to recur,
move further away–
becoming
mote covered
constellated skies, stories
embroidered in blue
darkness fades
into emergence–
the tides of
return shaped
by manifestations of
ghost ships left unsailed
indigo
currents bridged between
symbol and
spirit—each
helix twisted round itself–
doubled, multiplied
For dVerse, a blue quadrille, hosted by Kim. The art is composed of two different painting experiments that accidentally fell on top of each other–I photographed them in a bunch of different ways, and added the blue with Photoshop.
I recently came across a video that talked about asemic writing, and using it as a prompt for extracting poetry from your unintellible scribbles. I decided to use Sue’s photo as a guide for my asemic composition, first using fine point markers in colors that echoed the landscape. I then freewrote what I thought my marks were trying to say.
After that I took watercolor pencils, dipped them in water, and wrote asemically again over the markers, blurring both. I looked at what I had written in my initial response, extracted some of the ideas, and formed them into a shadorma chain to go with the final composition.
When I saw Sue’s photo, the first thing I thought of was the traditional Scottish song “Wild Mountain Thyme”. Joan Baez did a famous version, but I think the one I remember most from my youth is by the Byrds. It’s been covered and reinterpreted by artists as varied as Van Morrison, the Clancy Brothers, and Ed Sheeran. I listened to a lot of them, but I really like this one by Kate Rusby.
A found poem from Longfellow’s “A Psalm of Life”, the theme suggested by Pat R. for Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday. I’ve constructed a shadorma with the help of the Collage Oracle.
“…Lives of great men all remind us We can make our lives sublime, And, departing, leave behind us Footprints on the sands of time…”
be not like
time—fleeting, mournful,
pursuing
fate—within
each bivouac is a dream–
heart sailing the soul
I do not
know this body—is it
mine? It does
not obey
the years that hide the past—it
unravels like lies.
It tries to
pretend, believe in
what never
was—always
the wrong age for the face I
imagined, the face
remembered
by the self I thought
secret—now
I stand exposed–
a silhouette seen in the
doorway of the night.
I tried something a little different with my collage for Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, above. I used a generic thank you card I had received in the mail for a donation as a base, and decided to go over the edges and make a kind of diorama with it.
