pantoum

Of Eden, or: Paradise Lost

Once rampant with color, its fragrance long gone,
the paint has dried into textured lines–
afternoons of melodic stillness now mourned–
decorative traces lost inside frozen time.

The paint has dried into textured lines,
ringed by the noise of questions unasked–
decorative traces lost inside frozen time
bleeding destruction we haven’t yet grasped,

Ringed by the noise of questions unasked
life is tenuous, scattered, emotions removed–
bleeding destruction we haven’t yet grasped,
as over and over we bandage the wounds.

Life is tenuous, scattered, emotions removed,
following roads that only disappear–
over and over we bandage the wounds–
the darkness rises, overwhelming with fear.

Following roads that only disappear,
like the garden once bursting with growth—
the darkness rises, overwhelming with fear–
sky is silent, empty, brittle as bones

We lived in a garden bursting with growth,
afternoons of melodic stillness, now mourned–
sky is silent now, empty, brittle as bones–
once rampant with color, its fragrance long gone.

I love pantoums, but I usually don’t rhyme them, so this proved challenging to me. It still could use some revision, but I need to let it sit for awhile. Punam asked for a pantoum on the theme of abandonment for her W3 prompt this week. I had also been thinking about Sherry’s prompt at earthweal, asking us to write about all the species vanishing around us. And Colleen’s prompt for Tanka Tuesday, a painting by Monet (below), had me thinking about what we’ve lost since Monet painted all his overflowing gardens at Giverny. Will we one day only know such beauty as a digital image?

I also started out with a lot of words from this week’s Random Word Generator, but some of them dropped out during revisions.

encircled by orbiting

in this recurring dream
the forest disappears–
unbound by earthly time,
collapsed into spiraling

the forest disappears
behind layers of eternity,
collapsed into spiraling–
who can disentangle the dark?

behind layers of eternity,
casting threads into moonrings–
who can disentangle the dark?–
the shadows seem insufficient–

casting threads into moonrings
to catch the reflection of owl–
the shadows seem insufficient
for gathering the ancestors–

to catch the reflection of owl,
take your fears and hide them–
gather the ancestors
in the bottomless wildness of light–

take your fears and hide them–
unbounded by earthly time–
in the bottomless wildness that lights
this recurring dream

For earthweal, where Brendan asks us to visit the forest of light and shadow. I am certain one will always find an owl there.

lineage

as if always
echoes out of nowhere–
like raven shimmered,
gathered into silence,

echoed out of nowhere
on the water’s edge–
gathered into silence
like the beginning of time—

on the water’s edge,
iridescent, unfathomable–
like the beginning of time,
balanced on the horizon,

iridescent, unfathomable–
like wings thundering–
balanced on the horizon,
a whisper

like wings thundering
inside dreams–
a whisper
that begins as brume

inside dreams–
the way the sky
begins as brume,
opens and frees itself—

the way the sky
within and without
opens and frees itself,
shining

within and without–
tiny stars of stillness
shining
through light,

tiny stars of stillness–
like raven shimmered
through light–
as if always

Lindi at earthweal this week says: Write yourself into your landscape, what shapes you there and what is shaped by you? Name the gods of your rivers and skies, tell us how you live by and through them and how they live through you — let the world know they are holy! Birds always write me into wherever I am, and Crow seems to always find me. Are they gods? many ancient cultures believe so. They are certainly holy.

This pantoum was written for The Ekphrastic Review challenge which was the totem pole carved by Canadian artist Ellen Neel, below. Raven is the bottommost figure on the pole. My thanks, once again, to editor Lorette C. Luzajic for featuring my work. You can read all the responses here.

embryonic

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?

No Harbor

impossible to recall
exactly how it began
within disconnected walls
of days too narrow, thin

exactly how it began–
no entrance, no way out
of days too narrow, thin–
like land-encrusted boats

no entrance, no way out–
unplaced and yet confined
like land-encrusted boats–
this fog inside my mind

unplaced and yet confined,
an echo on repeat–
like fog inside my mind,
these lines that never meet

an echo on repeat
within disconnected walls–
these lines that never meet–
impossible to recall

A pantoum, inspired by the paintings of Lee Madgwick, which were provided by Sarah at dVerse. The pantoum form is for the W3 prompt, where Aditi asks for something dreamlike.

Agnes was here (before Hugo, Fran, Floyd…

…Isabel, Jeanne, Ivan, Charley, Katrina, Rita, Wilma, Ike, Irene, Sandy, Maria, Irma, Harvey, Michael, Laura, Ida…)

the glass falls shattered by the wind
the water rises to the trees
the heavens cry that we have sinned
approach the ending on your knees

the water rises to the trees
the air in spirals bends the sky
approach the ending on your knees
you’ve passed the time for asking why

the air in spirals bends the sky
a wild revolving cosmic hole
you’ve passed the time for asking why
you must surrender all control

A wild revolving cosmic hole
the heavens cry that we have sinned
you must surrender all control–
the glass falls shattered by the wind

In his discussion this week at earthweal of extremes, Brendan specifically mentions unrelenting storms and hurricanes as part of the new weather patterns brought on by climate change. When I looked up the damage and death from hurricanes in The United States and the Caribbean the last 50 years, since Agnes in 1972, it was hard not to be stunned by the continued lackadaisical response of our government to the obvious magnification of severe weather. Band-aids for situations that require surgery.

in tandem 1 and 2 (Earth Day 2022)

when you leave yourself behind,
where do you go?–
clouds a shimmering path

blue like a robin’s egg–
this liquid sky, darkening into shadow–
when you leave yourself behind

does the mirror look back
like a lake regarding the sky?
where do you go?

do fish see themselves in the stars?
do birds ride feathered waves?–
clouds a shimmering path

The prompt for NaPoWriMo today was to write a poem that uses repetition. That prompt was made for me. I had been working on and off all week for a poem for Sherry’s prompt at earthweal, to write from that place of holding onto wildness of soul. I thought that today, Earth Day, would be the time to post it.

So I took my ideas and made a cascade, but there were ideas left over, so I did a pantoum too. You can never have too much repetition in my poetry world.

when you leave yourself behind
(clouds a shimmering path)
where do you go?–
windsong the surface

clouds a shimmering path,
the lake regarding the sky–
windsong the surface
displaced by light

the lake regarding the sky–
as it hues the reflection
displaced by light,
does the mirror look back?

as the earth hues reflection,
do fish see themselves in the stars?
does the mirror look back
when birds ride feathered waves?

do fish see themselves in the stars
on the remnants of moontides?
when birds ride feathered waves,
do they flow into calligraphy?

on the remnants of moontides,
where do you go?
will you flow like calligraphy,
leave yourself behind?

As I’ve noted before, I attended the first Earth Day celebration in 1970 in Washington DC. Not too much has changed since then. We can do better.

Poetry Postcard Fest 2021: Pantoum and Moon

I want to spiral with stars,
I want to breathe deeply
of the galaxies–
fly into vast silences

thrown towards the essence
of the galaxies,
the echo of silence–
I want to spiral with stars

For the Poetry Postcard Fest this year, I decided to do all moon postcards from my own photos as I had already done a series of them for one of the Kick-About prompts so I had the beginnings started. Last year I did shadormas for the poems using part of the last line of the previous poem as the first line for the next one.

But this year I decided to do a pantoum, giving me two lines for my next poem. These are the first and the last cards, the beginning and the end of the poem. I enjoyed it, but I don’t think it was as successful poetically, as I kind of got bogged down in the middle by the repetition. Too much of a good thing–41 stanzas is a lot.

Since I made 41 postcards I sent them all–to the 32 people on my list, and the rest I sent to friends. In return I got 25 from people in my Fest group, plus 2 from friends. You can see the ones I received at the top. Last year one postcard arrived in December, so more may show up. Once again I enjoyed the variety in both the postcards and the poems I received. Not to mention finding real mail in the mailbox–that’s always a treat.

I intended to post all the postcards and poems I sent last year for PoPo 2020, but I didn’t get very far. I did do 3 posts with the first 6 cards–you can see them here:
https://kblog.blog/2020/10/02/popo-2020/
https://kblog.blog/2020/10/18/popo-2020-part-2/
https://kblog.blog/2021/06/14/popo-2020-part-3/

They may still get posted at some point…and also more of this year’s moon cards. You can never have too much of either the moon or pantoums.

You can read about the Poetry Postcard Fest, and register for 2022, here.

Also linking to dVerse Open Link Night, where Lisa (who also participated in the Postcard Fest and made and sent me one of her beautiful postcards) is hosting.

recalibrations

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.

Newborn

Where there’s life, there hope–
your tiny hand is full of promise,
growing into luminescence,
reaching out, moving towards light.

Your tiny hand is full of promise–
it opens like the sky,
reaching out, moving towards light
like a flower awakening.

It opens like the sky,
complete and infinite–
like a flower awakening,
dancing with the wind.

Complete and infinite,
you sparkle the darkness–
dancing with the wind
like a trail of stars.

You sparkle the darkness–
a mirror, a pathway
like a trail of stars–
everything all at once.

A mirror, a pathway
growing into luminescence–
everything all at once–
where there’s life, there’s hope.

Merril at dVerse asks us to write a poem incorporating a proverb.

where there’s life, there’s hope