exposed

“That what you fear the most
Could meet you halfway”
–Victoria Williams, Crazy Mary

we live both predator and prey
our expectations threatening–
attack, suppress, retreat or stay,
we live both predator and prey
to welcome or to turn away
each action, choice, a reckoning—
we live both predator and prey
our expectations threatening

Sherry at Earthweal this week challenges us to think about our relationship with sharks, or the idea of sharks. I chose to focus on the fear, a good stand-in for many of our anxieties about living in and being part of a connected world.

Ever since Laura at dVerse posted her prompt with a link to eight line poetry forms, I have been fooling around with some of them. This poem is a triolet.

december morning

The Oracle was feeling mellow this morning. I can use some mellow.

This photo was taken out my window of last month’s (nearly) full moon.

here beneath this thick blue
winter world
I watch the murmur
of almost dawn

seeds rooted in the night
tendriling a path through
dark into day

I follow still
spirited full with secrets
breathed by the moon

resounding

bells
answer
each other
ringing over
and over as they
tangle with the wind, spin
sailing into echoed waves–
voices patterning the air with
streaming currents, orbed layers of song

A reverse nonet for Colleen’s #TankaTuesday words, mingle and drift.

I had an idea for the art and I did a few different versions with ink and watercolor on rice paper. Although none are exactly what I had in mind, they all have aspects I like.

Also linking to dVerse OLN.

and as a bonus two very different versions of The Carol of the Bells

Disturbances

Must we pay to travel between dark and light?

I quiet my own voice and listen.  What was not available to me before appears, unembodied, yet fully formed.

This wind.  Its sounds penetrate like sharpened visions, cutting through me with voices in languages I can only sense.  Doors open, my consciousness suddenly blown off its hinges.

I used to think there was an uncrossible chasm between heaven and hell.  But reading what I have just written, I now believe it was just a hole I dug where I should have built a bridge.

I have mingled my breath with forces I cannot control, and the gap is closing in overlap with both sides.

This wind cannot be contained by words.  It shivers me with fingers of fire and ice.  It is both more ravishing and more malevolent than eternity.  

Detached without beginning without end.

Prosery for Lillian at dVerse, with this line from Louise Gluck: “Reading what I have just written, I now believe”

Traveling in the Wilderness

Mid the woods,
snowdusk shadows are
spare–lovely
but cold, dark,
clinging like shaded brume and
wandering silent and deep.

Drawn here but
not belonging, I
do not have
promises
of morning or an end to
this vigil I keep

of if and
beyond—all those miles
now lost to
me.  I go
in circles of before–I
beg the night for sleep.

The Kick-About prompt this week was the last 4 lines of Robert Frost’s “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening”. I was struggling with my poem, a shovel poem (using the words of Frost’s lines as the last words in the lines of my poem) in the shadorma form, when Sarah at dVerse posted her prompt suggesting titles taken from “Surfacing” by Kathleen Jamie. The idea of traveling in the wilderness helped me find a focus.

I had already spent a long time fooling around with the art. The diorama I planned didn’t work out as I expected, but I liked the background paintings I did more than I thought I would.

Done on very wet rice paper, with black ink and silver and pearl metallic watercolor, they had much more of the feeling of Frost’s words than I expected. The diorama on the other hand, failed to match my vision, and I took 50 photos to come up with just a few that I liked.

Still I learned from the experience, including how natural light is much more blue than that from my drawing table lamp which has a yellow cast.

And I got a surprise in the monoprint that emerged from under one of the wet rice paper paintings which also seemed to capture well the feeling of my poem.

beyond dawn

I was thinking about the painting I did yesterday when I consulted the Oracle this morning. A shadorma for Colleen’s #tankatuesday. Sue Vincent provided the inspiration with her haiku, below.

clouds cover the moon,
beyond dawn’s pale horizon
sun rises unseen

haiku ©2020 Sue Vincent

sky of still
water—open me
to borning,
this healing
breath that listens to stars be
tween morning and night

transfiguration

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.