And what if a hand
five-clawed, red and bloody,
scratched open the veil of the sky?
We could we see an omen, a portent,
or we could trace the streams of drifting sky,
running through its glorious fingers.
Tag: clouds
Come and play with the cloud people
I took this photo yesterday evening of these extraordinary clouds. Well, they look extraordinary to me. I’ve written several poems inspired by what I see here. If you want to borrow it to write a poem or a piece of prose, be my guest.
Against a sky deeper than any blue,
layered light and the still air of the cosmos,
sunlit darkness,
drift the cloud people,
the stories of flying horses,
Freyja’s cats, the winged and warlike.
We point a finger in awe, though there
are no flashing lights, lasers or the
clashing music of the wide screen,
no silver battle ships, racing
faster than light among dazzling
reconstructions of stars.
We pause in wonder,
children
at the dawn of time.
When purple
For the OctPoWriMo prompt ‘purple’.
When purple
after blue
and red
fading deep
night
and shadows merge
a deer
and the tableau lives
a moment suspended
dusk dawn daynight
distillation of hues
to make flesh
red leaves
fall and drift.
Ciel de traîne
A spring weather poem for NaPoWriMo. There is more ciel de traîne here, in French with English adaptation. I wrote it/them when we were still packing up to move. Seems like light years away.
Ciel de traîne
drag-net sky
meshes up swallow shoals in grey mists
and goldfinch flocks dart
hysterical with mock fear
in and out of leaf shallows.
Above the rain-damp fields
chains of clouds process
wild wind-driven.
There are no rocks to break this tide
only gentle tree tops
leafing spring green.
Rain blows
grey swirls
giboulées
I wait
for the inevitable gold to fall
through wind rents
fountain through blow holes
and transform this meadow
into a river of diamonds.
Gloomy day
Dandelions©Tommie Hansen
Cloud gathers above the lush green
water runs earthwards
rain spilling over sown seeds
dandelions
recall the sun biding
beyond the grey.
Where will we go when the darkness falls?
Where will we go when the darkness falls
And from green depths the ocean’s voice calls?
Are there safe places in city sprawls?
We could follow the swallow so swift
And hope for a wind, black clouds to lift,
But flight, narrow-winged, is not our gift.
Air and ocean are bound into one,
All are equal beneath the bright sun,
We’re left with our hearts, when all is done.
What can you see?
Another triolet inspired by nothing in particular except an effort to rise above the bongos beneath the window and the rumba over the wall. So no complicated poetry forms for me today, sorry NaPoWriMo.
What can you see through the gap in the cloud,
Is the sky still as blue where you soar on white wings,
Is the crash of breakers beneath as loud?
What can you see through the gap in the cloud,
Do our towers of steel and stone stand proud,
Though they cannot reach where the starlight sings?
What can you see through the gap in the cloud,
Is the crash of breakers beneath as loud?
Tanka: Clouds & Spring
This is for Colleen Chesebro’s Tanka Tuesday poetry challenge.
When spring blossom falls
we turn faces to the sun—
mud a pink carpet.
Reflected in puddles, clouds
colour of cherry blossom.
Microfiction: Beams
This 100 word story is for Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers, based on the prompt photo taken by her lovely self. Thanks, Rochelle 🙂
It was a strange morning with an electrical tension in the air instead of the usual spring energy. I wondered if there wasn’t a storm on the way. With a frown, my husband pulled over, stopped the car and got out. I followed him as he stomped into the field.
“What’s the problem?” I asked.
“That.” He pointed at the beautiful almost biblical sky, dark cloud silhouetted against a fierce light that streamed in broad bands of searchlight brilliance.
“So—”
His finger moved to the brightening hills that rimmed the other side of the sky. “The sun’s over there.”
How long will the clouds?
This cascade poem is inspired by the photograph taken from the train just before La Réole on the Garonne.
How long will clouds drift over in glory
The river, placid in afternoon light,
When the world has turned into darkest night?
Reach up to the burnished blue of the sky,
Touch the wind for its breath will soon sharpen,
How long will clouds drift over in glory?
Here in this moment of peace and still beauty
Is where I would live, where golden light falls,
The river placid in afternoon light.
All things will end, as geese leave the northlands,
Leave, so will we, but the dream will remain,
When the world has turned into darkest night.
