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Thoughts perhaps

For the last ten days or so I’ve been struggling to find a reason to keep on writing. It’s the time of year when death is uppermost in my mind, my mother’s birthday, the anniversary of her death, the festival of the dead and the start of the dark half of the year. Thanks to a friend insisting (nagging) that I don’t give up, I went back to the Oracle. I think the message is that some things don’t need a reason.

Forgive me if I don’t feel like ‘joining’ though, and have bowed out of the interactive scene. Hanging around on the margins is enough.

What follows starts with the eight square poem I wrote yesterday, leading into the Oracle’s response this morning. I have ended it with a coda of my own.

 

There is no more in these hands to

shape and form into butterflies,

no more music in the flute of

the wind. There was little of worth

and nothing to match the ripple

of stream or birdsong. Now I watch

the rain, the mist rising, sunlight

falling, and that must be enough.

 

Listen to the words in the wind that pours,

see how the ice grows red as fire in the sky,

fly in the face of the poison men spread,

and perfume the night with the scent of roses.

I will sail into this sky wet with stars (or is it rain?),

where the broken and the brilliant fish

their slow desires in the well of eternity,

where the morning wakes like thunder,

and your soft ghost of a smile

dances blue as the overwhelming salt ocean.

 

Wind blows sea whispers (from rock and wave)

across the skin of the sky,

rain sings in water shadows, purple and

black as a night far from the land.

I wonder if the moon is less than the sun

when she swims with dolphins through spray

petal light and creamed with foam,

and why I can no longer hold the elusive blue

and gold of twilights in my hands.

Is red the only colour of time?

 

These are questions few can answer,

perhaps the black pearls sleeping in deep waters,

perhaps pearls of moondrops falling in deep waters

or rain in puddles beneath a November sky.

Perhaps there are no answers,

perhaps they are the wrong questions,

but I will paint my thoughts in the sky

at the back of my head behind my eyes,

full of this sunset obscured by rain.

 

Too little time

Too tired to string the words
chivvy them into order

herd flock swarm midges they escape
into the bright air where warblers flutter

while I cling to the dying winter
wrapped in hopes fire-leaping.

The future is rushing too fast
my barque spins on the torrent
ahead the last cliff.

Pure Haiku OPEN to submissions!

Just a few days left to compose and submit!

purehaiku

Welcome back to Pure Haiku!

Our new theme is UNFURLING.

Please use this beautiful painting, Unfurling, by Elisa Ang to inspire you to write 5 haiku to submit by email before 28th February 2021 at midnight, UK time.

Take a really good look at the picture. I mean, a REALLY good look. Don’t just write about what’s there, write about what’s beneath the painting. What emotion or image or memory does it awake in you? Tell me something different about this picture. Don’t just rattle off 5 haiku with the 5-7-5 syllabic line structure. Really let Elisa’s painting speak to you. Then tell me about it, in your own words. Be different. Be aware. Be inventive! Use this image as a starting point for your creative flow…

You are NOT allowed to use the words LEAF, UNFURLING, UNFURLED OR UNFURL/S in either your haiku or the titles…

View original post 276 more words

Awakening

Something was born
in the flushed light of this morning
embraced the listening secret
that need never speak
fish-mute and as silver
moon-shining soft as first feathers.

Would we could we
make home in this woven grass nest
too big and damp for birds
with windows onto the slow painting
of landscapes tree-bowing
to the wind’s rhythmic urgings?

I remember times before
where ghosts walk now
they whisper

dance upon the green grass
dance away the dark into day.

Life and joy are not supine peaceful pleasures
but fierce as oceans wild as open skies
demanding as the voice of a newborn child.


I am posting the Oracle’s message to earthweal’s open link.