The Oracle, once again, discarded all my original words and replaced them with her own. And perhaps not so strangely I found a collage I did a few weeks ago that fit perfectly.
ask the blue wind why
it cries as if nothing sails
on moonshadowed seas
we sleep in the languages
of water whispered dreams
phantasma
goria exposed
by shadows
dissolving
into borrowed wings eclipsed
by casting out light
I’m behind a few weeks on posting my contributions to the Kick-About, but this is the most recent, a collage inspired by Sheila Legge’s Phantom of Surrealism, above. Masked in roses, she was photographed in a white dress and gloves, surrounded by pigeons in Trafalgar Square, a performance inspired by a painting by Dali.
I was drawn to the statuesque quality of the photo, particularly given the location, and I can never resist using birds in a collage.
And of course we all don our own masks–some are just more obvious than others.
where is the center?
always moving–
I can’t locate
the pivot
always moving–
the place of stillness,
the pivot
of this labyrinth
stillness
retracing
this labyrinth
emerging
retracing
beginning
emerging
expanding
to begin,
I relocate–
expanding
the center
For Earthweal, where Ingrid asks us to consider our labyrinthine times.
more
and more
crow-
ded in-
to less and
less—un-
fold-
ed and
folded a-
gain each new day–
do I need
to know
who
I am?
words scatter
like air–
gone,
disa-
ppeared
David at the skeptic’s kaddish introduced me to the waltz wave, an poetry form that asks you to separate the syllables for some of your words. I like to do this, especially in shadorma.
I found it to be a challenge, especially to find the right subject matter for this kind of verse. In the end I wrote two, both of which seemed to go well with an old collage I had done which was based on a painting by Redon.
do
dreams fly
or
tunnel?
flow or stun?
spiral
to
the cen-
ter or spin
out to the far-
thest away?
will they
em-
brace or
turn around?
para-
llel
or de-
part?
For Colleen’s #Tanka Tuesday, poet’s choice.
Also linking to dVerse OLN, hosted by Mish.
“It doesn’t make a damned bit of difference who wins the war to someone who’s dead.”
― Joseph Heller
“And a step backward, after making a wrong turn, is a step in the right direction.”
–Kurt Vonnegut
August 6 marks the 76th anniversary of the bombing of Hiroshima, which was followed by the bombing of Nagasaki on August 9—the only time nuclear weapons have been used in war.
Between 130,000 and 230,000 people were killed, mostly civilians. Many of those who survived the bombing itself were stricken with radiation sickness and died painful and premature deaths.
The story of 12-year-old Sadako Sasaki’s attempt to make 1000 origami cranes after falling ill with leukemia turned the Japanese Crane, long a symbol of immortality, into a symbol of the wish for nuclear disarmament and world peace.
There are currently less than 1800 Japanese cranes surviving in the wild, for the usual human reasons—loss of habitat and food sources, pollution and poisioning, poaching, disease.
And so it goes…
burning floods
birds singing silent
ash and bones
For Frank’s haibun prompt at dVerse, August. I’ve written about this in August and used these images several times before.
This is our cry.
This is our prayer.
Peace in the world.
–inscription on the Children’s Peace Monument in Hiroshima
http://www.nippon.com/en/images/k00009/
Sadako Sasaki was a toddler living in Hiroshima when it was bombed by the United States. Ten years later she died as a result of leukemia, “the atomic bomb disease.” If you don’t know the story of Sadako and the 1000 Cranes, you can read about it here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sadako_and_the_Thousand_Paper_Cranes
Our origins are hard to find–
we turn around, try to unwind
the center point of what’s behind–
we travel blind, we travel blind.
With roots and branches all entwined,
we’re lost in our unconscious mind–
remembrance wanders unconfined
and recombined, and recombined.
We long for all to be divined,
controlled by talismans and signs–
but life seems always disinclined
to be defined, to be defined.
For Grace at dVerse, a monotetra. I don’t usually write to a specific rhythm, but I enjoyed composing this. I happened also to pick a good rhyming word right off.
I could not find the photos for this art, which I did for one of Jane’s Sunday Strange Microfiction prompts, in 2017, so I don’t have a close up. But here’s the translation of the words.
What to do between the silent secrets of stars?
Open the question at the crossroads of memory and your dreams.
Chase clouds of deep light.
Learn how to become a traveler in the unexplainable.
(in any order…)
Just goes to show I’m still writing about the same things. Although in this case I had some help from the collage box Oracle.
“Ecosystems are so similar to human societies—they’re built on relationships. The stronger they are, the more resilient the system.”—Suzanne Simard, Finding the Mother Tree
we keep dividing
designating
a hierarchy
to pull what we share
apart
and so each
of us is missing
parts
each of us is
incomplete
why do we cling
to our separation
our isolation
who we think we are
alone?
the foundation
is faltering
and still
we hold
on
collapsing
into
the deep
hole
of ourselves
During a presentation Suzanne Simard made, early in her career, about her research into the interrelationships between trees and other species in the forest, and how all were necessary in order for the forest to thrive, she mentioned also the threat to climate from disrupting these systems. “Climate change means nothing in Canada” one of the audience said afterwards.
For earthweal.
Life is difficult.
Well of course it is. Easy is monotonous. Uncomplicated is boring.
What is possible must first be imagined.
Am I looking for the Land of Milk and Honey? Am I waiting for my Ship to Come In? Do I yearn for Promised Lands? Do I search for the Pots of Gold at the Ends of Rainbows?
Do I ask to be One of The Chosen Few?
No. I do not.
Weep at the world.
I am too busy.
Sharpening my oyster knife, so to speak.
Calling to the ocean, sailing on its moontides, seeking kinship on its shore. Culling only what still contains life, nourishment.
Cutting through the shiny exterior. Prying open the closed doors.
To see. What has been kept from me.
Secret, hidden, suppressed, denied.
A pearl or a grain of sand?
You can’t have one without the other.
Jade at dVerse has provided a quote from Zora Neale Hurston from “How Does it Feel to be Colored Me” in World Tomorrow for this week’s prosery: No, I do not weep at the world – I am too busy sharpening my oyster knife.
Indeed she was.
The Oracle got a makeover from MagneticPoetry.com. It’s going to take getting used to. I used the new “happiness” category. I can use some, after reading the news this morning.
When I saw the Oracle’s message, I immediately thought of Sun Ra, an artist of living, not just music, that my older brother introduced me to when we were teenagers. “Space is the Place” was a title he used for many different pieces of art.
I had titled these birdling collages from my archives “birdlings in space”. The birdlings make me happy no matter where they are.
where is wonder?
make time for space
alive with possibility–
between comes whispering–
soon surprise will follow
everywhere
falls apart
mind to eyes
expanding
falls apart
becomes its opposite
expanding
into stories
becomes its opposite
days into nights
into stories
the sun intersecting the moon
days into nights
future and past
the sun intersecting the moon
enlarging the horizon
future and past
the surprise of delight
enlarging the horizon
to leave is to arrive
the surprise of delight
mind to eyes
to leave is to arrive
everywhere
The Kick-About prompt this time was a painting by Brian Rutenberg, Low Dense, above. The colors immediately made me think of Monet, which made me think of the grids I did based on Monet’s work. And so I decided to do a grid.
This is a very intense way to look at art, and I learned a lot from it as I not only did some of Monet’s paintings, but an entire book of other artists for The Sketchbook Project. The subtleties of color are amazing when you look closely at them. Rutenberg clearly has an eye for color.
And my second pantoum for the week. Abstract, like the art.
You can see my work with Monet here and here. And my Sketchbook Project book, Art I Like, here.
