What's It All About?

In IGWRT's challenge today, Kerry says " Pretty much anything goes, so long as you get us thinking about what it all means." So here are my somewhat doleful ponderings!

Mirage
Humanity - defenceless, weak and small -
each solitary being comes, at birth,
into a hostile world where nothing's certain...
And are we born the slaves of random choice,
each yay or nay a footstep on a path
devoid of signposts? Do our infant minds
stagger through blind alleys without help
or guidance from another's hand? To learn
from each experience is slow,
like gleaning grains of wheat from fields of chaff,
and many times such lessons are not learned;
again, and yet again we falter. What purpose
underlies our struggles? Is satisfaction
ever to elude our grasp, a mirage
shimmering upon a far horizon -
the one true destination only death?

P.S.  And in retrospect, they count as Day# 3 of NaPoRiMo - which I only started numbering on day # 5, even though I had been doing virtually one a day, anyway...

One Tail, Not Nine...

Detail from a painting by Jacek Yerka

Cat-a-stroph-e?

A cat in the kitchen? Oh!
No!
You see,
to me
that spells germs.
I squirm
at the thought of its feet
meet-
ing
things
on my work top.
Stop -
go no further cat!
Back to the mat
for you.
Shoo!

Written for Tess at The Mag, with thanks. :)

Necessity- Mother of Invention!

Today I made a daffodil
with crochet hook and wool ;
real ones never grew this year,
for winter days were full
of snowy cold and raincloud skies –
while weather played the fool.

Nature's tempting failed; in vain
she pleaded “ Spring, please come!”

(She’s hiding in some distant land
and reining in the Sun!)


55 words for MrKnowitall written last evening in expectation of Friday!

Green Nightmare

The Green is creeping closer to my door.
Overnight,  the tendrils have lengthened
and their leaf tips grasp and wind tighter
round my dwelling. Escape is now impossible.
Even if I could break outside,
the blades of spear tipped grasses
would cut my feet to shreds at the first step…


50 words written for IGWRT's challenge today

Behind The Headlines

Within us all lie shadow beings, waiting
to make their presence felt; to bend the truth
until our conscious mind is set in turmoil
by unaccustomed promptings of temptation.
We feel the warmth of all their whispered goads
which hold us, teetering on the brink of wisdom,
and ready to misread a situation;
to falter in our stride and lose the way...

It's then we have to choose to take control,
to push our finer instincts to the fore
by ignoring what might be the easy option,
and strive, however hard, to do what's right,
with no regret, no thought of recompense
except a well earned sense of justice done.

Thanks to Tess and a surreal picture by René Magritte, this is my adapted offering for The Mag 161 and linked to Toads Open Link Monday, on Tuesday! LOL

Tantivy!

Faun, Horse and Bird 1936 by Picasso

A faun with horns went out one day
a-riding on his horse...
a huntin' shootin' fishin' faun
he looked to be... Of course,
we cannot tell what made that horse
to trample on a bird-
but thanks to P. Picasso
we can see what next occurred...
The faun leapt off, the horse said 'Neigh'
and bird wished he could fly away!

 Having given the good Doctor FTSE a preview email of this ditty, back came his speedy reply, which I am adding here for your delight. He said:-

Amazing what  a Pen can do
with P.Picasso's tripart zoo.

I guess the disconcerted horse
was filled at once with real remorse
for trampling on the feathered fowl
which straight away let out a howl
and cried to the dismounting faun.
"I wish I never had been hatched."

Hatched?  Hatched?  Oh well . .

Thanks a bundle, Doc! Hehehe!

Thanks to Tess at The Mag for her Picasso prompt!

Waterworld

Ocean stares unblinking from beneath green eyelids, watching, watching... standing guard above Neptune’s Kingdom, where mermen and mermaids live in their bubble-filled, coral palaces among sea groves of waving kelp fronds.

Is he searching for a Mortal who would be able to dry his unshed tears, those he may one day cry for all humanity?


Tess gave us a fascinating picture by Robin Gosnall for this week's Mag, and I couldn't resist playing! And as luck would have it, there are 55 words for G-man, come Friday!

Heatwave

For today's Mag, Tess has given us a photo by TheFoxAndTheRaven, which I have interpreted in my own way, with thanks to the original artists.

Drawers is Drawers - or Pantaloons?

Poor Venus had no underwear
which might make people stand and stare
if 't'weren't for classic chiseled drapes,
so no one's mouth need fall agape.
But what did Dali do forsooth?
He was a most impetuous youth
who made her chest a 'chest of drawers'
with furry knobs ne'er seen before...

What if he'd chiseled pantaloons?
Would history have dubbed him goon,
or would the folks do naught but snicker
at the sight of Venus wearing knickers?

To see the origins of this flight of fancy, pop across to The Mag 157 to visit Tess and Mr Dali in person! But now, here's another version - take your pick!

The Artist Jacek Yerka...

With an introduction in his own words here!

Today's Magpie sparked my curiosity, not my muse, and if you follow the link above you will maybe gain further insight into what kind of a mind produced the Wind of History which Tess featured today.

Perhaps later my muse might be stirred to action - perhaps not. Time will tell...

And after a couple of hours, either my brain or my muse has kicked in. The words that follow are entirely as a result of the 'feel' of  the painting "Wind of History", and nothing at all to do with the artist even though I looked at information about him! So, here's my offering, such as it is:-

The Malcontent

No ordinary dreamer have I been,
for kaleidoscopic thoughts drove me on
to follow my own paths. No formal gates
opened to lead me to a welcome light;
my tracks journeyed back and forth, back and forth.

So I travelled on, failed to rest content.
Now, like an abandoned car I must stop -
I have lost all power to move forward.
Clouds fog the horizon, but a beacon
shines through the mist, calling to me "Come, come!"

And finally, a rethink of the image, specially for SueAnn Lommler!

Everything Sounds Better In French!

A Brit might live life "In the Pink"
and give a knowing little wink
at a boy and girl locked in a clinch
at a cafe table; but it's a cinch -
I guess that everybody knows -
in France, one lives "La Vie en rose!"

Thanks to Tess and Joseph Lorusso 
at The Mag 155

Sci Fi Etheree

His
blue lips
loose a scream;
his exhaled breath
fogs the atmosphere,
precious drops of liquid
condensing on clear plastic
which separates this specimen
from  mankind, while aliens’ secrets
continue to elude all scientists…

Another flight of fancy for Tess with her prompt at The Mag

In The Groove

An excerpt variation on "Charlotte Gainsbourg, AnOther"

Round and round the records spin
to fill the room with sound
and vinyl voices take the air
as pop song verses pound.

The needle tiptoes in its groove,
a dancer all on point
a-balancing upon one leg
with an electronic joint

connected to the magic box;
a "Dansette" it was called
and in those early plastic days
it kept the youth enthralled.

Before the days of DVDs
or CD's silver faces,
black record-ridges were the norm,
no need for airs or graces!


Written for Tess at The Mag

Handfast

His right hand outstretched,
rigid, palm up, unbending,
offering its strength.

Her left hand, pliant,
curves to accommodate it;
vulnerable trust.

Partnership begins;
how long such a link will last
is never certain.


Written for The Mag, with thanks to Tess and the unknown photographer.

Knit Wit?

Feet are neat -
though maybe not sweet?
But a body sock leaves
toes exposed. Please,
enthusiastic knitter,
don't be a quitter.
Clack you needles again
and make some socks, plain
or patterned will do!
I ask you,
how else will I keep
the warmth in my feet?

Thanks to Tess at The Mag for the intriguing example of one knitter's wit! LOL :)

I noticed another couple of interesting excerpts too...so here they are.

Monkey god with supplicant?

Still life monotone

 

Caution!

Indrawn smoke
turns ashen lungs black,
like widow's weeds...








Even stale cigarette butts can be turned to good use - go here to see more attempts, thanks to Tess and R A D Stainforth.

Greetings!

To Blogpals far and near who happen upon this card -

I made it to share, so feel free to help  yourselves! 

Reflected Light

Remember how this winter day gave light
to country fields where frost and snowflakes lay?
It held at bay the terrors of the night.

When phantoms lurk and prowl our inner sight
and blackest thoughts intrude and bar our way,
remember how this winter day gave light.

Its hoarfrost beauty kept the landscape bright,
attempting evening darkness to delay...
It held at bay the terrors of the night.

To those who'd choose to flee to calm their fright
there's scant advice to give, except to say
"Remember how this winter day gave light."

Then their unease must give way to delight;
although the sun had seemed to hide away,              
it held at bay the terrors of the night.

And should your future self meet such a plight,
in each reflective moment, do, I pray,
remember how this winter day gave light;
it held at bay the terrors of the night.

Thanks to Tess and Andy Magee at The Mag #148 for their inspiration. I have also linked this to Poets United, and IGWRT too.

Heavy

Broad shoulders
may bear many weights.
Ask Atlas.

For other ways of looking at the world, take a trip to see more at The Mag 147, thanks to Tess and the photo source here.

Left On The Shelf

Two abandoned rings
underline your absence,
leave a vapour trail of emotion
across a sky where stars, this day,
are hidden.
Love has been eclipsed
by a black moon,
and the chill of outer space
invades my universe.



Written for the Mag 146, thanks to Tess and  Man Ray's Object to be Destroyed.