whitesmoke vapours
slither from a silver exhaust
drifting crystals churn
to a distant wind chime tune
secret fireflies dance
in a maelstrom of moonrain
gardens sparkle in champagne
while rent ghosts roam
dazzled by periwinkles
fractured on bisque pots
cutout whisper motes
float in between
mint and lady bugs
And so … an exhalation,
almost a sigh, a silent sigh,
anticipated moments pass,
a mic stands in the centre
of the theatre in the round,
an invitation to exhale, express
words with air,
to splash words onto a screen
with fingers
into a stream with bodies here,
some bodies over there, somewhere,
seen, read out loud, performed by other
tongues and teeth, silently consumed
like little quail eggs rolling
in your mouth,
and yet
a question still remains,
a lingering afterthought,
what is the collective noun
for poets, after all?
The first thing
I can remember drawing
was a bird, I wondered why
aeroplanes didn’t flap their wings …
I wanted to fly vast distances
sniffing out the rising air
just to remain aloft;
to look back to the ground
that grounds us all…
Hold my hand,
let’s step into the sky
all senses moving into one,
on frosty mornings
glide among the breathy clouds,
on summer evenings soar
the balmy eddies flowing off
rendered concrete walls …
Let’s fly
without climbing
into the belly
of a machine.
These lines are taken from Edgar Allan Poe’s and William Wordsworth’s wonderful poetry.
Solitary, clear, profound
Grains of the golden sand
Between the water and a winding slope
Were dancing to the minstrelsy.
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
A Whirl-Blast from behind the hill
Answering to the shouting Cuckoo
“Always write first things uppermost in the heart.”
And the silken sad uncertain
Rustling of each purple curtain
With altars undisturbed of mossy stone
Slowly settle into peaceful calm
Out of SPACE- out of TIME,
The harvest of a quiet eye.
an unthought hand
waves a stray feather -
it caresses
strings
of the wind
invisible
naked
undulating
like a cat’s tail
in the wind
listen
the vibrations
become electric
motions
caught on a nerve
to squeak
exquisitely
Linking up again with dversepoets.com for Open Link Night. Welcome and thank you for visiting.
Another poem using Jackie’s prompt words:
apple, statue, romancing, jumping, eating, moonstruck, rough, handsome, institutionalize, encyclopedia
The faceless clamour,
“We should institutionalize
all those who are found
romancing statues moonstruck,
those who were once handsome
jumping through hoops, now
sleeping rough, those who converse
with the stars sitting in groves
eating green apples and all
who dispute that which is written
in the official encyclopedia … “
This is my Interaction poem for the dverse prompt
.Diana Lee @Diana605 was the first to repsond to my call for 2 nouns, 3 verbs, 3 adjectives and 2 random words.
Here are Diana’s words:
periphery, wetlands/wept,drop,vanished/deafening,abundant,tender/river, rose
and these from Stefan Schutt
leaf, wall/ride, eat, reflect/brown, full, moving/life, artefact
so here goes ~
The wetlands gleam,
a tender rose leaf
floats languidly upon river,
a woman cloaked in ochre
is softly moving,
searching for an artefact,
now vanished
beyond the periphery
in the steppes now brown
where once a camel wept,
children ride their horses
searching for a place to shelter.
Along the east horizon,
abundant lightning prances,
as the thunder bristles to reflect;
a prelude to the first full drop
of deafening monsoon percussion …
The clouds spring to life,
the children take cover
in a tent, content to sit and eat,
listening to an orchestra
of rain …
The woman finds her talisman
shining in the river mud …
Form for All: Collage and the Art of the Cento
“A collage is an artistic technique, whereby a piece of artwork is assembled from fragments of art from numerous sources, creating a new whole.”
Here is my collage taken from WG Sebald’s “Rings of Saturn”.
1
I set off to walk in the hope of dispelling the emptiness…
under the sign of the Dog Star…
2
the colourless patch of sky
framed in the window,
a reality I feared had vanished forever
draped with black netting
3
the body is open to contemplation
this hand is most peculiar
Rembrant’s picture
proves on closer examination
more apparent then real
a transposition taken
from the anatomical atlas…
4
the white mist
clouds our brain
5
a grey, overcast day
soot up to the windows
the few passengers
sat in half light
facing the engine
so silent
6
From the footpath that runs
along grassy dunes
I have often found
tent-like shelters
along the pebble beach.
Out on the leaden-coloured sea
a sailing boat kept me company
motionless
7
i went to the edge of the cliff,
I was standing on perforated ground,
as it were, which might have given way
at any moment.
8
Far off in front of me
the rain clouds dispersed…
9
Darkness was falling
only the lighthouse…
still caught the last luminous rays…
10
Footsore and weary
I sat…
Shores
A lake of souls, unfathomed,
uncertain, gentle, without impatience.
I walk the shore, through rushes and mud,
a startled ibis rises, wingbeats deafen me.
Now, when ghostly waters press,
the swamp weeds choke me.
I left a skin there composed
of lost memories, mine and others.
Yet nothing composed is ever lost,
I have just forgotten in my impatience
and discord, ever after, obsolete
when nothing is all that’s left behind.
Sources of inspiration for this collage include Theodore Roethke, Raine Maria Rilke, Mary Oliver, Louise Glück, Adrienne Rich, and Jessamyn Johnson Smyth who developed this technique of poaching lines that ignite the imagination and playing with them to make a new poem. This is my offering for dVerse’s first birthday celebration of poetry.
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