Thursday, January 31, 2013

Summer Flowers, Winter Snow

I am going to be absent for awhile, friends and readers, due to some minor health issues. Nothing to worry about, but it's just not possible for me to spend a lot of time on the computer at the moment. I hope to be back soon, but till then, here are some garden pictures to look at. Thanks to everyone for their readership and support, and may summer flowers always bloom through your winter snows...

Rosa meidiland "Magic Meidiland' also known as Cthulu

Canna 'Dawn Pink' and Daylily 'Destined To See'

Zinnia 'Violet Queen'

Canna 'Richard Wallace'

photos (c) joyannjones

Tuesday, January 29, 2013

Moon Song

Salagou by moonlight
Moon Song

The moon sang the sun out
but not for long.
You spread my hair over
fever chills like a paisley shawl.
Your tears ran down my face
a spirit veil, wet lace.
Your lips walked
from one corner of my town
to the river's edge
while your broker's eyes
asked always for 
the goods I didn’t have.

Your hands stamped
the passport of my spine,
chased silver the leaves of
dove occluded sky. Dawn placed
the rose grey seal. And so we boarded; 
one life parted from the next,
in fire, then ash, blown across
the guarded border, where
whistles shrilled and every flag blew out.
On a planet where rocks dreamed
the sun sang out the moon,
but not for long. 

~January 2013

If you'd like to hear the poem read by the author, please click below:

Image: Salagou by moonlight, by Petteri Sulonen, on flick'r
Petteri's photostream
Shared under a Creative Commons License

Thank you, Petteri,  for the use of your work, illustration and inspiration, as always.

Saturday, January 26, 2013

Xmas At The Xroads

Same to you

Xmas at the Xroads

From the roof,
the stone kicked over the edge
is invisible.

You should never have made the mistake
of putting me in such
a shallow grave,
where I could still hear the goatman
blow blues sax in the christmas cards,

see the monster truck, 
dirtyred with primer,
smeared with tiny reindeer
towed from the wreck of a seventy-six sleigh
pileup on the lost highway.

You should have taken
the time to speak the words
to keep me from walking (or
at least buried me
at the Xroads)

because when Miss X (the prickly Virgin)
slammed metal door number nine on
the announcer's chickeny neck
rather than pick which one might open to glory,
the building got ugly-empty.

Your Xmas lights
just made it look cheap.
All the tinsel stuck to
all the hard work you stole,
all the blueprints gone toxic;

no one could save it,
so that the roof 
invisible as a stone.

~January 2013

Posted for   Poetics   at dVerse Poet's Pub
Brian's grabbed the mic today to get us to tackle the topic of mass media, mass communication, etc. I think all my regular readers know just how much I love the Xmas season, so that was where I went. 

Images: Same to You, by lalawren, posted on flick'r
 shared under a Creative Commons License

Wednesday, January 23, 2013

In Hel's Hall

In Hel's Hall

It was white-ice morning in Hel's Hall
in the ninth of the Nine Worlds, when
Odin donned the Hel-shoes, cast the runes
and rode to ask his questions of 
the dead. 

Because he was a god, twisted she rose 
from her ashen bed
and by force began to speak  
of what she knew:

So I found, said the blackened lips,
that cold is a serpent that holds, pushing its
ribbon-chest deep into mountain,
slow-cracking the heads of the spirits within
for gold to brighten its rippling scales.
Will you hear more?

So I saw, moved the fleshless jaw,
cold grow wide and thicken,
putting on its grey-white armor,
that its dead mouth kisses every shoulder, 
that the tree it circles
will shake down a harvest of lives
to grind out all you love.

So I found, rattled the dustdry throat,
that cold will make red daggers, hanging
scarlet borrowed blood to temper
oblivion's poppy snowflakes,
to pierce the heart of hearts
till red and white alike
vanish from sight.

So I saw, whispered the husk of Hel,
that snow will cover fire, 
that the white wolf no sword can kill
will eat desire, that you
are a basket of bones made for wildflowers
withering in a wind of empty hours.
Will you hear more?

Then the One-Eyed shucked his Hel-shoes
jumped back in Sleipnir's saddle,
and fled the Ninth World, 
where the wisdom he begged
had frozen on his tongue.

~January 2013

 posted for   real toads

Kerry's Wednesday Challenge: Worldbuilding
Kerry O'Connor has asked us to write around the subject of alternative worlds. Here I've reached into the the realm of Norse myth, and as usual, taken a few liberties with the tales of the Old Gods.

Process notes: In Norse mythology, Hel was the realm of those dead who had not died in battle, and also the name of the female figure who ruled it. It was where Odin the One-eyed, first of the Aesir and god of poetry, war, death, wisdom and wandering, journeyed to raise a dead Seeress to tell him of the future. She prophesies the events of Ragnarök,* the twilight, or perhaps re-making, of the gods, where the children of the antagonistic god of disorder and mischief, Loki, the Midgard Serpent and Fenrir the Wolf, will battle the gods, and the World Tree will 'shake and groan.' 

Hel-shoes (helskór) were put on the Norse dead to walk the road to the Otherworld.
Sleipnir is Odin's magical eight-legged horse.

* I probably ought to add that following the events of Ragnarök, the  völva also prophesies that a beautiful new world will emerge, where men and gods live in peace and plenty. Some believe that this a post-Christian introduction, but regardless, it satisfies the happily ever after need we humans have.

Image: Odin Rides to Hel, by W.G. Collingwood 
Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons