blessings

blessings s

consider
the reckless places
hidden in
hearts, shining
like newborn constellations
exploding the dark–

pulled apart
by merciless force,
undefined
gravities–
adrift in the orbits
of recurrent night—

what creates
these seas of hope?–light
ships sailing
on longing–
circumnavigations of
storms searching for ports

blessings close up s

A shadorma chain for Colleen’s #TankaTuesday words, grace and style, inspired by Amaya at dVerse, who asked us to think about birth.

blessings close up 2s

I’m definitely a storm searching for a port at the moment, so I’ll be around irregularly for awhile, but I won’t completely disappear.

From One to the Next (Part 2)

lunation s

She talks to
me but the voice casts
no words, just
spinning the
same sounds over and over
without an ending.

All at once
she disintegrates,
becomes air,
a shadow
overlapping itself with
illumination.

She seems lost
in a space beyond
time—alone
she dances,
an untamed ocean dazzling
color into light.

Bjorn has asked us at dVerse to try changing our point of view–I took a poem from 2018 written in first person and became the observer, watching the original narrator and attempting to describe what I saw.  I think I observe situations and animals or landscapes in poems sometimes, but not often actual people, because it definitely felt awkward.  Still, I think I managed to keep the original feeling.

lunation close up s

You can see the first version of this poem here.

 

self portrait

self portrait comp

Once again
I study the lines
on this face,
reflecting–
depending on the angle
both parents appear.

At different
ages both of my
daughters looked
like I did
in those black and white photos
I inherited.

How do we
become who we are?
cells that form
shapes of hands,
a certain transcribed motion–
time in a mirror.

Ammol at dVerse has asked us to write a portrait poem.  In the past I’ve done a series of self-portraits in the style of other artists (with poetic accompaniment), but in this case I just took 3 recent drawings in my own style, an occasional morning exercise.

hand s

I also like to draw my hands.

 

(lost) treasure

lost treasure s

each season
knows that its costumes
must be re
moved, decay
ing all at once to fleetingly
encircle the end

the old sub
tracted, the new feigns
silence as
it changes
into breath—colors conjured,
spilled, yielding to time

recrossing
the same distances
to return
to waiting,
awakening—each day be
stowed, ripened, revoked

A shadorma sequence for Colleen’s #tankaTuesday words, fall and give.

lost treasure close up s

The nights here are cool, but the days are still mired in summer.

blue horizon

blue horizon 1s

awaken
 into the morning–
feel the wind
sleepwalking
in time with the sun as it
rises restless, veiled–

Unable
to become other
than yourself,
follow the traveling waves–
calling to the birds, singing
each branch into green

A shadorma chain for Colleen’s #tankaTuesday inspired by the photo, above, chosen by last month’s winning poet, Jane Dougherty.

blue horizon 1 close up s

Also linked to dVerse, Open Link Night, hosted by Lillian.