Some Etheree-al Ramblings on The Moon

© Diana Matisz, All Rights Reserved. Used with permission.

Moon Storm

(An etheree)

So

the storm

finally

came. Lightning climbed

the tree backwards, head

to the ground, stars tumbled

down in sweet bright sips of light

and the moon rose, kicking off her

slippers of clouds, indigo heart of

 ocean in her palm, drinking stars for wine.

Dry Ice

(A Double Reverse Etheree)

Thru

clouded

sleet sweet lips

the  moon panting

hung her painted tongue

down    to  the  metal  roof

still  hot   enough to melt  hail

or jump-fry plagues of grasshoppers.

Her  rilling  drops  slicked  it with silver

moonspit,  gleaming blind white: ice for fire.

She made a glacier from a light pool, frost

from dry-iced steel. Skating on the shine,

spidery   light-wiggles   wandered

from  the lick of  moon  over
my clockwork hair, to my
 impatient eye,  so

 ready        to

dream  the

 freeze.

~July 2013

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Weekend Challenge: Etheree(al)

I'm hosting our challenge this weekend, which is to write an etheree, a ten line poem which begins with one syllable and ends with ten. I've done a regular one, and then I've put two of them back to back, with the second reversed, just for fun.
Thanks, Diana, for the use of your lovely photo.

Image:  © Diana Matisz, All Rights Reserved. Used with permission.

Diana's photography blog is Life Through Blue Eyes, her flick'r stream is here, and her Redbubble store, where prints of her work are available, is here.

Melancholy

© Chelsea Bednar

Melancholy

An Etheree

"'Westron wynde, when wilt thou blow, /  The small raine down can raine.
    Cryst, if my love were in my armes / And I in my bedde again!"

~anon, 16th century

brown

twisting

liquid knots

ashen sorrel

all tied with shadow

melting in the mind wrap

rolling up the bruise of stones

the soft erasure, tumbled cells,

skull's last tears, falling where earth swallows

the small rain that runs off a concrete heart

~April 2013

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Challenge: Interpretations with Margaret

The artist's eye of Margaret Bednar comes to help us examine the abstract, to attempt to write not from the visual, but from the felt, Thanks to her, and to the talented Chelsea Bednar for the use of her work.

 The Etheree is a syllable-counting poem of ten lines, beginning with one syllable, increasing by one syllable per line, and ending with ten. The invention of the form is attributed to Etheree Taylor Armstrong (1918-1994)