Sunday, May 31, 2020

Storm Rocket

Storm Rocket

The big storm comes, rattles
the latch of night, batters twilight
with its troll voice and god hands,
throws soil from a thousand raped fields
at my face, dry earth's stripped debris,
melted smell of dirt-charged void
electric as the ghost of your lips in the dark.
I'd wear it like a rocket, follow it, fly with it
to that other land where wheat sings to
the living earth, lightning is a dreamer's
 dance and storms sigh down
a cobweb of emerald rain;
but seventy years of hot wind
have made me small as dust,
a pygmy trapped in
this unbreakable
of pain.

May 2020

posted for The Sunday Muse

Images: Sky in Saskatchewan, author unknown, via internet  Fair Use
Rocket, by Brad Phillips   Fair Use

Friday, May 29, 2020

Friday Flash 55 for May 2020

Welcome all to this month's edition of the Friday 55. 

 The rules are unchanged; write a poem, piece of prose poetry or flash fiction on any subject, in exactly 55 words, no more, no less. Paste your link in the comments section, and I will be by to read what you have come up with.

The prompt will be live
from Thursday at midnight to Sunday at 4 PM.


Here's my 55:

Black Dog

The moon stopped talking
when you came
walking through catastrophes,
black dog that wouldn't mind
at your heel.

You couldn't stay;
I never stayed myself.
They thought they knew our best
but best's a savor

for shot-silk touch
the war of wills
the game without rules;

for those who meet breathing
and leave singing.

May 2020

Images: The Dog, 1819,  © Francisco Goya    Public Domain
Self portrait with a Black Dog, 1841,  © Gustave Corbet (manipulated) Public Domain

Friday, May 8, 2020

The Bird Alchemist

The Bird Alchemist

The Bird Alchemist 
was small and hero blue,
a most consummate
mountaineer of treetops,
aficionado of the woven twig,
knight-errant of the whipping wind,
fetching his lady favors
of jumping bug and thistledown
in the aquarelle skyscape
of implacable spring.

The Bird Alchemist
was more than his mask,
a Renaissance Bird of arts
and sciences, bearing the commerce
of reproduction for the rippling
sake of his mate's feathered belly
while nocturnal vigils teased him
with the secrets of all things; aloof
in his cypress lab, rocking spellbound
before creation's daft flicker, til

victorious he rose each dawn,
worms transmuted into song.

May 2020

posted for 
Kerry O'Connor's

and for earthweal's
(exploring Monday's theme 
of  the hero quest)
even tho earthweal is one of several word press sites that think I am spam

Note: Aquarelle is a style of painting using thin, typically transparent watercolors, traditionally created by applying each color thru a separate stencil, now more loosely used for the style in general.

Images : Creation of the Birds, © Remedios Varo      Fair Use
Aquarelle Landscape With Bird, © Anna Svennson on Instagram  Fair Use

Sunday, May 3, 2020



"...And a breath of lemon filled the vast moment/as the wind became a flower of gauze..."
~from Nocturnes from the Window, by Federico Garcia Lorca

I am behind the wall now
wearing red and a window.
I will be safe
if you see through me
only white sky, the almond tree
and grass.

I wore the mask til blood
stained through
the sting of a flower; it
told too much with its 
sibilant drip. That 
was not safe.

I am a camellia from
snow country, cut
at the stem, dying in aqua vitae,
a fragrance passing citrus
through your room. I will be safe
when the last petals
cover my cast off mask.

May 2020

posted for The Sunday Muse

I have also used several words from Kerry O'Connor's

Images: A Distant Future, © Raluca Caragea   Fair Use
Yellow Roses in a Vase, 1882, by Gustave Caillebotte, manipulated    Public Domain