A nonet from the Oracle for NaPoWriMo and Muri’s April Scavenger Hunt.
I want to be drunk with moon music
sing a thousand ships through shadows
still the mad wind that cries death
live inside the language
of the skylit sea–
time whispers spring
above my
rain-soaked
sleep
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
time
distills
into the
slow motion of
half-forgotten hours–
astral sunsets emerge
inside the dense dazzled air–
waiting to join the fading light
that veils the edge between earth and sky
A nonet for Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, above, and Colleen’s #tanka Tuesday, with synonyms for blessed and hex, provided by Anita Dawes.
I did two rorschach paintings which turned out slightly different.
But somehow I always end up with wings.
shall
we drink
to our fears?–
summoning lost
solidarity–
drowning pain with spirit
voices that echo and join
each other in chorused silence
broken like the bread we wish to share
A nonet for Colleen’s #Tanka Tuesday, inspired by the photo provided by Padre’s Ramblings, above. The artwork has no direct relation to either the photo or the words, but the wish to merge in our isolation runs parallel to both.
I haven’t been happy with most of the art I’ve done in the past month–I was really having trouble focusing even before the world became so uncertain–but one thing I did to try to get started was just some random drawing. This is the before and after of one day’s work. I drew with pencils and then used neocolors dipped in water on top. I can’t say I’m satisfied, but maybe with some stitching on top…(the solution to many dilemmas I find)
fathers of fathers
a photograph, a silence—
echoes enduring
My father and his father drawn from a photo–circa World War II. Must have been right before my father left for Europe. My grandfather remained in the States for the Second World War. He also served in WWI.
We clothe our dead from the two World Wars in nostalgia, but conflicts since then have become more frequent, and murkier, and today’s veterans have suicide rates that keep rising, despite sporadic efforts to find a way to help their troubled lives.
“More than 45,000 veterans and active-duty service members have killed themselves in the past six years. That is more than 20 deaths a day — in other words, more suicides each year than the total American military deaths in Afghanistan and Iraq.” (NY Times, November 1, 2019)
I wrote about this issue for Veteran’s Day in 2015 with the embroidered newspaper article about one Marine Regiment and the mounting suicides among its members. It was a heartbreaking read, and I made a nonet from phrases taken from the text.
He was doomed. Doomed to watch his friends die.
Life seemed increasingly bitter.
He never mentioned the war.
The funerals after.
He was still alive.
He did not care
to try to.
Gave up.
Scared.
Eyes
empty.
What they saw.
Directionless,
but what choice was there?
It becomes part of you.
He never mentioned the war.
Life seemed increasingly bitter.
Only regrets and flashbacks remained.
The very best way to honor our veterans would be to find a way to avoid the need for their sacrifices in the first place. But given the likelihood of that occurring, we can at least acknowledge their pain, attempt to support them, and try to find a way to return some source of connection and meaning to their lives.
If you are having thoughts of suicide, call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255 (TALK). You can find a list of additional resources at SpeakingOfSuicide.com/resources.
Linking to Frank Tassone’s #haikai Challenge #112 for Veteran’s Day.
eyes
open–
glowing with
intensity,
silent beneath trees,
starborne—facing skysongs
rearranging the distance
with colored light—no one knows when
or what comes before ever after
A nonet for Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, above.
The Other becomes objectified–
the truth barren, ruptured, hollow–
the path clogged and narrowing–
the pieces shot, scattered,
abandoned—the heart
fallen empty,
divided,
broken—
lost
A nonet for Colleen’s #TankaTuesday words, empty and space. There is so much of it that needs to be filled these days.
I had a vision for this watercolor, but the paint had its own ideas. Obviously acquainted with the Oracle.
K. 