Day Off

IMG_2967 (2)

photo by Charley

Our days of release
are uninspiring,
dusty cotton gray.

I recline half conscious,
murmur my desire:
describe without descriptors
the roll of the pond,
the nod of the trees.

 

This is my half-poem challenge for Jilly’s August Casting Bricks Challenge.  To participate, find the link on the right-hand side of Jilly’s home page and read the directions.  All are welcome!

Dancing Girl

This deserves a second look. Don’t go into sing-song as you read this… pay attention to what’s happening in the wording.

purplepeninportland

Written for:  dVerse Poets Pub – Poetics:  Musical Muse  (posted by Mish)
Today for Poetics, I am asking you to choose some lyrics, preferably one line from a favorite song and grow your own poem from it. You are not limited to the original theme of the song. Instead, forge your own poetic path. Be serious or silly. Just be sure to highlight the line(s), giving credit to the song and artist.

She has diamonds on the soles of her shoes,
spotlight swirling as she moves–
dancing girl.

She glitters, she glows like a new moon,
only time she’s not consumed–
dancing girl.

Music lifts her to another plane
where she can put aside her pain–
dancing girl.

Now she’s spinning, a diamond top,
but avert your eyes when the music stops–
dancing girl.

(from Paul Simon’s, Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes)

https://dversepoets.com/

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Hospital Birth – Echoes

Childbirth-500x284

Source

Darkest hours                                    Labor pains

Patiently pacing                                Wanting to cuss you!

Dim-lit dawn                                      Not again!

Life-embracing                                  Celibacy!

 

Bald cry echoes                                 Push one more time.

Through the walls                            One last time!

First born child’s                               Placed on me.

Entrance call.                                     Precious life!

 

This is my attempt at completing Alison’s challenge for Jilly’s August Casting Bricks Challenge.  To participate, find the link on the right-hand side of Jilly’s home page and read the directions.  All are welcome!

 

 

 

Lady Flora

Gaston_Bussière_Nymphe

Nymphe by Gaston Bussière

Lady loved the plants’ light green
With flowers brightly red.
Her face angelically serene
Had leaves to shade her head.

Desert days, her stems unbent;
Life’s water through her flows.
Sweet-talking plants her days are spent.
Smiles’ light: the flower grows.

This is my attempt at completing Frank’s second challenge for Jilly’s August Casting Bricks Challenge.  To participate, find the link on the right-hand side of Jilly’s home page and read the directions.  All are welcome!

What Swimming Together Can Do

Symbiosis

What’s neither dry nor frozen hard
Makes circles red with bliss
And green takes form to guide and guard
Metamorphosis.

Who’s never foe with smiling face
But guards the heart with love
And love from other takes with grace:
Symbiosis

This is my attempt at completing Frank’s first challenge for Jilly’s August Casting Bricks Challenge.  To participate, find the link on the right-hand side of Jilly’s home page and read the directions.  All are welcome!

Before the Wind — a Pantoum

Privateer

Pinterest

 

We were born before the wind
as our fine canvas sprung taut.
‘Tis true our mates freely sinned;
our leaving left damsels distraught.

As our fine canvas sprung taut,
we sailed ‘neath a privateer’s flag.
To earn a fortune from ships we caught,
keeping finest silk down to ratty rag.

We sailed ‘neath a privateer’s flag,
something of which I be not proud;
though of our ‘ventures I willingly brag.
My mates were boisterous, uncouth and loud.

Something of which I be not proud;
‘tis true our mates often sinned.
Aye, my mates were boisterous… and loud.
But we were born, lads and lassies, before the wind!

 

Mish is hosting Poetics tonight at dVerse Poets Pub, and she’s given us a dose of the musical muse.

This actually played into my own d’uthers, because I’ve been looking for an excuse to write a poem based on a line from Van Morrison’s Into the Mystic.  However, for your listening pleasure, let me offer…

Forgotten Better Days (a [Re]Bop)

This is my attempt at completing a challenge Jilly
presented for her Casting Bricks August Challenge.

 

Smoke gathers round the rim of my coffee cup
remnants of the skirmish in my untouched bowl of cereal
your suitcase sits by the door, the new leather one
not the weary worn green canvas with tags from our trip
to Paris last summer
leaving me with a million

forgotten better days and a badly written play

 

Blurred words seep through the wall
you on the phone with some unknown
My absent mind sips backstory
the covert calls we shared – you and I becoming –
“chance meetings” for lunch lasting
well into afternoons bending together….
Now lifting the blinds on

forgotten better days and a badly written play

Wraiths converge
ghosts of “us” meeting at the door
offering you a final drink… myself
leather suitcase bars remediation
clasped hands, clasped handle, unclasped heart
turning away, turning the knob…. (exeunt to – )

forgotten better days and a badly written play

 

 

 

 

Postlude

jim-harrison

Jim Harrison and unknown associate

So… a little over a year ago, Jilly2016 and I began a challenge called, “28 Days of Unreason.”  It was based on quotes Jilly culled from Jim Harrison’s book of poems, Songs of Unreason.  This year we revisited it, simply calling it, “Days of Unreason.”  What a blast!  I’ll grant that Harrison’s poems aren’t everyone’s cup of pudding, but the quotes served as wonderful springboards into a pool of mind-stretching poetry.  I enjoyed the challenge last year, and enjoyed it even more this year!  Poetry gets tired, insipid without an occasional kick in the pants — whether from artwork, music, other people’s poetry, or an accidental bump on the head.

This is the final day of Days of Unreason, 2017:

“Why does the mind compose this music well
before the words occur?” – Jim Harrison

 

While the flute, the zither,
and the bowed saw still filled
the concert hall of his mind, Jim avowed,
“Unlike a lot of writers, I don’t have any craving
to be understood.”

Jim, the mind composes
to keep us writing;
thinking.

As long as the notes climb,
fall, slur, bend, blend
and create dissonance –

we are still breathing.

Let the eulogist pretend
she knows

the words.

 

 

Loss and the Forgetful Sun

Eclipse555

secretsinplainsight.com

(My attempt at finishing Imelda’s challenge
for Jillys August Casting Bricks challenge.)

Moon, lost in orbit
looking for its sun, I am
a gaping silence
devouring your memory
an altar of your absence

Sun, lost in myself
thinking all space orbits me
see your fleeting glance
as you slip behind the earth
now I’ve made you my center

Imelda began this challenge by writing the first part of a Somonka.   A somonka is a type of Japanese poetry framed in two tankas. It has love as the central theme and is a sort of a short love-letter exchanged by the persons involved.  The mechanics are as follows:

“The Somonka is:
• a poem in 10 lines, made up of 2 tankas.
• syllabic, 5-7-5-7-7 5-7-5-7-7 syllables per line.
• composed in the form of statement-response,
• often written by 2 poets, one writing the statement the other the response but a single poet can write both parts.
• titled.
• unrhymed.
• built around the theme of love.” (The information is from poetscollective.org, please click the somonka link to go to the site)

 

Pull

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photo by Charley

This is day 27 of Days of Unreason:

“It is life’s work to recognize the mystery of the obvious.” – Jim Harrison

 

The moon hangs –
has hung for eons –
over us, plainly…
obviously…
a metaphor, a simile, a symbol, an icon…
a cliché.

And yet songs are written,
poems are bled,
story lines are strung
from the everyday, run of the mill
moon.

We strive and struggle
to understand its sway.

 

The sun rises and hangs –

 

A little over a year ago, I joined Jillys2016 in a challenge called “28 Days of Unreason.”  She culled quotes from the poems of Jim Harrison in a book called Songs of Unreason.  We used the quotes as prompts; diving boards suspended over the abyss of poetry.  Jill is revisiting unreason, and I am skipping gleefully along.  Come and join the fun!