I did have the NaPoWriMo prompt in mind today when I visited the Oracle. At least in terms of a song. My things are mostly in boxes, not drawers, at the moment–this is my third move in the last 18 months so it’s all junk now. I was also thinking how much I would like to just take an entire day and do nothing but sleep. Which led me to James and Joni. And the Oracle obliged.
all I want is to sleep beneath a still sky– a shadow of whispered light on water moondreaming the wind
“You were once wild here. Don’t let them tame you.” –Isadora Duncan
presence, breath, the mystery of the body– here and now, never once upon a time– wild eternity
full of what is—translating and transforming each step through the labyrinth that is you– synchronal, alive
This is a Kick-About prompt (the quote from Isadora Duncan) that I never posted. I had an idea to do collage illustrations, but the photos of Isadora dancing made me want to try to capture them in gestural drawings.
I haven’t used pastels in a long time, but I can see why Degas chose them so often to render his dancers. The body becomes transformed by dance, lighter and more transparent. Otherworldly.
For NaPoWriMo, and also linking to the dVerse prompt from Grace, The Body & Poetry.
“But nobody pointed out that the web itself is a miracle.” –E B White, “Charlotte’s Web”
how the sun multiplies dewdrops hovering on nearly invisible threads tiny iridescent pearls
scattered on paths that cross woven in waves that whisper with the breeze leaving sparkling trails like a fairy’s wand
releasing the magic of stars to the light connecting sheltering enabling this miraculous life
Today for Day 6 the NapoWriMo prompt says: Go to a book you love. Find a short line that strikes you. Make that line the title of your poem. Write a poem inspired by the line. Then, after you’ve finished, change the title completely. I chose “Charlotte’s Web” which has many many good lines to choose from.
Another shadorma chain, with art from the archives.
I consulted the Oracle this morning while thinking about Colleen’s #TankaTuesday theme chosen by Merril, immortality. I was surprised when I went to post it how it follows the Oracle’s message from last week–beyond to the great beyond. Although I am consumed, one might even say overwhelmed, by my moving tasks, as long as my computer is still assembled I will continue speaking with the Oracle on Saturdays.
black as death we say—but what lies whispering like wind like skyshadow singing through blue lightdreams and still seas?
remember the rhythm dancing dazzled with starsisters– embrace the open window– vast secrets flying
Too much and too little of everything, this disembodied crowd of kings and fools– the culmination of faith is a leap into the unknown– the spaces between are all that remains.
The details of life become blurred and distorted, fragments scattered into ghosts reflecting the collision of bottomless dreams and desires– too much and too little of everything.
Plans go astray, linger unrealized. The path is long and winding and there is no map — what makes us think we have finally found the truth? (this disembodied crowd of kings and fools)
Does only night reveal the secret of the star? The past follows us no matter where we go– how little is really necessary! The culmination of faith is a leap into the unknown.
The earth embraces us, teeming with life– what are we looking for? where do we belong? Will we recognize it when we reach our destination?– the spaces between are all that remains.
memories are woven into tales– time and space expanded and compressed—fragments scattered like ghosts of what is
no longer there—we know why we seek this thing– Divine Light– but there is no star, only an endless procession
escaping from its past—still we always come back again, repeating the well trodden paths of Holy fools–
and when our destination finds us what will we see? grace reflecting the gift of life? or the gold of kings?
I wrote these two poems (a cascade, and a shadorma chain) in response to a painting of the daylight travels of the Magi followed by multitudes of richly garbed men which was part of the Ekphrastic Review Holiday Challenge. These did not make the cut. But when I saw the Earthweal Challenge for the change we are, I thought they fit.
I know my prompt responses often seem to veer off course, and maybe this one is also in that category. Perhaps it stems from my sense of things not fitting properly in the world–myself included–which gives me a general inability to feel I am accurately responding to anything. But I also feel that’s where “we” are at this Solstice 2020. Changes are all around us, but it’s hard to find the proper light in which to tell exactly what they are.
Mid the woods, snowdusk shadows are spare–lovely but cold, dark, clinging like shaded brume and wandering silent and deep.
Drawn here but not belonging, I do not have promises of morning or an end to this vigil I keep
of if and beyond—all those miles now lost to me. I go in circles of before–I beg the night for sleep.
The Kick-About prompt this week was the last 4 lines of Robert Frost’s “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening”. I was struggling with my poem, a shovel poem (using the words of Frost’s lines as the last words in the lines of my poem) in the shadorma form, when Sarah at dVerse posted her prompt suggesting titles taken from “Surfacing” by Kathleen Jamie. The idea of traveling in the wilderness helped me find a focus.
I had already spent a long time fooling around with the art. The diorama I planned didn’t work out as I expected, but I liked the background paintings I did more than I thought I would.
Done on very wet rice paper, with black ink and silver and pearl metallic watercolor, they had much more of the feeling of Frost’s words than I expected. The diorama on the other hand, failed to match my vision, and I took 50 photos to come up with just a few that I liked.
Still I learned from the experience, including how natural light is much more blue than that from my drawing table lamp which has a yellow cast.
And I got a surprise in the monoprint that emerged from under one of the wet rice paper paintings which also seemed to capture well the feeling of my poem.