The first part of this one went quickly, but the Oracle made me work for the last 2 lines. Only when I decided to see if I could make the word “illusions” would She let me complete it. “Life is but a dream” or so they say.
sleep whispers
in tongues of blue mist–
as if moons
seadream light
though shadows above still water–
illusions of time
to belong
is a feeling–not
words over
heard in pass
ing, but a garment to wear–
it keeps you warm, this
chorus sung
by many voices–
it tells you
how to clear
your self, opening to be
come filled, become found
Sarah at dVerse shared with us once again the paintings of Fay Collins, and asked us to write to what we see in her images. I did not pick any particular landscape, but used the entirety of her work as inspiration for both my words and my watercolor, which reflect her immersion in and love of the earth.
Also linking to earthweal, where Brendan has asked us to praise what matters.
You can see the work of Fay Collins here.
I could not
look at it from be
fore or aft
er, only
the angle of gone, dissolved,
empty, vanishing–
not just the
material thing
that had been
dispossessed,
but what it represented–
a piece of myself,
never to
be recovered–and
here I am
left watching,
clinging to impermanence
like water and wind
“The Kick-About prompt of souvenir seemed perfect: my daughter had given me a small sketchbook, and every day I sat on my beach chair with my feet in the waves doing a drawing, and then writing a haiku to accompany it. The sketchbook would be my souvenir.
On the last day of my beach vacation the ocean was quite rough, due to Hurricane Henri passing by, so I sat far up on the sand, where only a small piece of a dying wave occasionally brushed my toes. Holding my sketchbook up to let the watercolor pencil drawing dry I was suddenly totally upended by a rogue wave that covered me completely. I stood up, soaked, clutching my pencils in one hand, but watching my sketchbook being pulled under and out to sea.
I will replay that image in my mind for a long time, maybe forever.
When I got home, I channeled my emotional turmoil into neocolors, drawing from memory the ocean that was now fixed in my mind. The sketchbook drawings were so much more beautiful though. At least that’s how I’ll always remember them.”
For dVerse, where Ingrid asks us to attempt “writing your way out of a place of pain“. I drew it first, then I wrote.
phantasma
goria exposed
by shadows
dissolving
into borrowed wings eclipsed
by casting out light
I’m behind a few weeks on posting my contributions to the Kick-About, but this is the most recent, a collage inspired by Sheila Legge’s Phantom of Surrealism, above. Masked in roses, she was photographed in a white dress and gloves, surrounded by pigeons in Trafalgar Square, a performance inspired by a painting by Dali.
I was drawn to the statuesque quality of the photo, particularly given the location, and I can never resist using birds in a collage.
And of course we all don our own masks–some are just more obvious than others.
I had written my own poem earlier in the week, but since the anniversary of 9/11 is on a Saturday, I also consulted the Oracle. We are both feeling the shadows and the ache.
ghosted, these
ruins—shadows left
imprinted
on this day–
each returning resurrects
the ache of absence
beneath blue skies
death shows up
raining red
the day lives raw
our dreams ache
with rust and blood
language is shadowed
as if love
will never be recalled
music whispers
on the wind
through still light
the landscape
pauses, quiescent–
waiting on
the edge of
movement—no time passes here–
framed in memories
Colleen’s #TankaTuesday prompt this week was an interesting one–
I chose shadorma. How to change it? I had noticed before that all the lines had odd numbers of syllables, so I added one syllable to each line, to make them all even.
landscape pauses,
quiescent, waiting on
movement’s edge—no
time passes here–
a stilled photograph of silence–
time framed in memories
Thinking of a name was difficult. Shadorma seems to be totally made up, although several people noted the similarity to the word shadow. So I decided to pick a name with a beginning from light. I ended up with Liala, because I like the sound of it and the repetition of the a ending. It’s evidently a girls’ name but I could find no meaning for it.
There is a subtle difference between the odd and even syllabled poems, but I’m not sure which one I like best.
The photos are cropped versions of panoramas composed by my older daughter from photos she took in the mountains of Arizona where my father requested that we spread his ashes. My mother did not make any request except to be cremated, but we managed to find the very same place to spread her ashes years later after her death.
sleepless I
reach deep skyward, wish
ing for wings
to appear–
my hand pauses, empty, catch
ing only moonlight
Colleen chose me to provide this week’s #TankaTuesday image, and I sent one of my artworks, above. I always enjoy reading what others see in what I’ve created. I haven’t done a shadorma in awhile.
I went back to the original post with this image, which was in 2016, to see what I had written (a san san based also on another poem), and used it as a starting point for what I wrote.
rooted red
the colors spill out
confettied
above ground
dancing towards the sun singing
a chorus of blooms
Last year I participated in POPO the August POetry POstcard Fest–where the challenge is to send a different postcard with a poem you’ve composed for each day in August, 31 in all. I meant to post 2 cards every few weeks and finish up just before POPO 2021. But in my usual fashion, I’m only now posting the third pair.
I decided to do shadormas, as they would fit easily on the back of a postcard, and to connect them through repeating part of the last line of each poem to the first line of the poem for the next day. The last line of the poem from day 4 was “visible, rooted”
a chorus
of absurdity
reaches for
the empty
mind to fill it with visions
of nothing at all
I did not have a theme for the actual postcards I made in 2020, but this year I’m going to continue with the moon photos I did for the Kick-About. You don’t need to make or alter your own postcards, though–at least one I received last year was just a post office postcard with a poem on it. Or you can just buy 3l postcards and write a poem on the front or back or both.
A number of people last year expressed interest in participating this year, so here’s the link if you want to sign up. It’s not only a fun creative challenge, but you end up with 31 interesting postcard poems from all over the United States and the world. Twenty days until registration closes.
And here’s my original post with a photo of some of the postcards I received. They actually trickled in for several months afterwards.
K. 