watercolor

whalesong

blue whale s

whalesong magnetic s

When I saw what the Oracle had given me today, I went looking for an old post I had done on blue whales.  What I wrote six years ago is only more true today.

The blue whale is the world’s largest and heaviest existing animal. Hunted almost to extinction by whalers in the 19th century, it is currently endangered, like many other species, by habitat loss due to pollution and climate change. Toxic chemicals and the warming of the ocean disrupt migration and food sources, sonar disrupts whale communication, and whales also collide with ships and become entangled in fishing gear.

Humans have not been kind to whales.

blue whale eye s

A good, if depressing, compilation of whale and human history can be found in Philip Hoare’s book “The Whale”.  My review on goodreads is here:  https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/118181104

http://www.whale.org/
http://www.savethewhales.org/

Also linking to earthweal open link weekend.

ancient blue
spirtsong follows
deep moonpath

listen as
secrets breathe between
waterlight

the ancient shores of galaxies still call

printed geese 1s

I stand facing the ocean
tides of wing and air–
time fades into mystery,
emptied of illusions

sea sketch 2s

tides of wing and air
held in light–
emptied of illusions
I swim in dream languages

forms die s

held in light
horizon merges into skylandsea–
I swim in dream languages,
wordless songs that awaken stories

elaborate music s

 

horizon merges into skylandsea
consumed by rivers of stars–
wordless songs that awaken stories
mirrored in ethereal blue

ocean pencil drawing s

consumed by rivers of stars
time fades into mystery–
mirrored in ethereal blue
I stand facing the ocean

blue 2s

For earthweal, sacred (sea)scapes.  How many poems have I written about the sea?  As many as I have about birds and stars and moons.  This unrhymed pantoum contains lines from many of them.  The artwork is from my many previous ocean-themed posts as well.

around repeatedly

around repeatedly s

Wherein lies the origin of mystery?
Does any story have an ending
and can any name the place
where all stories begin?

All stories are branches
of The One Story, a circle
retreating and returning
reversing and rewinding
retracing and redirecting
repeating and renewing.
Each sentence orbits and spirals
inside and out again.

Where is the place between
before and after?  Is there
even a way to find
the location of no before?

around close up s

I spiraled off a bit myself from the dVerse prompt from Merril, revolution.  Blame it on the heat.

 

Summer Meadow

summer meadow close up s

visions of windsong–
waves play currents of magic
painting textured light

Inspired by the photos of Phil Gomm, I tried to recreate one of his beautiful fields.  I will need to explore this further, and of course, as always, I think it needs some stitching.  (I’ll add that in my spare time…)

summer meadow s

For Trank Tassone’s #haikai challenge #148 summer meadow.

It’s so unbearably hot here, it’s hard to find much motivation.  Con Ed keeps calling to warn me the power might go off due to everyone overloading the grid by using their air conditioners.  (I have open windows and 3 fans.)  They are promising us a break on Friday.

borderlands

borderlands 1s

time
distills
into the
slow motion of
half-forgotten hours–
astral sunsets emerge
inside the dense dazzled air–
waiting to join the fading light
that veils the edge between earth and sky

A nonet for Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, above, and Colleen’s #tanka Tuesday, with synonyms for blessed and hex, provided by Anita Dawes.

borderlands 2s

I did two  rorschach paintings which turned out slightly different.

wings 2s

But somehow I always end up with wings.

wings 1s

 

on the sands of time

on the sands s

on the sands of time

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…”

on the sands close up s

be not like
time—fleeting, mournful,
pursuing
fate—within
each bivouac is a dream–
heart sailing the soul