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.

the answer to all of your questions

the answer s

it is not
forever not
everlasting neither
early nor late–
it is not never
not now

it’s located where
it can’t be seen
but it is not lost–
just somewhere
that is nowhere
or perhaps elsewhere

it’s a series of endless
clues in a game
without an end–
a spiral upended
down into
bottomless time

whereupon
it returns
from nevermore
to anywhere–
ending up as
it began–wherever

A poem using the repetitive technique of polyptoton, the challenge from Frank at dVerse, for Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, above.

the answer close up s

I tend to use a lot of repetition, but not exactly in this way.  An interesting exercise.

 

Parameters

parameters s

The Other becomes objectified–
the truth barren, ruptured, hollow–
the path clogged and narrowing–
the pieces shot, scattered,
abandoned—the heart
fallen empty,
divided,
broken—
lost

A nonet for Colleen’s #TankaTuesday words, empty and space.  There is so much of it that needs to be filled these days.

parameters close up s

I had a vision for this watercolor, but the paint had its own ideas.  Obviously acquainted with the Oracle.

 

turn turn turn

turn turn turn s

Every year fall foliage surprises us with its clichés. Fibers yellow on the edges, becoming brittle and brown. Scarlet fire burns itself into a colorless ash.

Memory preserves the departed colors, waiting in darkness.

We have been to this place many times before and yet still it catches us, wheeling us with the wind. Time contracts, translating itself into a hidden refuge, a seed to hold and protect through the long nights.

Life turns inward now–
sleep opening like the wings
of migrating birds

turn turn turn close up s

For Frank Tassone’s #Haikai Challenge #107, fall foliage.