The Language of Riddles

Who provides the soundtrack
when the film ends,
when life is a series of missteps
made in solitude?

Who sings to you
(of love, mostly of all)?
Who puts wings on words
and conjures crows?
Who opens the day with robinsong?

Who walks with you like the wind,
rustlesoft through trees?
Who tells you that you are and are
beyond what you yourself can see?

Who puts your name in a sentence
with a smile, sailing it
on the rippled paths of rivers?
Who tells you what you could be
instead of what you are not?

Who gives you each day
as a gift meant to be shared?
Who reflects your eyes into the vast
silent sky and never questions
the validity of their light?

Who holds you together
and echos your voice across the void,
vibrating through your bones
until they are centered
in its starstrewn tides?

Who hums you the moon?
Who is always waiting no matter
where you go or what you do
to welcome everything about you

For earthweal, where Brendan poses the question: What is this wild language in the deep forest back of our mouths? Mine is evidently riddled with more questions.

if the circle opens, will it become a line? (#2)

The Oracle’s message today reminded me of a collage I had done awhile ago. When I found it, I stole the title as well as the image. You can read the original here.

if I can remember
the color of myself

naked    foolish    magic

will my broken breath open
and ask for the air I need
to see voices
sailing on a vast listening
of oceans surrounded
with life’s slow sacred rhythm?

As usual, the answers are elusive.

How Now

grid flower close up 1s

Why do you ask me where we are? 
I lost my bearings long ago. 
Each day is different, and yet very much
like all that have been or will be, amen.
You ask me for maps, for calculations, but 
why not shower the world with devotion?

~and why should we not sing~

celebrating what is here and now
but also what leaves and then returns? 
Every story continues beyond its ending.
Why not follow it around?
Why not grow wings, meet each day
without imprisoning it in either space or time?

The NaPoWriMo prompt today is to write a poem that poses a series of questions. Since the majority of my poems ask questions, I also incorporated Merril’s dVerse prompt to write a puente.

Who sings in the deepest water in the abandoned lagoon?

the deepest water s

I climb my thoughts of you
into skies that are forever
into air that leaves me gasping

Into a dizzy unconsciousness
that transforms itself endlessly
into not me but someone else

Who has grown wings, who floats
on waves that go through me
and drown me and carry me
everywhere all at once—

Who are you? What is this song
that vibrates through my being
and paints all of my surfaces
with continuous magical surprise?

the deepest water close up 1s

Laura at dVerse is highlighting the questions of poet Pablo Neruda, asking us to take one of the selected lines from his work “The Book of Questions” and make it our own.  My poem (which was inspired partly also by Neruda’s love sonnets) is a reworking of one rejected by The Ekphrastic Review for a piece of artwork by Barbara Danin (which you can see here, or by looking at the poems Jane Dougherty posted for Danin’s painting here).

the deepest water close up 3s

The collage is a combination of Danin and Neruda, one of my favorite poets.