linear?
of course not—the past
is here now,
becoming
more unrecognizable
with each breath in, out
A shadorma responding to Britta’s W3 poem where she has asked for something short on the subject of time.
Also linking to OLN at dVerse, hosted by Sanaa.
I’m honored to have been chosen by Freya Pickard and the artist who provided inspiration, Troi David Loy, as the featured artist for Pure Haiku’s Ghostlight theme. I’ve responded back with my own collage inspired by the original work for each poem. You can read my first haiku here.
Thanks Freya and Troi!
Margins move, expand
to new apogees, new depths–
vicissitude reigns.
Riding the rainbow we leap
onto the Wheel of Fortune
Change is the key word for the Year of the Tiger.
The first tiger blends Mexican and Chinese mask elements, and the second is based on Chinese children’s shoes. Tigers are considered a powerful protective motif, and are often used for children’s clothing, hats as well as shoes. Fish are added for abundance and good luck.
Tanka for Colleen’s #TankaTuesday challenge, tasting the rainbow.
The Wheel of Fortune is digital art, created many years ago. I should revisit it in collage.
listen to the sound of air–
filling the distance,
tiny continuous hums–
whispers weaving nets,
forming a loose cocoon un
seen, awash, present–
between silences singing–
distilled reflection
Brendan at earthweal this week asks us to “describe an enchanted moment”. Neither words nor images seem adequate for the sound of air, but I attempted it anyway. It doesn’t happen all the time, but sometimes when I meditate everything else fades away and I can hear the air. Most often it sounds like the image above.
But sometimes it has more clarity.
And in rare moments, it takes colors into the layers of movement.
The images were created by taking some of the art from one of my Kick-About responses to a film about light and applying Photoshop filters. I’ll get around to posting the originals at some point.
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.
I was surprised and pleased to receive an email from Kristen at Visual Verse last week asking me if I would like to be one of the featured poets for July. She sent me the image, by Maria Victoria Rodriguez, and I sent her back my poem. You can see both here.
Thanks Kristen!
the landscape
pauses, quiescent–
waiting on
the edge of
movement—no time passes here–
framed in memories
Colleen’s #TankaTuesday prompt this week was an interesting one–
I chose shadorma. How to change it? I had noticed before that all the lines had odd numbers of syllables, so I added one syllable to each line, to make them all even.
landscape pauses,
quiescent, waiting on
movement’s edge—no
time passes here–
a stilled photograph of silence–
time framed in memories
Thinking of a name was difficult. Shadorma seems to be totally made up, although several people noted the similarity to the word shadow. So I decided to pick a name with a beginning from light. I ended up with Liala, because I like the sound of it and the repetition of the a ending. It’s evidently a girls’ name but I could find no meaning for it.
There is a subtle difference between the odd and even syllabled poems, but I’m not sure which one I like best.
The photos are cropped versions of panoramas composed by my older daughter from photos she took in the mountains of Arizona where my father requested that we spread his ashes. My mother did not make any request except to be cremated, but we managed to find the very same place to spread her ashes years later after her death.
Red is an imaginary carpet
dancing with desire,
lettering the days
with roses and birdwings.
Red is the sky
that turns the morning
into an omen, the night
into a full moon–
catching dreams
like a wayfaring balloon
painting the town with stars.
The NaPoWriMo prompt today is to write a poem that delves into the meaning of your first or last name. Roig means red in Catalan.
It doesn’t matter if you say
no
in fact: why not?
go ahead
I’m taking it with a grain of salt
It’s a blessing in disguise
I may have missed the boat but
I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it
in fact: the sky’s the limit
And if I’m not playing
with a full deck: so what?
I’ve got an ace in the hole
I’ve got the whole nine yards
I’ve got all the time in the world
Take a wild guess–what’s in my hand?
Gobbledygook? Only a joke?
Hullabaloo? Mirrors and smoke?
Juggle to play–where will they land?
Diamonds and kings? Jack and a Trump?
Ace in the hole? Or just a hunch?
Song and a dance–strike up the band!
Monkeys are here–business to make–
Chickens are counted–won’t calculate.
Quick! Heads or tails? Where do you stand?
Not fair at all? Surely you jest–
I’m just a card–take a wild guess.
Two final fools for 2020, both from 2016. I wonder what inspired me that year? Let’s hope 2021 deals us all a better hand.
K. 