Tag Archives: Flame

Red

by
Red

Sisters Sun and Moon, detail by Lex Leonard

 

You’ll look pretty as a picture in this, Red.
Sun hides behind clouds longing to shine through,
except that she wouldn’t.

Unable to warm soil, words hinder
poppy sprouts anew.
You’ll look pretty as a picture in this, Red.

Memories held inside her frame injure.
She longs to break the glass of that view,
except that she wouldn’t.

A spark of flame leaves but only a cinder,
too dark to see what she really knew.
You’ll look pretty as a picture in this, Red.

His words she gathers unhindered
and places them carefully to later pursue,
except that she wouldn’t.

New moon gives rise for her to surrender
to stillness within safe solitude.
You’ll look pretty as a picture in this, Red.
Except that she wouldn’t.

 

 

Author’s Note:

Oh, the poetic form! It’s always worth a try.

From today’s NaPoWriMo challenge…

The classic villanelle has five three-line stanzas followed by a final, four-line stanza. The first and third lines of the first stanza alternately repeat as the last lines of the following three-line stanzas, before being used as the last two lines of the final quatrain. And to make it an even more virtuoso performance, Dargan’s alternating lines, besides being taken from songs, express “opposing” ideas, with one being about sleeping, and the other waking.

Following Dargan’s lead, today we’d like to challenge you to write a poem that incorporates at least one of the following: (1) the villanelle form, (2) lines taken from an outside text, and/or (3) phrases that oppose each other in some way. If you can use two elements, great – and if you can do all three, wow!

My lines are taken from a book I am currently reading. I picked it up, opened to a random page and pointed. There were the two lines side by side from The Great Alone by Kristin Hannah that just happened to be “opposing” ideas. I kid you not: You’ll look pretty as a picture in this, Red. Except that she wouldn’t.

Summer Solstice

by

SummerSolsticeMe

And there are lights…

That burn from wax of bees
scenting air with honey dreams

Skipping flames flashing summons
calling ancestors to assemblage

Far away glow in dark of night
assuring steps on safety’s rungs

Specks and dots, twinkling winks
unwavering star ones await our restore

But Solstice Light, the most generous
revelers ringed with sainted halos,
delight in dance and loosened laugh,
create and sing in joy inflamed

 

Author’s Note:

Today in PRISM we were given a drawing prompt called Shaping Consciousness. To begin we were to close our eyes and, keeping good humor, draw ourselves and what we feel inside. After several more steps, here I am.

I haven’t stopped smiling since I drew me.

You see, I am not a visual artist in the ways of drawing and painting. But I am required to do so in this course. It employs Intentional Creativity and I am constantly being called out of my comfort zone and in joy.

I couldn’t be in a state of more delight.

 

What I Didn’t Know

by

moon2.jpg

 

What I didn’t know is that there must be a fall.
Not the one when leaves twirl to the ground,

a carpet of jewels as first chill fills the air. Nor
one where a catch sends me to earth’s surface

bracing against unforgiving ground. There is
the fall as I reach for something, planned

and seeded and bloomed, then poisoned
with ego, a duo walking two paths, not one.

Not those. No, not those. When I let all fall away,
open my hands and allow them to rest by my side,

clean out my heart, make room for nightfall
to fill in crevices, except for that one simple flame,

yes, there, so small I almost miss it, the Flame that is
always there when I let my worry and fear just sit

until my eyes adjust, I slow my gait and breathe,
and I begin to feel the warmth of that tiny flame

growing, I allow it to seep out from every fissure for I
am broken open, no longer in control. It is there to light

my way, the way I continue on without map, without grasp, in
trust. I come to the precipice, nowhere else to go, no turning

back, toes curled over the edge, and I push off, leap, and there
is the fall into the arms of Spirit whispering I am enough.