Stretching over earth and sea and sky,
Asking questions, singing answers;
Holding all our “why’s”.
Body, mind and Spirit taking part,
Rising to crescendo, FORTE!
Let it fill your heart.
The songlines draw each life a brilliant art!
—
A musical-themed Sevenling for
DVerse.
The scent of pages takes me back
To story time when, as a child,
I reveled in the sound of tales
Of lands far off and friends nearby.
The pages turn and years, they pass,
But even still my nose can tell
The difference in the newspaper
Or magazine, and books loved well.
The scent of pages takes me back
To brighter days and better times.
I catch it now and breathe a smile;
The pages sent an open mind!
—
Grace is hosting Tuesday Poetics at
dVerse,
where the challenge is to write about “scent”. Though I can’t read printed books, I’ve always been drawn to pages–stinky newspaper, slick magazines, old, well-worn books with cracked covers… I knew them all, both by touch and by scent. I still love paging through a book, not to read, but to take it in and remember there really is a world of possibilities right here!
Ouch! How the thorns of life impress their mark;
Impacting like a traitor in the dark!
A bleeding wound that never seems to heal;
With all the replays, blood cannot congeal.
Too overwhelmed, forgetful in the pain..;
Take heart! The roses always bloom again!
—
I’ve come to enjoy this, the Quadrille at
dVerse,
where Björn is hosting, and today’s word is “rose”!
There is power in ev-e-ry word,
Or at least, that is what I have heard.
But believe it or not,
Those who told me forgot!
And the speeches they preach are absurd!
—
Written for
dVerse,
though I’m not sure it qualifies. The meter is fun, like all
Limericks,
and a nice break from my usual, more serious meter and subjects!
I am the sculpture;
I’ll come right out and tell you that.
Which one?
I can’t say, because you don’t really care.
I was stone before I became this statue.
I am still stone.
And I will be stone even thereafter,
If (Merciful heavens!) I am chiseled to bits.
I told you I am the sculpture,
But I lied.
Yes, I, too, can create a ruse!
How do you like that?
The same way you like it when people point at you
Or put you in their neatly labeled box
And say, “THIS is who you are!”
You are not THAT,
And I am not the statue alone.
Heck! I am not even stone!
I Am Life!
You don’t think so;
You don’t believe what I say.
But did you believe me then,
When I said I am the sculpture?
No matter.
You can have your opinions,
Thoughts,
And beliefs!
These are problems I do not have-
Opinions,
Thoughts,
Beliefs.
But I am still Life!
I was before the stone was.
I was before the sculpture was.
I am now,
In the stone and the rendered statue.
And I will be
Long after the sculpture is no more,
Long after the stone has eroded.
I am there.
But lest you leave this conversation all freaked out on me,
Let me come right out and tell you that
You are Life, too!
Stoned or not,
Oops did I say stoned?
Ha ha even the stones have a sense of humor!
Anyway, no matter the state
In which you find yourself, Grasshopper,
You are Life!
So live on,
For you are sculpture and stone,
Artist and observer,
Creator and creation!
Now step lively,
Rock the boat,
And live Life with the Spirit that You Are!
Oh, before you go?
Tell that painting over there
That it is still life, too.
Thanks!
—
For
dVerse | Poetics – Chisel Me a Conversation.
I had fun writing this!
Smiles spilling all around,
Saturating driest ground,
Calming down with softest light
Every fiery word that bites;
Laying in a bed of peace
Where Hope blooms with gentle ease.
And in the morning glow of Dawn,
We look and find new smiles have grown!
—
Another for
dVerse,
with thanks to Grace for her inspiration!
Abundance does our soul enfold,
But we’re forgetful in this world.
Such hardened hearts and trials tough
Show Everything is not enough.
The countless Enemies to blame
Perpetuate a losing game.
If love spilled out like human greed,
The currency would not be “need!”
—
A Quadrille for
dVerse,
where 44 is the magic (i.e. required) number of words, and one word must be a form of “spill”!
Instrument: Tempo – Seagull Excursion Folk Acoustic Guitar
(capo 4)
Soaring high above the clouds
Of chaos in my mind,
I know there is a song to sing
With words I cannot find.
I hunt and peck and try in vain
To force the music out
And feel the pangs of harsh regret
That feed the fire of doubt.
The time has come to let it go
And set the songbird free!
For only when the spirit soars
Can any songbird sing!
I learn to find the hidden nest
Of peace within my mind,
Where love consoles and lifts me over
All the thoughts that bind.
There are no words to look for here,
No melody to sing;
The music of this sacred place
The Spirit plays within.
So, take the time to let it go
And set the songbird free!
For only when the spirit soars
Can you, the songbird, sing!
Right click this link and choose “Save target as…” or similar to download. Feel free to share for noncommercial purposes only, please.
Songbird Sing Mp3.
—
“Poetics – The Music in You” is today’s prompt over at
dVerse.
Basically the exercise, for poets, is to write a song lyric instead of a poem. Read the post–I totally agree with the part about poems beaing “heard” in a speaking voice, while lyrics are not!
Most of you know by now that I’m a songwriter. However, this one is a song written more like a poem! It has melody, harmony, rhythm, and honestly, I think it turned out well! But you’ll notice it does not have a refrain or chorus. And it’s written in quatrains, those stanzas/verses of 4 lines. They rhyme, as most (all?) of my songs do. But it can be either read alone, listened to as a song, or both.
I hope you enjoy this. I couldn’t resist writing to this prompt, but the result is not what I expected! No, it is much better!
Also published in
Vision through Words
Prompted by
dVerse
The sorrow doesn’t hurt anymore.
The stabbing pain has gone.
I’m not wounded daily by your passing from this world.
But I feel it like a heavy weight
In my sad eyes,
A lump in my throat,
A burning in my chest,
A knot in my belly.
Sometimes I cry;
Always I remember.
It’s strange, what I miss most about you–
The things you taught me help me every day,
And I am left to wonder
What else you could have shared.
When I pull out my tools
To fix or build something,
My heart aches for your guiding hands,
Encouraging words,
The knowledge you gave me.
Someone else will teach me now,
But not the way you did.
And I will learn,
But from different people, in other times and places.
And my own hands will know the tools,
My heart will see the beauty in the fixed and newly created.
But right now they yearn for what they do not have.
And the laughter?
I can’t talk about that
Without crying.
I don’t even remember what you said.
I just know it was funny;
You always brought a smile to my lips,
A happy tear to my eyes,
A song to my heart.
I realize through the shifting sands of grief and time:
I still have this smile,
This happy tear,
The song you helped me write!
And I am glad!
I don’t always feel peaceful,
Yet I am at peace.
I am strong in the knowing
That you are here now,
As you always were
And ever shall be.
Yours is the Spirit of eternity,
The one that cradles and keeps me
As It still keeps you–
In a new form perhaps,
But no less present
Than when I could touch your hand and hear your voice.
You are the Light of the Ages,
The Love that turns this world,
The tides that move and remove.
You are life,
Abundant and free!
And you are here
In me.
–for Kenny
with the song,
Smilemaker
I didn’t know he was coming
Until it was too late to wonder
Whether I wanted him.
The ultrasound picture of a baby boy sealed the deal:
Yes, I wanted him.
I didn’t know it was time
Until it was too late to be afraid
And go anywhere else.
So, the bathtub was his birthplace,
And I was not afraid.
I didn’t know what would happen
Until it was too late to change
The court’s final decision.
Someone decided I should be the weekend mom,
And everything changed.
But I didn’t know it was time
Until it was too late to stop
Learning, writing, giving, moving.
I learn from others and myself;
I give my best in service to All.
So if something good comes out of it,
Is anything really a mistake?
Or just mistaken?
—
Written for the “mistakes” prompt at
dVerse.
I wasn’t going to post this, because it feels very personal. But it gives me courage to know I’m not the only one. My son, my divorce are not just mine; others have them and relate to them. Maybe this will help someone.
Mystical Strings 
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