The Source

For In Tandem #9

Bright waters of oblivion, in deepest streams of consciousness,
ripple and refresh all hidden corners of our lives.

Their currents move us forward at a pace the river chooses,
and as human flotsam-jetsam, we all float, but who knows why?

Still across the crystal surface of this source which bubbles upwards,
the shadow leaves goes whirling, each a life with its own path.

But these rivers do not falter, are fulfilled by every journey
without a thought of where they flow or what is meant to be...

This was what the second In Tandem image called forth this afternoon -  I only wrote down the words - I leave the interpretation to the reader!
And today. 8/10/2012, I've linked to IGWRT, fo a second airing...

Means To An End

For In Tandem #9

In Autumn,
dessicated leaves
remember
a Summer
when drought was their enemy.
They whisper " Farewell!"

By next year
their scattered remains
will enrich
a seed bed
planted with their progeny
who'll whisper "Hello!"

This is for In Tandem #9, first image..

Bad Poetry? Here I Come!

Imaginary Garden with Real Toads have surpassed themselves, by introducing a Bad Poetry Competition. They dare us to write a cringe making example on the spot, so how could I resist? It's not even 7am, but a ghostly shade of McGonagall crept close and whispered these words straight into my ear...

Ballad Verse From Bad To Worse

O mighty pen so full of ink,
of a bad poem make me think!
I long to see your old blue-black
pile up words like a pancake stack
of syrup covered waffle writing.
Mind you don't make it exciting.
Use no dictionary's rhyming,
only simple words let climb in

to your carefully built tower
of random ideas, wielding power.
Let them trickle down the page
and send real poets, in a rage,
to tear their hair and leave the scene
to stanzas who are all has beens..
"Has been whats?" I hear you cry
as a tear spills from your eye.


Then add a cliché, maybe two -
my heart will bleed for love of you.
And if you could concoct a sonnet,
I'd put a feather in my bonnet
in your honour, O quill pen.
When shall we two meet again?
Will it be before nightfall?
Or even, please God, not at all!

And I've linked this to d'Verse, hopefully to stop people becoming too serious over poetic niceties! LOL

Inspiration

Mind like a kaleidoscope stores
images and whirls them into space.
They loose identity,  but reclaim soul
with each reincarnation of form.
Shapes and colours reinvent themselves,
lead down different pathways to an end
entirely unknown to their creator,
but recognised as the destination,
once is has appeared upon the screen.

Thanks to Tess at Magpie Tales for giving us this chance of yet another flight of fancy..

James Dean

There is a tenuous link between this film personality and the following attempt at an Irish Sonnet I wrote today. I'd never heard of this particular sonnet form before, so I wrote down the rhyme scheme but not the name of the Blog on which I found it! If you recognise yourself as that blogger, please tell me where to find you again, and I'll add a link to your blog! Anyhow here's my offering.

Photographs give the lie to time,
capturing one moment in a frame.
Their magic is not easy to define,
for memory replays a different game
which doesn't guarantee to see the same
details locked within its secret room.
Its rose may answer to a different name,
with perfume tainted by an air of gloom
which leaves an aura of impending doom
to reminiscence of a bygone age,
enfolded as it is in every bloom.
Our players have already left the stage,
and though our sensibilities may rage,
our sadness at such loss we can't assuage.

Now I find d'Verse chose Silent Films for their prompt yesterday - And the coincidence of this film theme was too good to miss. I hope they forgive me...
I'm also linking this to Real Toads, if nobody minds...

Born Again

The Spirit of the Sea casts herself upon the rocks, a wave-death which ends only to be repeated with the next crest. Her victory over death is for all eternity.

Imaginary Garden With Real Toads gave us this picture for a Friday prompt. With Sunday already on the horizon, I have written 160 characters which will fit the bill for Monkey Man's weekly challenge, too. Thanks people!

Tall Tales Tanka

Image courtesy of Ella

Because Queen Sunfire
cannot come too close to Earth,
she sends Sunflowers.

Rays from their shining petals

spread happiness in our hearts.

  

Thanks to Thursday Think Tank for this beautiful image prompt.

Look!

Adapted from an original image by Tess Kincaid

Look to the sun
to lift your spirits, make you smile.
Look to the sun,
whose daily toil is never done
but stretches out full many a mile
in order that it may beguile.
Look to the sun!

Thanks to Imaginary Garden, I've been beguiled into writing a Rondelet, a poetic form which will be explained for you if you click on their name above. 
And while on the subject of sun, here are three Lanturnes, for good measure, with thanks to Margo Roby for introducing them to me - or me to them!

Sun
shining
overhead
creates inner
peace.

The
ripples
of shadows
help to soften
glare.

Their
blanket
will cover
until morning.
Sleep!

And now I've added the lot to Poetry Pantry, as waste not want not!

Bookends

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

This shadorma (a six line stanza of 3/5/3/3/7/5 syllables) is for In Tandem #8
and for Natasha's picture, here's a haiku (5/7/5 syllables).

Mood adds its colour
to all our actions.
Life is a palette.

 

And now I've added these to Poetry Pantry Linky List, too.

Shadows

By Penny Smith

And days fall like leaves from our tree of life...
Each changes colour between dawn and dusk,
makes a flutter of shadow across the moon's face
before a drift of stardust claims its soul.

But morning sunbeams clothe the tree anew
with furled and pleated leaf-buds made of gold.
A day unfolds according to a plan
held deep within its very substance, hidden.

No prying eyes of those who seek to learn
its final outcome from the start, will make
it give up secrets till the appointed time
for all to be revealed, and so we wait.

And days fall like leaves from our tree of life,
before a drift of stardust claims our souls.

Linked to Poets United Poetry Pantry #64 and d'Verse Open Link Night #7

Sniff, Sniff!

A baby's skin fresh from its bath:
new mown grass: fresh coffee:
dusty pavements after the rain:
the smell of home-made toffee.

Sulphur fumes and rotten eggs:
burning rubber tyres:
dry seaweed on a muddy shore:
the remnants of a fire.

All of these may flood your nose
and keep your nostrils twitching,
but it is still a case of choice,
as to which you find bewitching!

The Thursday Think Tank is making our noses work today...

Reminder For In Tandem #7 ?

I am a Mock Croc about to cry tears.
Nobody's seen me! It was one of my fears
that I'd be forgotten and stuck in a rut
because I moved house. I am sorry, but
I thought, with a Tandem, I'd not be alone.
That's why I set up a blog on its own...
No one's remembered where I hang out,
so from Alias Jinksy I'm giving a shout!
I won't snap my teeth, but give a croc smile
to any who come back in a little while
with poem or prose written in their own voice -
lets face it, people, I give you wide choice!

In case this leaves you thinking I have a case of the Galloping Nadgers, and have finally Flipped - well - perhaps I have.  But this is one of the pictures I offered as a writing prompt this week, complete with a Mr Linky List, not included as part of an Alias Jinksy post, but as a purpose built, specially created home for my graphic fantasies on In Tandem. I see several Blogpals have already left comments on my sonnet written for the first picture, but only the lovely Natasha has be kind enough to add a comment, with a promise to return - which she has right royally done! Click on her name for a taste of Butter Cream... Thanks Natasha for trying to spread the word on my behalf, even if you are a lone voice crying in the wilderness! Hehehe!

Bring It On

How do I paint a mood, capture the sun
on a day when grey has washed away its gold,
when life has scoured the shine off everyone
and left them shadowed, jaded, feeling old?

I feel the thoughts of others in my mind,
and listen to their sadness. With written words
I try to soothe their pain. I search to find
an answer to those unasked pleas I've heard

for their spirits to be lightened, lifted...
Happiness, not easy to define,
waits to surface once all mists have shifted
from perception of the path. Time

revolves, so changes how we view each day,
and by such means must banish all dismay.




This is a late entry for Poetry Jam, and an early one for In tandem! I've also sneaked it into d'Verse Poetry Pub by the skin of my teeth...

For Sale

It's window shopping,

not the usual method.

Smiles three-a-penny.

 
With thanks to Tess for her prompt at Magpie Tales.