I read the news today (oh boy)

I read the news s

approaching greyscale
this blurred journey
slips
down streets
not only nameless but
soundless, dislocated

all the rhythms are abbreviated–
throbbing, stagnating
in a silent cinematic slow motion–
a composite of fragments
neither awake nor asleep–
a perpetual absence
of who
what when where
why

For dVerse, where Linda has given us the quadrille word of slip, and earthweal, where Brendan asks, “What comes next?”

Room to Fly

perhaps hand s

Imagine a window
in a wall that is constructed
of fear and superstition

Imagine an open window–
it does not exist because
no one has built a wall for it

Imagine flowers–
bloomings that subsist only
in the invisible world of the window

Imagine wings
growing in the unseen air,
releasing the imprisoned breath

Imagine a window,
a portal to what isn’t there–
a borderless unceilinged sky

birdlings close up 4s

Laura at dVerse asks us to make some room.  And Sherry at earthweal asks us to consider all that is wrong with the world and how we can make things right.  As John Lennon knew, our ability to change is often just a failure of our imagination.

I thought the birdlings were appropriate to these words.  And the window is an old collage based on the work of Miriam Schapiro, who knew a thing or two about both portals and collage.

the lights went out

th lights went out s

Broadway is dark now, vacant.  The only lights to be seen shine out of hastily abandoned office windows, or from traffic lights that change for invisible crowds.

Makeshift stages shrink to fit into screens, the audience now virtual.  Dreams stand still, waiting between hope and grief.

dancing voices pause–
forever on the verge of
opening to spring

the lights went out close up s

Billy Joel wrote this song in 1976, inspired by the NY Daily News Headline “Ford to City:  Drop Dead”.  And in 2020 we have a parallel line:  “Trump to New York:  Drop Dead”.

But we’ll be back.

For dVerse Haibun Monday, hosted by Kim.  We’re thinking about Mondrian’s ‘Broadway Boogie Woogie‘.

Obituaries (revised)

obituaries s

the language of gone–
a call without a response,
so loud it can’t be

heard—a silence entombed in
itself—on the other side

My poem “Obituaries”, is one of the responses to Joaquin Torres Garcia’s painting, “Pintura” (below), posted on The Ekphrastic Review today.  The three poems on this post were composed from parts of it.

Picture

Frank at dVerse challenged us to write some 5-line Japanese form poems.  I must confess that I like the 5-7-5-7-7 form of the tanka, now considered by purists to be false.  Whatever you call it, I still think it works well as a way to focus thought and express feelings.

the language of absence
language of gone
the before of never
silence entombed
the language of death

obituaries close up 1s

The new definitions for writing tanka and haiku confuse me, and I have no idea how to write something that will satisfy the powers that be, although I keep writing 3 and 5-line poems.  And although I recognize a well-written gogyohka, and understand the single line-single breath idea, I have difficulty naming anything I’ve written with that label as well.

language
forbidden
remains
a response
of absence

obituaries close up 2a

But and so…in my continued pruning mode, I’ve taken the posted poem (which was itself severely pruned several times) and turned it into three 5-line poems.  Hopefully they fit the dVerse prompt in some manner.

My thanks to editor Lorette C. Luzajic for once again featuring my work.  You can see my poem “Obituaries”–the original from which these 5-line poems were taken–and read all the other responses as well, here.

the way out is also the way in

the way out s

a journey far from home
outside of existence
filled with voices
containing only silence

outside of existence
the mirror turns away
containing only silence
the echoes of opening

the mirror turns away
reflected in portals
the echoes of opening
where time remains lost

reflected in portals
held in absentia
all time remains lost
until the stars sing

held in absentia
amid the unexplained
until the stars sing
souls crossing over

amid the unexplained
filled with voices
souls crossing over
a journey returning home

the way out close up 1s

Another pantoum.  Ammol at dVerse asks us to consider portals.

the way out close up 2s

rebirthing

rebirthing s

falling down
like water–
to begin again,
cross over–

like water
waiting to be
crossed over,
awakening.

waiting to be
encircled,
awakening,
drowning in flowers,

encircled
in dreams,
drowning in flowers–
fix the bridge–

in dreams
we begin again–
fix the bridge
falling down

rebirthing close up 2 s

De provided the word “fix” for our quadrille prompt at dVerse.

rebirthing close up s

I wanted to see if I could do a pantoum in just 44 words.

Overtures

overtures s

Would you be crowned with jewels
or a garland of blooms?
a silence eternal or fleeting?

Would you seek a throne
or a resting place between?
a looking out or within?

perhaps a bed of meadow,
a ceiling of stars–
the earth beneath you—

Would you always be as you are?
or would you have your seasons,
knowing that change contains

both sweetness and sting—
that life gathers
in anticipation of emptying—

that everything constructs
the form that contains
its end?

More questions, for Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, above.

overtures close up s

Also linking to dVerse OLN, hosted by Mish.