blue volcanic dust
scattered over surfaces
forged in chaos
invisible with stillness
do cosmic naiads
dancing spells to quell
the human stain
of those metallic beasts
who came without
hollow words echo
breaking ancient silences
begun before time
A quadrille for dVerse. Lillian has provided the word tranquility.
A word that always makes me think of the moon. And I was dreaming the other night of naiads, dancing.
absence in the voice
a silence that holds what isn’t said
need hovers with wings
ready to fly into fear
blood too has its stillnesses
the knife that cuts out the heart
the breath holding forever
the part that was written for someone else
De at dVerse has given us the word voice for our quadrille this week. My poem is not a ghazal, but in the spirit of one.
I’ve used this painting before, but I thought it fit the words.
In this shrinking space
fretted with every hue
we do not recognize each other–
impatient, we pass by miracles,
mired in a series of staged events
our nights are electronic,
our days surrounded by walls–
our hand held by a tiny machine.
Kim has us considering the word “fret” for our quadrilles this week at dVerse.