Artists come in many forms...

Image by courtesy of Hilary at The Smitten Image

            Light weaves tapestries
            to hang as a canopy
            above our bowed heads,
            as we honour the artist
            who created such beauty.

High Fliers

Has your chick fledged?

Teetered on the nest edge,
flapped wings, and flown
before he was full grown?

Perhaps he only fluttered to the ground,
down, down, down...
as you watched his fall,
wanting to call
'Take care!
Remember the air
may be friend, or foe
if you go
too close to the Sun,
Son,
and like Icarus, defy
the ruler of the sky.'

But though high fliers may rise
in search of some glittering prize,
we could never choose
to loose
our concern
that they won't burn...

Without  hatchlings, a nest
looks empty. Best
fill it with a new lining;
forget  pining,
for soon a new brood will come to visit.
Exquisite!

And it so happened, this fitted Wednesday's Toad prompt, too!

The Smile

The dog nudged his nose against the woman's arm, hoping she would feed him scraps from her plate, but she was far too excited at seeing who had come to sit opposite her, to notice this silent begging.
The lackluster day transformed into a Technicolor afternoon, forcing her to smile in recognition of the improvement.

 
Thanks to Tess and Edward Hopper for coming together in the Mag 220, from which this detail took flight. Come Friday, it will be linked to G-Man, too, as it happens to have exactly 55 words! What luck. :-)

Early Bird?

Photographer Unknown

Today, I spotted a Sepia Saturday post, ready for 17 May, and as its subject matter has always been close to my heart, here's my seaside poem, accompanied by a detail from a photo which appeared on Google Images , but without acknowledging the one who clicked the shutter. I thank them, whoever they were.

Sea Edge

In creeps the water,
tickling my toes,
swirling its whirlpools.
But nobody knows
where the sea comes from
or where it all goes.

Was it in China,
or distant Japan
that this pool of ocean’s
blue ripples began?
How many more miles
will they have to span?

How far have they travelled
and how many waves
crashed onto shorelines
or hid inside caves
before they arrived here,
so buoyant and brave?

On Stage

The Play’s The Thing

A sudden shutter clicks and doorways open.
Sunlight lays its hands upon my head
and energy cascades about my form.
It brings a scene shift on the stage of life
and I, as actor, need a different script
to follow.  Playwright, do you heed my words?
The backdrop changes daily. I have learned
that standing in the wings is not enough.
It's time to enter right and play my part.

See IGWRT's  Open Link Monday

Explanation

A replica will not be found in any book...
Look for a dog with big ears, and perhaps,
chaps, you will see what I see.
Heehee! No, not three, but two eyes... and his nose
goes according to plan. Man! He's ugly, though,
so be kind.
Find one small thing to inspire,
fire your imagination. Perhaps his long(ue ?)
tongue (hung left) is panting,
wanting water, or a friend to lick.
Quick!

Who will come to his rescue? Will you, Tess? For it is your Mag 218 which caused his creation thanks to Salvador Dali's equally strange image :-)

At The Going Down Of The Sun

Original Image by Penny Smith

Stillness spreads
over the landscape
as evening
stands poised on the horizon
   of another day.

An edit of something I wrote earlier, updated and posted for Poetry Jam.