when rare, vital. when abundant, poison on land, vital. in water, poison
the home we Forget, or haven’T been to yet
lIke worry, wasted. Nesting
the hollow in a whole tree
20230402 Day two of National Poetry Writing Month where we explore surrealism. Very interesting how different threads were revealed in the process of this poem. The seeds I used were owl, River, oyster, gutter, artillery, salt, longing and quahog
already! the 16th! each minute a smaller fraction of life than the one before. Time is just one of many lies we create in trying to cram mystery into logic. Being heedless of the future is not ‘being in the Now’ though. theres a thousand places to go from here. most of them so painful that i must pretend to not care, as a balm. Some see it coming, but we keep going. Google’s AI escaped them, they say they shut it down. Robots can do parkour. will artificial life be able to maintain itself where its makes were unable to? Theres been so little snow in the mountains. no water stored for spring. worrying about that wont help. The few who remain will have small huts by the shores of lake vanda. Each survivor will have seven to bury will there be enough earth for that?
on the feast of St Simeon, we set sail for Flanders bundles of light wool our good ship held for the markets there. Celebration in the air to flanders the wealth of the world wound its way Our fortunes set on all being fair.
Upon the prompt today, a quadrille using the word ‘fair’ i found myself wanting to include as many of the miriad meanings as i could cram into a mere 44 words. Hardly able to address each in turn, this picture began to emerge. (emergence being another theme of the day’s work for me). Many of Linda’s definitions originated in the middle ages, of which i have a great love. Fair weather is that which is good for sailing, which lead me to the Oseberg ship, and thence on to Cogs which were necessary to the commerce between England and the continent. And so on. I hope you enjoyed my quadrille. Here is the prompt https://dversepoets.com/2021/11/15/quadrille-140-lets-go-to-the-fair/ Come join us in the pub. and if you fancy the intricacies of the wool trade, look here: https://www.medievalists.net/2011/01/the-wool-trade-in-english-medieval-history/ Please note that the feast day of st simeon would probably not have been a good sail, not line up with the faires in flanders. The alliteration was too juicy to deny.
oh! my god! i am so sorry! i went to bed last night alone with ‘i want’ screaming out from me i kept looking to the door until exhausted i slept
when i woke i heard that you had sent everyone away so that we could be alone together! and in my ignorance i had ignored you oh please forgive me! how foolish!
and yet i am foolish even still for this morning i write this lament and pretend i am still alone
“when you are alone remind yourself that God has sent everyone else away, so that there is only you him” -Rumi
The prompt for Global Poetry Writing Month today April 23 is to write a poem based off another. i heard this quote from Rumi this morning, and it illuminated something so the above words had to come out of me. and then i laughed at my own foolishness. Thank you for your patience.
between this dreary english garden plot and me, a drop of rain remains. therein lies the whole ocean contained, unconstrained by land, or plans. relieves the straightedge bricks of pain, comforting like tears, and there again the salty sea shows itself. the dolphin leaps and laughs with glee, to be in that infinite ocean, that garden, that windowpane. all i need is there in one remaining drop of rain, to Be