A haiga for Colleen’s #Tanka Tuesday picture prompt, below, from artist Michael Seibt, chosen by last month’s poet, Diana Peach.
Inside the earth, it is always green.
What do I see with
out seeing? What sounds reflect
terra’s transcendence?
Green
watercolor
Parameters
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.
I had a vision for this watercolor, but the paint had its own ideas. Obviously acquainted with the Oracle.
turn turn turn
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
For Frank Tassone’s #Haikai Challenge #107, fall foliage.
severed
to set in stone–
the whiteness of marble
polished, glowing,
rendered with light
an image meant to be immortal
plundered and abused
by the movements
of men and time—
faceless and unlimbed now
the imperfection of decay–
reassembling beginnings
over shadows
of the end
Merril is the host for the dVerse quadrille, using the word “set”. I drew this Greek sculpture torso a while ago, and added some watercolor on top of the drawing. What remains of the original figure has its own beauty.
reconciliation
I am
always only
partway there–
I know what to avoid
but not how
to release what has departed.
I used to chase the seasons–
now I wait for what is given–
intangible substances–
the perimeter expands,
the sky is higher,
placed carefully in the interval.
The predictable
always takes you by surprise–
you can still retreat
but you can’t follow any forecast–
the combinations are secret
and without form.
What remains is reflection–
the transient continually rearranged
into something resembling a life.
For Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, above. Magpies seem to be one of those places where opposites meet. What we take away from them depends on what we bring.
Clarified
I’m not quite sure where this came from but, as always, the Oracle tells me what I need to hear.
Dreaming the mind into song
spirit finds blue light,
joins soaring voices sounding on wings–
Can I believe my luck?
The river dances away the tears
as time reflects music
laughing through the sacred language
of stars
(lost) treasure
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.
The nights here are cool, but the days are still mired in summer.
