I decided to do something a little different with Jane’s Random Word List this week–I cut out all the words and combined them with a few from my own collage box oracle on a painted postcard, as I like to do (but haven’t done often enough lately). The image was inspired by Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday prompt, the photo by her friend, Terri Webster Schrandt, below.
gentle
vagabond friend–
the countryside extends
great distances—opens
time to welcome
you home
she constructed herself out of symbols–
wings of air, pearls of fire and water,
darkness flowing through light on
foliage ships sailing empyrean tides—
wings of air, pearls of fire and water,
cast like a talisman amid waves of
foliage ships sailing empyrean tides–
stars swimming through sea and sky
cast like a talisman amid waves of
vast infinite whispers—blooming, listening to
stars swimming through sea and sky–
shapeshifting in cosmic reflection
of vast infinite whispers—blooming, listening to
the chimeric form of quintessence
shapeshifting in cosmic reflection–
the wheel turns through moons, dancing,
a chimeric form of quintessence,
crossing the rainbow bridge of between–
the wheel turns through moons, dancing–
female, fertile, fiercely bathed in blood—
crossing the rainbow bridge of between,
like darkness flowing through light–
female, fertile, fiercely bathed in blood–
she constructed herself out of symbols
Another pantoum, for earthweal where Brendan asks us to consider how we can fit well into the land–how do history and mystery intersect?
to belong
is a feeling–not
words over
heard in pass
ing, but a garment to wear–
it keeps you warm, this
chorus sung
by many voices–
it tells you
how to clear
your self, opening to be
come filled, become found
Sarah at dVerse shared with us once again the paintings of Fay Collins, and asked us to write to what we see in her images. I did not pick any particular landscape, but used the entirety of her work as inspiration for both my words and my watercolor, which reflect her immersion in and love of the earth.
Also linking to earthweal, where Brendan has asked us to praise what matters.
You can see the work of Fay Collins here.
Full was the first word that jumped out at me from the Oracle, but in the end it didn’t fit into what she wanted me to say. But it works as a title I think.
When I’m looking for images to illustrate a poem I search through old posts. I found some of these photos when I searched for trees in memadtwo, from a trip I made to visit my brother and his wife when they were living in Asheville, NC. Like me, he’s moved a lot–after 15 years and 3 cities in North Carolina, they are on their way back to Ohio again. So I probably won’t get back to Asheville.
But the photos and my memories of the landscape fit with the mood of the Oracle.s words today.
when moonspirit walks between
nightshading
listen like stones in the riverpath
follow deep rootblankets
through dark earth
resting at dawn
quiet beneath birdtendriled
ancient trees
It seems like every day I read a new article about the need for a sabbatical from technology and the fast pace of the world. Those slow pandemic days are fading fast.
Some people talk about a secular Sabbath, some want to revive the religious one. Some people propose not only ditching technology for 24 hours each week, but creating new shared rituals and places for community during those times. Some talk about just taking a day to go and sit with the trees, to experience the world at their pace. I wonder how many of us could actually slow down and withdraw from our devices enough to actually spend a day that way.
And all of these ideas are a hard sell in a capitalist world.
the water reflects
the world through the trees dappled
sky moving over
rocks and feet planted
like hushed reeds waiting to sing
the songs of quiet movement
and transforming light
This drawing is part of my attempt to try different things in my art journal. Many artists write on their pages as well as draw. The image is based on an advertisement photo–I removed the models and the product (I can’t remember now what it was) and wrote spontaneously about the landscape. Whatever they were selling, I wasn’t buying. But I always notice trees.
let life move
while you rest outside
and listen
For earthweal, Interdependence Day.
suddenly you open,
falling back into what
was ere, senses bare, taut,
returned, stepped through–
like dusk that silences
the sun, rooted in deep
layers of shadowed sleep,
awaiting night–
the point of transfer is
never clear—the threshold
disappears—uncontrolled,
adrift and lost–
each moment lingers too
long—endings shrink, tied fast
to darkness, floating past
what can’t be seen–
hints of color, mirage
of movement just beyond–
all sense of distance gone–
who owns this fate?
For Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, above, and Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday, an abhanga using synonyms for loose and tight.
How far, how
long? Is forgotten
gone? Today
can stretch out
ahead and behind towards both
retreat and escape.
Form has no
real boundaries—light
shifts, guarding
waves wielded
in ways we misunderstand
and fail to protect.
Things change when
we try to measure
them—they be
come contained,
finite, solid, orderly–
ordinary—fixed.
A shadorma chain for Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, above, and Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday words past and present.
Even changing the orientation of an image reconfigures how you see it.
Additional inspiration courtesy of Marcy Erb and Tom Waits.
My heart was split, and a flower appeared
–Solomon
the stillness rises,
leaving trails, glittering dust,
illuminated–
illuminated
path, column to sky portal–
what is left behind?
what is left behind
fills the silence, the silver
unmooring the ghosts–
unmooring the ghosts,
the whisperer raises limbs,
phantoms smoldering–
phantoms smoldering
from cracks growing like branches,
brambled, wintering–
brambled wintering,
hard as stone–not casting spells,
she is praying them,
she is praying them,
unshrouding the rapt tempest
as it waits, glowing,
as it waits, glowing
through trajectories of light
into the unknown–
into the unknown,
weeping, she follows, verged—her
eyes are full of birds
Laura at dVerse has challenged us to write mystic poetry for Advent.
Also linking to the earthweal challenge of Advent for Earth.
gathered in
like harmony
spilling out
like wings
like harmony
a stillness
like wings
unfolding
in stillness
each chord
unfolding
the world
each chord
filling
the world
with song
filling
the edges
with song
reaching
the edges
uncontained
reaching
the invisible
uncontained
singing
the invisible
to eternity
singing
beyond reason
to infinity
all needs
beyond reason
spilling out
all needs met
and gathered in
An unrhymed pantoum for Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, above.
I stand facing the ocean
tides of wing and air–
time fades into mystery,
emptied of illusions
tides of wing and air
held in light–
emptied of illusions
I swim in dream languages
held in light
horizon merges into skylandsea–
I swim in dream languages,
wordless songs that awaken stories
horizon merges into skylandsea
consumed by rivers of stars–
wordless songs that awaken stories
mirrored in ethereal blue
consumed by rivers of stars
time fades into mystery–
mirrored in ethereal blue
I stand facing the ocean
For earthweal, sacred (sea)scapes. How many poems have I written about the sea? As many as I have about birds and stars and moons. This unrhymed pantoum contains lines from many of them. The artwork is from my many previous ocean-themed posts as well.
K. 