Do memories, and the events that live
within them, exist on another plane?
When we consider them, sort them,
try to surmise the truth they hold,
do we change or diminish them in any way?
Are they like crows, amused at our attempts
to affect something that is beyond our reach?
Memories change. Details fade
with each telling. I wait for a sign,
watch the sky for their return,
but they have taken wing, are gone.
Within the comments I left on Backstories, by Merril Smith, I realized I had the germ of a poem. Thank you, Merril, for the inspiration.
How ironic, that I found this in the “Unfinished” folder on my laptop (from 13 months ago), wondering why I never posted it. Of course, with my Swiss cheese memory, maybe I have.
Shared with Open Link Night LIVE #298 at dVerse~ Poets Pub
Image source: pixels.com
in the darkness
a heart will remember
a treasured light
always held within
never really gone
~ Day 19 ~
Photo by Ha Jang on Unsplash
The unmistakable voices of the trees
calling out to the hidden moon,
seeking the caress of its light,
the end of their unease.
A midnight susseration.
This gogyohka is inspired by Merril Smith’s gogyohka, Night Wind.
Please read her original here.
Image: full moon, 22 December 2018
(right click image for larger view in new tab)
Magic of the Oracle
The light in a breeze.
The perfume of the stars.
With her many voices,
breathing her soft laugh,
she dazzles as she celebrates.
Always, if we listen.
With help from The Oracle at Magnetic Poetry, this poem
is inspired by Merril Smith’s All the Questions.
If you want to try magnetic poetry, you can do it online, here.
Background image: Wikimedia Commons
Consulting the Oracle, by John William Waterhouse
I started scuba diving in my late twenties, reaching NAUI (National Association of Underwater Instructors) Advanced certification in my second year. I went on to gain certification in Wreck, Rescue, and Ice diving, while diving at every opportunity. I’ve only been “resort” diving twice (early on), to Cozumel, Mexico and Bonaire (formerly part of the Netherlands Antilles). The majority of my diving was in the Niagara River, but I’ve also dived off the shores of Massachusetts and Rhode Island, and I’ve done more than 50 wreck dives in the Great Lakes.
I collected a few finds over the years, from 19th century glass and clay bottles and jugs to boat anchors and an actual 300 pound ship’s anchor. I met some great people along the way, but the one thing I enjoyed the most was the solitary aspect of it – being alone with my thoughts with no sound except the air bubbles from my regulator, while still being able to enjoy my experience in the environment.
In 1990, after nine years of diving, I had an inner ear infection (non-diving related) that left me in bed with vertigo for a week. I was left with a continuous ringing in my left ear and brief lapses of minor vertigo when inverting my head or lying down too quickly. That vertigo became an increasing factor in my dives when sudden direction changes occurred, such as inverting briefly to get around an obstacle or while wreck diving. When I broke my ankle at work in 1998, I took it as a sign to end my diving, and never looked back.
air bubbles rising
to break the water’s surface
gone with the seasons
As guest host at dVerse, with Haibun Monday: TransitionsHaibun Monday: Transitions, Merril asks us to write about a transitional change in our lives. I think I’ve achieved that with my closing. Thank you, Merril.
Image: clay bottles – “Lemon Beer” bottle, (12″ tall) spring water bottle & jug –
plus glob-top beer bottle, boat anchor, and ship’s deadeye
(all Niagara River finds)
truths that elude
our eyes live in dreams
waiting for the mind
to recognize them
My response to Merril Smith’s poem Blue Pony Dreams.
I’m posting this for Open Link Night at dVerse.
Image source: Wikimedia Commons (Blue Horses by Franz Marc)
In the winter of my life,
when stars have danced
and taken light
that would be mine
if only I had dared to dance,
would I dare to glance
for answers and another
chance, to find it was
too late? For what are stars
that they should wait and not
perform another dance?
Not a pantoum, but inspired by Merril’s pantoum in response to the optional prompt for Day Twenty-two of National/Global Poetry Writing Month – to write a poem in which the impossible thing happens, from a choice of given statements, and this one was:
“The stars cannot rearrange themselves in the sky.”
Image source: Astronomy Picture of the Day
(NGC 3344, from ESA/Hubble and NASA)