the art and words from my previous 70th anniversary post.
The madness of humanity has been evident for a long time.
no meaning no sense
words are lost is there a way
to stop this bleeding
What are we going to do about it?
This is our cry.
This is our prayer.
Peace in the world.
–inscription on the Children’s Peace Monument in Hiroshima
also linking to dVerse OLN hosted by Lillian
in the wake of August moon–
clouds whisper sky sea
memories of ocean blue tides
rising almost full at dusk
Jupiter is really bright in the night sky these days. A few days ago it moved right above the moon across the sky. The night before that the moon rose luminous in the blue dusk.
Last night it was a beautiful gold, but my close up turned it white.
For Frank Tassone #haikai challenge, Sturgeon moon, and Peter Frankis at dVerse, looking out the window.
The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy.
–Martin Luther King, Jr.
You would think if you shared a birthday with someone whose date of birth merits a national holiday, people would remember. But the actual date of my own birth is still a constant confusion to many of my family and friends. (I know it’s in January…what day again?)
Maybe it’s the moving of all holidays in the U.S. to Mondays, so everyone can enjoy a long weekend. No need to acknowledge why their employer or school is giving them a day off—the real reason for holidays is to have 3 days off in a row with no work, right?
voice of crow under grey skies–
how to fill the hole
Kim at dVerse prompted us to talk about our birthday.
Do we bless the worn, the weary,
the visible scars?
or do we replace what remains
and begin again, forget?
What do we owe the elements
that lack breath?
They too hold spirits–
remembering, keeping watch—
sentinals of imperfect journeys–
the everything of alive
For Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, above.
Because of all the energy usage due to the heat, Con Ed has been threatening power outages for weeks. Now it’s the tropical storm/hurricane. I haven’t had power problems except for intermittent internet. So if I’m not around much, that’s why.
When I saw what the Oracle had given me today, I went looking for an old post I had done on blue whales. What I wrote six years ago is only more true today.
The blue whale is the world’s largest and heaviest existing animal. Hunted almost to extinction by whalers in the 19th century, it is currently endangered, like many other species, by habitat loss due to pollution and climate change. Toxic chemicals and the warming of the ocean disrupt migration and food sources, sonar disrupts whale communication, and whales also collide with ships and become entangled in fishing gear.
Humans have not been kind to whales.
A good, if depressing, compilation of whale and human history can be found in Philip Hoare’s book “The Whale”. My review on goodreads is here: https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/118181104
Also linking to earthweal open link weekend.
secrets breathe between
The day was packing heat,
hanging it like a curtain
between me and the world–
dampening all sound,
clogging the airways,
slowing synapses down.
The open windows
provided no threshold
of relief–no wind
You can neither forecast
the way the currents
move you, or strand you
in a density that refuses
Some days have wings–
but most rely on gravity
to anchor them–
to keep them
safe from the whims
The Kick-About #7 Challenge is Walter Richard Sickert’s painting, Ennui, above. Ennui is most closely associated with boredom, but it is heavy with an attitude that it seems to me is mostly posturing. It’s a self-indulgence of the privileged who needn’t even be bothered with the daily tasks of life like cooking or washing clothes, or even gardening, as they have servants to deal with such mundane things.
Boredom infers monotony which does reflect the world many of us inhabit right now–the endless days and hours that we can’t keep track of anymore. But it’s not really boredom. I have no problem filling my days, though I can’t always point to what exactly it is I’ve filled them with. But I find it hard to focus, to find motivation, and I’m often anxious and uneasy and feel unsettled and displaced. The relentless heat is no help.
That’s what I tried to capture in my August grid and poem. The pandemic world of now seems to box you in, surround you with a sameness of grey.
The eye in my grid is a serendipitous borrowing from Marcy Erb.