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):

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.

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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).

A Gift

I didn’t write very much today, but even a busy (in a happy way) day will not hamper my posting at least once per day in April! This poem was partially inspired by this prompt about GIFTS. I am also linking with DVerse OLN today.

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As guiltless as when laid in manger-bed,
The Lamb of God, to silent slaughter led,
Amidst such shame, innocence underscored —
My thorn-crowned Lord.

At death itself He has mortally swung,
In my own high-walled life, Jesus has hung
Over my Jericho, a scarlet cord —
My thorn-crowned Lord.

It is a gift to see Him on the cross,
Although my heart does break at pain and loss:
I see He knows my pain, has love outpoured,
My thorn-crowned Lord.

What Was Now

For DVerse, a haibun about the present moment.

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Lungs continue to inflate. Outside, white clouds are Rorschach blots in a sea of sky. The neighbors’ cypress tree is leaning as the wind breathes. Lungs hold their precious breath as birds chip. Lungs let go: Exhale.

sunny afternoon
notice past preconceptions
a breeze — a shiver

This picture was taken when 11 months ago was “now.”

Hungry Birds

My family’s garden has been a frequent source of inspiration lately (and honestly almost every time I go out there), and it fit perfectly with PSU’s Weekly Scribblings prompt, “Bird is the Word.” I am also linking with DVerse OLN.

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goldfinch and friends cheep
perch and search among the plants:
empty bird-feeder

 

Poor birds. 😦 I still saw plenty of them, though.

Haibun for the End of March

A haibun for DVerse, alluding to cherry blossoms, also partially inspired by FOWC: Slight, but mostly inspired by my family’s garden.

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A warm afternoon at the end of March passes both languidly and much too quickly. The sky is blue, with no clouds blowing in the slight breeze. A monarch butterfly, black-and-orange wings majestic and beautiful flies — almost floats — nearly close enough to kiss the nose of an observer. The bird-feeders, filled for the first time in a long while, attract many other winged creatures, feathered things opening their hungry beaks.

And it is around now, when the cherry blossoms bloom at their peak.

Nature takes her time —
From the outside see Earth spin
Making us dizzy

Depression, the Boa Constrictor

Depression, the boa constrictor
Slithers on the ground around my feet.
I thought it was kept in its cage
But it has broken free.
The boa constrictor slithers
Up my legs, around my body, squeezing,
It is a rope without knots
And I am caught.

Kyrielle: The Past

This poem is a form called a kyrielle, for Linda’s paint-chip poetry prompt. I wrote this yesterday but saved the post for today. The paint chip words are below. I am also linking with DVerse OLN.

Enter the past, see its warm glow,
Its happiness when it begins —
Until it becomes a black widow:
The veil is tissue-paper thin.

It takes two to tango, this game
That every person is cast in.
Responsibility or blame?
The veil is tissue-paper thin.

In life, some events cause a blast,
Some future concerns make a din,
As present turns into the past —
The veil is tissue-paper thin.

BOOM!

Happy March 17th. This is another one for DVerse Poetics: “This being human…” and is also for FOWC: Vilify. Those prompts collided, and this poem exploded.