Light is covered by the veiling,
Never gone, however darkened.
To its calling we must harken,
If we seek a smoother sailing.
Shooting stars with tails a-trailing,
Closer, closer now they shimmer…
Even as the light grows dimmer!
Let us see with mind and spirit!
Heart and soul, be always near it:
Light within forever glimmers!
—
Written for
Ronovan Writes Décima Poetry Challenge Prompt No. 41: (SHIMMER) in the C rhyme line.
Mary Oliver said, “Sometimes the great bones of my life are so heavy.” I really know nothing about her life, only her wonderful poetry. But judging by this quote, she must have known pain, suffering, fatigue, and even simply the common stresses of life in her time. Whichever it was, Mary knew and understood.
Perhaps she put this down on paper for herself, as a catharsis or release. After all, that’s one reason many of us write.
But reaching beyond herself, Mary Oliver’s words are still shared today, reminding us that we are not alone in the pain, suffering, fatigue, and stresses of life we experience.
I am grateful to writers, past and present, who reach out to let us know, in no uncertain terms: You are not alone!
—
My 129-word response to
dVerse Prosery: Bone Weary,
containing this Mary Oliver quote.
It uses the line, but doesn’t really fit the prompt, which requires a story with beginning, middle, and end.
Original Lyre Music
This is not a lyre.
It looks like one, if you know what a lyre looks like.
It has a rounded soundbox from which two arms reach to the sky.
One arm is shorter than the other,
but it has no disadvantage.
The top of the lyre comes to a point
that, on this one that is not,
faces away from the player.
From the point, the long arm slopes sharply toward the player,
almost like a sliding board.
Along this arm are tuning pins.
You guessed it–
the strings are attached to these
and tied to a bridge on the lower part of the soundbox.
Yes, it looks like a lyre.
Yet this is not a lyre.
It is a music box to say the least,
a magic box,
a mystical box,
the bottle containing
the alchemist’s elixir of immortality.
It won’t make you immortal.
But think about it.
Would you really want to be
immortal, ever remaining in your current form?
I didn’t think so!
But the music
of the mystical,
magical,
musical box
can lead you
to your immortal soul.
This is not a lyre,
but you might misconstrue its unassuming form,
if you didn’t know better.
But you, dear reader,
know better!
This
is not
a lyre…
—
An object poem for
dVerse.
O life can ever pull us down
And shake our moorings, rock our boat.
But somehow we can stay afloat!
We find a sudden path to ground;
We’re battered, bruised, but haven’t drowned!
And that’s the reason people say,
“Where there’s a will, there is a way.”
Despite hard times, it must be true.
There is a way for me and you.
So let us lift our sails of faith!
—
Written for
Ronovan Writes Décima Poetry Challenge Prompt No. 40: (FLOAT) in the B rhyme line.
When we are wise enough not to be foolish,
And compassionate rather than cruel,
We’re apart and together
Through the withering weather,
And we question our answers to prove them.
—
Written for
MLMM Saturday Mix: Opposing Forces.
How we push and we press and we shove
To suppress all our negative stuff…
And each time we do that,
We are not really flat…
On the contrary: We must erupt!
—
Written for
#Threethingschallenge #480: Stuff, push, flat.
To everyone who posts a daily prompt like this, I give you my thanks and admiration! I appreciate your dedication, encouragement, and inspiration, even though I can’t participate every day. Thank you! ❤
Thunder
before the rain
told all to stay inside.
Of course, not everyone obeyed…
Distraught.
Salvaged
after the rain,
with the coming of dawn,
the bright-shining symbol of a
new leaf.
Our own
Garden of Eden,
where perhaps no storms rage,
only exists eternally
in Light.
we find
matcha for tea,
giving thanks for supply;
respecting, taking what we need
to live.
Dragon
of avarice
is fed by humankind…
Yet we always have the option
]to choose!
Black tie
around his neck
chokes off the serpent’s greed.
And Light is always here, beyond
false dark.
We live
in half-and-half,
Light and dark together.
Which we see depends on our own
seeking!
—
My response to Linda Kruschke’s wonderful
Chance Cinquain Paint Chip Prompt!
There are times when we could all use a filter, especially when we feel tired and run down or in pain.
Maybe it’s a coffee filter; these days it’s probably a mask, or even a mask with a filtering element.
Whatever you use and whatever you need, I pray that yours is a filter of hope!
Not to prevent hope–oh no–but to prevent some negativity from entering your heart, mind, soul, and outlook!
Here is a medley of two pieces I composed years ago, “Hard Times” and “Hope.”
May this meditation with zither, alto recorder, and Oriole soprano recorder be a hopeful filter for you during these difficult times!
—
Written for
#SixSentenceStories: Filter
and
Tale Weaver #310: Tired and Run Down.
Each thought is a dab on the canvas of life,
Expressing and coloring sweetness or strife.
It’s something like nothing within our control–
And thinking affects body, mind, and our soul.
O artist, choose carefully, consciously, wise,
While daily creating your portrait of life!
—
My Quadrille in response to De’s “dab” prompt at
dVerse.
Simple in nature
Yet difficult for people,
To release… Let go!
—
Written for
Ronovan Writes #Weekly #Haiku #Poetry Prompt #Challenge 340 Release and Simple.
Mystical Strings 
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