Treasure Hunt

This is a décima for Ronovan Writes’s current décima challenge: Gold.


A sailor sets out, brash and bold,
To venture into the unknown
Sea towards where his dreams have shown.
To find a treasure chest of gold.

His map is faded, brittle, old
Yet with great trust he starts to sail,
As nascent dawn makes the sky pale —
Adventure, not only gold, gleams:
Happy to be following dreams
Knowing that courage cannot fail.

Ronovan Writes Decima Challenge Image

Fond yet Melancholy Memory

At DVerse, for Poetics today, it is “Blue Tuesday.” I was inspired by this picture, which I took with an old friend several years ago (the poem says 5, but it turns out it was actually 6 years and 2 months ago):

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The blues of the view from the Huntington Beach pier:

Five years ago now, yet current they appear

The current of the ocean waves, greenish-blue,

Above horizon-line’s divide, cloudless sky, a lighter hue. 

 

It is the background of my smartphone screen,

Above which other blues, from icons are seen:

Apps like Facebook and the telephone cannot reach

Into the past, nor reconnect with that friend at the beach. 

To Exist Safely

Today at DVerse, we have prosery again. This is usually very difficult for me, so I rarely try it, but this week I want to try. 🙂 However, the given line, from Rilke, is challenging: “Only mouths are we. Who sings the distant heart which safely exists in the center of all things?” – from Rainer Maria Rilke, “Heartbeat.” I am also sharing this with yesterday’s Writers’ Pantry at PSU. I usually don’t share anything other than poems, so this should be fun.


There is something inside that must be spoken, before it eats its way out of its cage inside of her mind. She tries to find the words to express her secret, but with difficulty, for she can barely get any words out without shaking. She trips over those words, like stones in her path to freedom. Even the words that escape the prison of her lips do not seem to express fully what she means to say. Sadly she realizes, “Only mouths are we. Who sings the distant heart which safely exists in the center of all things?”

Continuing to tremble, as if trying to shake off the chains of the past, she hugs herself and feels the beat of her own heart in the center of her chest. It is the life inside of her, which is close and which has its own, wordless song. She takes a deep breath in and begins to speak again.

 

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Palinode

Although this is a bit late, when I saw that DVerse was challenging us to write a palinode for this week’s Meeting the Bar, I had to participate. I almost never write these, but they are special to me: Back when I was an atheist, I wrote three poems about how God probably doesn’t exist. After I became a Christian, I felt bad about it. Then, during the next NaPoWriMo, one of the prompts was to write a palinode, and so I wrote a palinode for each one of those anti-God poems, retracting their statements. It was a healing exercise for me, and when I read the story of Jesus and Saint Peter in John chapter 21, I was floored!

Today’s palinode has nothing to do with that, but I really wanted to share that background story. This is, instead, written as a response to the shadorma I wrote yesterday (click here).

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