A gogyohka for Frank Tassone’s ‘smouldering’ challenge.
not water in movement
the surfacing of a fish cool boughs shading
this air is brittle
smouldering with sun-fire
An achievement worth celebrating, that giant step, the impossible dream realised. Yet closer to my heart is that first step on the trail of tears, the bamboo raft setting out across the world ocean of a flat earth, the hundred mile walk across a desert carrying a sick child, cattle trucks rattling to foul death, all journeys of a lifetime, a death, an inspiration.
in undisturbed dust
reminding us that where we tread
a trace remains—
This satirical piece started as the response to a twitter prompt (the final stanza).
There are so many sights, routes to travel,
So many trinkets to buy,
Before it all starts to unravel,
And the acid clouds cover the sky.
One day there will be no more ice caps,
No picturesque polar bears, so
Get in there, take plenty of great snaps
To post, for why else would you go?
That fabulous beach, a rare dream treat,
Where fishing boats sailed close to shore,
Before it was covered in concrete—
Fishing’s not allowed anymore.
You locals can wait now at table,
Serve pleasure to foreign folks who
Globe-trot as much as they’re able,
But back home they won’t have folks like you.
We can fly to far-flung reaches,
Leave our very own trails in the sky;
We can walk on exotic beaches,
Gather memories so when we die
Our mark will live on in the bruises
That poison the air and the sea,
And the waste from our luxury cruises,
Monuments to the lands of the free.
The Oracle’s message was clear and sustained this week.
Give me your lips, red sails filling,
come with me over the night ocean,
let its waves bathe us in fire,
lie among glassy billows at the heart of time,
rise slowly to the dancing stars.
Meet me where roses fall and blood boils
in a crucible of light,
swim with me over a rain-filled sky
where an unseen sun sings,
listen to the sad whispering
of a restless sea beneath a red moon,
Through this night,
follow where love leads,
listen to the birds sing the dawn,
watch how the earth wakes,
and walk in the quiet light
I came across this painting on Wikimedia , Storm on the Great Hortobágy, and found it fascinating. The white long horn cattle, the shaggy Hungarian sheep dog, the great river plain, and…. the sailing ship.
white speckled with cattle
and the river rolls.
Long horns watch the painter
herd dogs bark
through their corkscrew curls.
Broad plain speckled with white
and the sky thronged with grey
Herd dogs bark
long horns raise their heads.
blue sky in the river,
white horns listening and in the distance
Herdsmen shatter the placid plain silence
with barked orders
corkscrew curls bounce
dogs weave in and out of white legs
and white specks of cattle
roll into one single movement
and white light ricocheting
across the placid river plain.
and the plain sails on forever.
For the dverse prompt, a dizain. Another tough one.
High summer, golden sun, and brazen sky
Is scattered with the darts of narrow wings
Of swallows, forked of tail with piercing cry.
Black dots against the blue, their presence brings
As much joy as the song the blackbird sings.
And when the summer sun gives way to night,
Their arabesques are over, in their flight,
A pause. Beneath the flutt’ring sleepy eaves,
With folded wings they wait for morning light
To toss them to the sun like autumn leaves.
Artist by choice, photographer by default, poet by accident.
lines that aim to be
And then I stop and sit and eat.
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