Feed your head they said—what does that really mean? How can any time be larger than now, more extreme than here, this cosmic habitat?
Microscopic, yet infinite– reflected, a mirrored convex lens—adjust, open, refocus your inner outer space—do you need to follow white rabbits to become unbounded—curious?
An espinela poem for Muri’s April Scavenger Hunt with vision as its subject, and following the NaPoWriMo prompt to write a poem that starts with a command. “Feed your head” was, somewhat strangely, the first command that popped into my mind (along with some Jefferson Airplane playing in the background), and fortuitously I had these cut up paintings from the Kick About prompt based on Marie Menken’s film “Lights”, which worked well with the words.
It’s all in context, perspective, how open your senses are to what surrounds you. What you notice. What notices you.
When you stand beside the ocean resonating with each wave, Shimmering beside the ocean ebbing flowing with each wave, It’s as if you’re moving with it spiraling and uncontained.
When the moon shines in your window and it wakes you with its light, Near full moon shines in your window wakes you up with silver light, Even shadows turn to magic and everything’s all right.
When the birds begin the morning fill the air up with their song, Robin cardinal and blue jay sing the sun up with their song, Even grey days seem to open make you feel like you belong.
If someone should think about you get in touch just say hello, An old friend is thinking of you gets in touch to let you know, All your worries are forgotten all those things that brought you low.
Then your mind distills and empties leaving room for what you’re not, All those thoughts retreat get quiet now there’s room for what you’re not, You can hear life’s heartbeat whisper you give thanks for what you’ve got.
For NaPoWriMo Day 18 where the prompt is to to write your own poem that provides five answers to the same question – without ever specifically identifying the question that is being answered. and Muri’s April Scavenger Hunt where one of the prompts is to write a blues poem.
secretly you hold the cosmos as if it were a newborn child– you are overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude the latitude the longitude– seamless in its capacity to expand and carry your bones inside your body at the intersection of all dark, all light
The prompt for NaPoWriMo Day 11 is to write a poem about a very large thing. I’ve used the waltmarie form with the subject of healing, prompt 12 from Muri’s April Scavenger hunt. I love the way this form illuminates itself with its interior verse.
The serpent grew wings– emerging from the cosmic egg, it became a bird.
Embracing the tree of life and all of spirit’s progeny, the serpent grew wings.
Beginning as a vast secret of stars and swirling light emerging from the cosmic egg
The serpent shed its skin and imagined miracles. It became a bird.
The NaPoWriMo prompt today was to write a poem about a mythical person or creature doing something unusual . My response is not exactly on prompt–I took a mythical creature but I reimagined it into hope instead of despair. As Brendan at earthweal says: let’s celebrate radical hope — that hope whose only basis is our faith in the wonder of life and our capacity to embrace it.
The form I used for the poem is the Cascade, one of Muri’s April scavenger hunt poetic prompts. I’d forgotten how much I like it–thanks Muri!
I did not have to look far into my Redon-inspired collages for a mythological subject. The stitched mandala is from my constellation series–this is the Phoenix, first published on Pure Haiku.
Your ashes illume, cradled beyond day and night – great is the unknown.
She dreams in the languages of flowers, wandering corridors of vast gardens fragrant with the chaos inside her heart. Lady sings
in riddles– bouquets of rhymes imagining an oasis of roses, an enchantment blooming into the mystery of the blues.
Who will be her lover now? Where is the prince to penetrate the thorns enclosing her mind? Blood shadowed with the reds, whatever
her grief has aborted into deceptive darkness. She is muted into madness. She is drowning in every aromatic sepulcher she can find.
The NaPoWriMo prompt for day 3 was to write a “glosa” – literally a poem that glosses, or explains, or in some way responds to another poem. The idea is to take a quatrain from a poem that you like, and then write a four-stanza poem that explains or responds to each line of the quatrain, with each of the quatrain’s four lines in turn forming the last line of each stanza.
Kevin Young is writing about Billie Holiday. Like Ophelia, she is associated with flowers, and had her own ways of drowning in her sorrows. My collage is based on a painting by Redon, who visited the subject of Ophelia many times.
out on this melting edge– a fool sailing through oceans of haunted broken heartstars, the poison of decaying days– I ask how dark it must be to awaken the tears of angels, the ferocious fire of your gods