National Poetry Month sighs to a close

Pic on Flickr by halo_prints ~ Dusseldorf by the river
~
And so ends the month of pushing a poem a day. I wrote about 70 odd poems and posted, I think, 69 of them.

Meanwhile my son is leaving Dusseldorf and heads for Brussels before finally returning to Australia via maybe Amsterdam and maybe Paris. (So he says!) But he has less than a week to do all that, so we'll see!

I have no idea about tomorrow. I was thinking about writing a poem about a horse I see every morning. He is always sleeping by his favourite tree when I pass. But the new bigger and better highway is getting closer and closer to him. Soon, he will be right in the way.

This morning, I saw him having a quiet nuzzle with a another horse near his fence line. All I could think of was poetry; a poem about horses sharing secrets.

Hmmmmmm Possibly it is good National Poetry Month is over after all.

Wonderland Wine

Pic from Claudia Rubinstein ~ Forest Glow
~
Poefusion's prompt ~ Inspired by Emily Dickinson's Bring me the sunset in a cup
~
Seat me in a hammock of sanctuary
Deep in some ancient garden ~
Let me dine on an entree of florals ~
Heady floral shades and tones
Fanned by waves of green
~
Let me bask in a menu of bird and windsong
With a sidesalad of
Cool
Mystic
Atlantean heavens
~
May a gelato orchard
Of exotic fruits
Be dessert~
Like sparkling sorbet jewels
On a rainbow flavoured bridge
~
And may there be a wine
A precious deep wine
Well matured in the darkest recesses
Of my spirit
Waiting to be uncorked
To breathe awhile
In limpid ecstasy
~
Pour a little of me into the wineglass
And let me enjoy
Being locked
Lonely
Drinking
In a wonderland
That is only mine
~

Wild Streak

Pic on Deviant Art by killorcast ~ Light streak along Edsa Highway, Manila
~
Two for Tuesdays prompt ~ lesson streak
~
Like a wild lesson
Sliced with a glowing hot streak
Like rich, deep darkness
Knifed with a kaleidoscope
Of burning, living hell's coals
~
Hollow midnight hours
Time to face inner demons
Time to contemplate
Time to wonder on secrets
Time to close Pandora's box
~

Hollow

Pic from All Posters
~
This poem is a cento using lines from T.S.Eliot's Selected Poems
~
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Among the smog and fog of a December afternoon ~
The burnt out ends of smoky days
~
I journeyed to London, to the timekept City ~
An old man in a draughty house
His soul stretched tight across the skies
Impatient to assume the world
Under the penitential gates
~
Unreal city
The pleasant whining of a mandolin
~
In the twilight kingdom
The eyes are not here
And avoid speech
Of empty men
~
Because these wings are no longer wings to fly
Teach us to sit still
~
We are the hollow men
In death's dream kingdom
~
This is the time of tension between dying and birth
Dust in sunlight and memory in corners
Shadow of its own shadows, spectre in its own gloom
~
All our knowledge brings us nearer to our ignorance
~

More than a pillar of sand

Pic on Photobucket by kbware7 ~ ATT10~ Sandcastles

~

If I surround myself with beauty

Perhaps I can appear beautiful again ~

See

There is a rose ~

Languid petals

Almost floating

Like an anemone ~

And there ~

And there ~

Perhaps a daisy or two ~

But I like the one

Not far from my draped hand ~

Do you see what looks like

A sweet

Tiny shell ?~

Somehow

I think of

Atlantis ~

That island you think is fantasy

But I know

Is real

~

You see

Not far from this island

I was born ~

Born of the sea ~

In fact

You know who I am ~

I am that beauty

That lover

Who charmed men

(And gods) ~

My beauty was legendary ~

What you see now

Are just sands of my former self

~

Born of the sea

To the sea I must return ~

This is my moment

Quietly

Waiting

For sandy waves

To be real

For the sea to take me home

Home to be foam ~

And once again

I can be

Glistening

Beautiful

Aphrodite

~

Sacred Circles

Pic by Linnie Stepping Stone ~ Southern Thailand

Pic by David J. Bookbinder ~ Flower Mandalas

A circle orbits our cosmic space
Weaving a still, sacred cocoon
~
The essence of this holy place
Fuses evolving times and landscapes
~
Like Spring becomes Spring again
Like a child becomes the joy of wonder
~
Like refreshed happiness in a sun shower
Like a reflowering of the whispering soul
~
Just a little sand, a lowly twig
And a yearning to circle the stars
~
FOOTNOTE: MANDALAS have been used the world over as symbolic representations of the Cosmos as it relates to the Self.The word "mandala" comes from a sanskrit root meaning "enclosing the essence" - and therefore "sacred circle". Indeed mandalas are round in shape and they provide us with a magic circle, a circular and holy ground, a cocoon where we can safely and efficiently perform self-transformation and cosmic fusion.C. G. Jung observed that, towards the end of a successful therapy, mandala-like images would appear in dreams & in artwork as if to express an experience of completion: the patient had become "rounded up", whole and the psyche was unified, balanced. Is it a coincidence if "circle" and "cycle" are close linguistic parents ? Being circles, mandalas are displaying the reoccurring cycles of evolution and they always tend to appear at the end / beginning of a cycle, be it individual or collective. As symbols of the psyche, mandalas continuously speak a language of Self-Centeredness within the personal wheel of life and of Self-Integration within the grand scheme of transpersonal realities.
"The power of the world always work in circles and everything tends to be round"...Starwheels by Aya
Tibetan monks create beautiful sand mandalas and then, part of the celebration, is to erase them when they are complete, so they may be done again. And a simple mandala may be created in the sand with just a twig.
Mandalas are the essence of turning full circle.

Borrowed Wisdom, Coloured Insights

Pic from Nature Artists ~ Judy Scotchford, Brisbane, Australia ~ represents the San people of Namibia.

~

Nominated by UN as the best Poem of 2006 -

Written by an African kid (writer's verbatim retained)

~

When I born, I black

When I grow up, I black

When I go in Sun, I black

When I scared, I black

When I sick, I black

And when I die, I still black

~

And you white fellow

When you born, you pink

When you grow up, you white

When you go in sun, you red

When you cold, you blue

When you scared, you yellow

When you sick, you green

And when you die, you grey

~

And you calling me coloured??

~

RESPONSE: Our "white" rainbow is rusty

It needs a good spit and polish

~

The ANZAC fires still burn

Pic on Photobucket ~ Water by A0909

~

Beneath the last evening fires

Rippling waters darken

Some weary travellers turn home

In the heartland of being

~

Rippling waters darken

Secret loneliness deepens

In the heartland of being

War is a cold place

~

Secret loneliness deepens

Plummeting unknowns

War is a cold place

Love is torn

~

Plummeting unknowns

Eternal pain

Love is torn

Soldiers never win

~

Silent tears

Beneath the last evening fires

Fragile shadows in the candlight

Some weary travellers turn home
~

FOOTNOTE: This poem is a symbol of respect for the recent Australian ANZAC Day ~ 25th April. It also empathises with all those whose lives are re-shaped, maybe even shredded by war. We will not forget you! You are not alone! We are with you in spirit.

Writing Prompts on Live Journal

I am auragem on Live Journal

~

After the struggle through National Poetry Month, I have decided to add a "new arm".

You can find some unusual writing prompts I have created on Live Journal.

Stop! Drink the Moment!

Pic from Top Left Pixel ~ the beaches, by the Lake Ontario, east of downtown Toronto.
~
3WW Prompt #LXXXIII ~ picture reflected stop
~
Occasionally
A picture tells half stories ~
There are rare moments
Of deep reflected secrets
When there's more than meets the eye
~
Summer's sands are iced ~
Surf is a flurry of snow ~
Slipping tired fencelines
Drift silently to somewheres
Locked into magic white earths
~
But frosty landscapes
Arced, tangled in grizzled shapes
Are ribboned in light ~
The humble path is a stop
To walk in a rainbow sky
~

Paradox ~ for Totally Optional Prompts

Pic from Deviant Art ~ BloodedDaylight ~ Late Spring
~
coloured life on ice
spring dreaming
new star cross'd lovers
~

What future? ~ for Sunday Scribblings and Poefusion

Pic from Deviant Art ~ firefox13 ~ Future of our Planet??
~
This poem is in response to 2 prompts ~ The future of the Planet on Sunday Scribblings and a via negativa poem on Poefusion.
~

Cities are not cold and lifeless
Smogging nature's lifeblood ~
They host the gathering of multifarious minds
Like a corroboree
Celebrating the glory of a killing
~
Urban shapes are not real ~
Planning is merely the spark
Of accidental circumstance ~
Shapes grow in chaotic profusion ~
Mini dreams
Of real estate moghuls
Elasticising
Molder and mayhem ~
The height of surreal
Optimism and decadence
~
Urban shapes are not unreal
They are gods of reality
Projecting
Pretence and pretext
As pseudo reality
~
For some
An aerial view
Of our cities is
Ugly ~
Is that a sign of an
Ugly future?
Or is there a beauty in
Urbanity
Not tabled in
Mausoleums
Yet
~
Cities are not a symbol of death ~
Urban shapes are not real
But they are not unreal either
~
Progress is not sadness ~
Virtual worlds are not real
But they are not unreal either
~
The planet
The future
Hangs
In perfect

Paradoxical
Oxy-
Moronic
Misruled
Balance
~

Outrageous or Outraged? ~ for Writer's Island

Pic on Deviant Art by Bazerrk ~ Truly Outrageous
~
Your long haired mane of fluffy lavendar
Reminds me of a pampered poodle
Defiantly refusing
Curling tongs
~
And that red drop on the ear
Could be blood
Congealed
Around
A humble pearl
~
But that silver fringe
Really is a statement
Beyond statements ~
Could it be some
Curtain accessory
Or perhaps
Some colonel's tassel
Unravelled?
(I won't ask how!)
~
Then those
Ribboned prints
Pointed
So pointedly
On deepest
Black
Velvet ~
I am sure
Allusions
Need no
Explanation ~
It is all quite blatant
~
But then
You know
My lemon comments
Are only a sign
Of pure
Jealousy
Iced in triumph
~
For I know
Your outrageous beauty
Masks
The outrage
Burning
Feverishly
Behind
Those eyes
~
You see
The beauty of
An aura
Never
Lies
~

Lumen ~ for Friday 5

Pic from greenhead ~ lumen tree votive
~
Prompt ~ Poefusion's Friday 5 ~ splinter distractions molder votive punctuate
~
Even when time seems to molder
And happiness is a mere splinter
Of sepia lifetimes
~
When distractions are just a passing fancy ~
Stray music
On the wind
Chancing to punctuate
Yellowing keys
~
The lumen of a simple votive
Casts
Glittering
Plaintive light
Over tiers
Of shadows
~

Isle of Light ~ for Poefusion #15

Pic by Michael G85 of Liffey Falls, Tasmania on Deviant Art
~

Pic of Mount Roland, Sheffield, Tasmania by wiz66 on Deviant Art
~

Southern light

Island of mountains

Blue music snowlines

~

Mysterious soft time warp

My music, my song

~

Sheffield murals

Lost village

Luscious bakery

~

Tazmazia

Walking puzzle

~

Launceston

Cataract Gorge streams

White windmill sails

~

Mysterious soft music

My song, my time warp

~

Dry's Bluff colours

Nature's moods

Heady food for souls

~

Old Liffey

Another life

~

Dirty Laundry ~ Easy Street Prompt #153 and Poefusion #14

Pic from Easy Street ~ Prompt #153 + Mantras in response to Poefusion #14
~
I am not just a few plain wires waiting for you to string your clothes
~
I am not just a clothes peg longing to keep your spun dries in place
~
I am not your clothesline conveniently hidden in your backyard
~
I am not just here to fix your dirty laundry.
~
I am that displaced tree
Nudging out the wires
Determined
To grow
To reach for
The real sunlight
~

Watercolours ~ a Luc~Bat

Pic is Chinese Friendship Garden in Darling Harbour, Sydney, NSW on Just Wandering blog. Built to celebrate Australia’s 200th anniversary, the garden is the local Chinese community’s way of preserving and sharing their rich cultural heritage. The garden was built with Chinese and Australian expertise and materials.
~
Squished in the cityscape
Softling harbour landscape of peace ~
Troubled spirits release ~
Frowning pains of minds cease to ice
Hope in gloom; dawns entice
Mellow wisdom; concise yearnings
Light the way of dreamings ~
Celestine wanderings for all
Who seek another call ~
Beneath the smog of tall progress
There is space to ingress
Defying a regress to chains
~

Peter Panned Scarecrow

Pic by by Leontine Mayartwork ~ Watercolor from Flickr
~
Watercolor was originally uploaded to Flickr by anongrrl.
~
Poefusion Prompt: For an extra challenge try writing a sestina with these words: crow, umbrella, shade, dress, post and scarecrow.
~
Girl, your body image leaves a lot to be desired, cried the crow
In fact, the frame of your jaunty umbrella
Is hardly a useful bit of shade ~
And did you pinch a bit of twig for a post
To be some arty coat hanger for that princess dress ~
And what a joke if you dare call the whole contraption a scarecrow
~
Some woolly hatted piped piece of straw is my kinda scarecrow ~
At least this guy has a clown face to amuse me, said the crow
But this baby doll, white kinda see through dress
Parading some whimsical bubble you call an umbrella
Decorating a bit of dead tree reincarnated as some useless post
Would best be put out to pasture in the outback minus the shade
~
Hopefully in the outback burning sunlight will paint a new shade ~
Imagine a sculpture called the Broken Hill Scarecrow ~
People will travel miles to view this isolated post
I could be famous for this found art, mused the crow
But I do suggest you dump that ridiculous umbrella
And add a hat to give some class to that dubious dress
~
Perhaps you could adopt me to create a designer dress
Just in case raw weather creates a figment of its old shade
Perhaps I could design a giant beach style umbrella
Worthy of the most ignominious scarecrow ~
I could always be your Sir Humble crow
Willing to attend your needs from any stray post
~
But I really wouldn't mind too much if you decorated my post
Preferably with some delectable foods but not another dress ~
Ensure my perch is only fit for just one crow
Ensure I'm not too far from your sculpture and its beach-like shade
And you will have for yourself so much more than a mere scarecrow
You will have so much more than just a mere umbrella
~
Perhaps I can only dream on this toy umbrella
Perhaps I am destined to sigh for a special post
Perhaps I can only gawk at this pretence of a scarecrow
Perhaps I can only cringe at that Peter Panned dress ~
I am doomed to trundle life to that other shade
And just forever be another crow
~
From a distance a scarecrow is pierced with an umbrella
It could be a painting of a crow musing quizzically on an unconventional post
And yet, there is a child's dress dancing on a wooden cross in mystic, patched shade
~