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.
yellow
mellow moon
is the color
blue
velvet moon
is the color
red
blood moon
is the color
green
–not easy–
(but then nothing ever)
is (quite) the color
of the amphibious moon
music of my mind
Mention a color, and all kinds of music comes into my mind. Grace at dVerse has us thinking about musical synesthesia. Stevie Wonder has it. It has nothing to do with the vision of your eyes.
she spins
a new cocoon…
wings folded, form fading,
reflecting back as ghost shadows
–enter–
the dark circle of the forest
moves ever closer as
time compresses
–itself–
quiescent…what
is done is done…what will
emerge as the continuum
–expands–
unbounded, uncharted, starborne
she waits…her elements
recombined as
essence
I used the (repeated) butterfly cinquain form because Diana Peach’s #photoprompt illustration, above, for Colleen’s #TankaTuesday, made me think immediately of a butterfly/cocoon.
For the artwork I did a painting inspired by the illustration and then fooled around with it in Photoshop to try to convey a feeling of metamorphosis.
Pop goes the weasel
goes the world out
the world reeking of
weasel out of it
I missed the window for the dVerse Pop Art prompt from Victoria last week, but I had an idea for it and I wanted to follow through. I also wanted to try a Lewis Carroll Square Poem, which I saw on Paul’s Poetry Playground recently. My attempt is far from perfect, but it’s a start, and the fact that it doesn’t completely make sense seems appropriate.
I don’t agree with the designation for the most of the artists Victoria found that were listed as pop artists (Kurt Schwitters? Jasper Johns? Rauschenberg? has the person who made that list looked at their art?) but Andy Warhol certainly falls into that category. My digital art, above, is inspired by his work. I used to dismiss him, but his art is wider and deeper than just the soup cans or iconic repeated images. And all his imitators prove that it’s harder to do than it looks.
He did not have Photoshop either.
