I narrowed the world with scorching air,
a cave I stalked into earth’s bosom lair
echoing with its iron song
where no foreign hand belong.
I weighed my lungs in the choking air,
it laid the foundation bare
with the sinking burden of its flight—
a flash of light, and swift goodnight.
Years drift through the sulfurous after-air
Buried at the point of its timeless snare
Bent, unbroken on its stark crescendo
Lost to a brother I should never know.
(And for the more fantasy/full book inclined, don’t forget that there’s just one more day to get in on the FLASH SUMMER SALE currently involving The Hollow March, the first novel in my Haunted Shadows series. Don’t let it pass you by!)
Don’t mind the O
it’s just the last stop before the crow
spring-topped shower in all its finery
coded delicately for its binary
debut, in the showers and flowers
rising up like sandy towers
no blood where they lay,
just another seedling for the play
of petals on the fettered den
the nightly contrition of the zen
tools trailblazing incisions
into springtime’s timeless revisions—
they’d say we’re all within a trance
if our bulbous natures didn’t love to dance.
Génesis (Photo credit: ‘J’)
Common is the misperception
God broke the Darkness with the Sunlight and the Trees.
More accurate to say the World’s conception
began with Words:
“Let There Be Light” was simply
(Hello all! If there are any Fantasy lovers amongst you poetry people, I would also recommend checking out my announcement from earlier this week. At Faith’s End, the sequel to The Hollow March, has just been published and is now live! Check it out if some of the shiny bits and pieces on this site catch your fancy.)
Writers hold worlds in their hands. (Not my creation!)
Time is the writer’s friend. Strange to hear, I’m sure, but it’s true. Deadlines and date may be the staple of the craft, but for all the stress time heaps about our heads, it remains our greatest treasure. Day after day, we practice our craft, we hone it, as one would any other skill. We are possessed by it, in libraries and open mountain air, beside the hearth fires or lounging in the bustling street-side cafe. We love it. We hate it. Time strengthens the bond, strengthens the craft..
And lets us create:
“You must write every single day of your life…You must lurk in libraries and climb the stacks like ladders to sniff books like perfumes and wear books like hats upon your crazy heads…may you be in love every day for the next 20,000 days. And out of that love, remake a world.”
"The Bootmaker," image property of Rob Hanson.
Thread by thread
Stringing out the walkers
Life of leather—
Toiling at the standing grace
Of other souls.
Breaths ride the strands,
Divinity locked in rasping labor;
Noon passes stained glass
With a smile—
the hands know but the one song,
they cannot sing it with regret.
* My latest work for One Shoot Sunday. Based on the prompt from my interview this week with HDR photographer Rob Hanson. Be sure to check back in next week as well, for part two of the interview and more of Mr. Hanson’s lovely work.
This week’s Quotes of the Week are ones that appealed to the poet in me: the first made that poet sing, and the second made the poet grin for the sad truth of it. I know I’m not seeing any money in the future of it, but then, I knew that going in. If you’re writing just for money, after all, you’re doing it wrong…
Rainer Rilke. From Wikimedia Commons.
Jules Renard. From Wikimedia Commons.
“If your daily life seems poor, do not blame it; blame yourself that you are not poet enough to call forth its riches; for the Creator, there is no poverty.” ~Rilke
“Writing is the only profession where no one considers you ridiculous if you earn no money.” ~Jules Renard
Photo by Sean McCormick.
It is a rush—world—
Nothing holds not still above the
Colored creations of memory.
Years in the making the foundations
Sound and solid arise yet
Time bleeds into the framework,
The tumble of tumultuous tints tingeing like
Rainbows bursts of blown out washers –
We don’t forget, but the lines they
Blush against the battery of luminescent life –
We color detail till it all seems dreams,
And the world it circles and it sighs
And we’re rolling in the dyes of little lies
Watching change day by day.
Just beware of
* My submission to the latest One Shoot Sunday Photo Prompt, with that lovely barn/grainery shot provided by one Sean McCormick, a Canadian Photographer that is the focus of my latest interview for One Stop. Great guy, with some truly stunning nature photography…it absolutely breathes with life, history, and all the shadows of memories gone before. Have a look when you get the chance, and check out all the other poets inspired by the prompt!
is the nature of the note—
the pianist sits, prepared for murder
in operatic trespasses
he hears the Valkyrie ride,
her spear the thrust of baritone blast
piercing stars, like silver tears rain
It rolls down to earth,
a Resurrection, a stirring in the madness,
this flurry writhe:
a man might grow hollow on the glee
Destroying and Rebuilding—
Creation in the up-tempo swell,
but he cannot afford to think—
all crumbles to analysis.
* My latest contribution to the wonderful One Shot Poetry Wednesdays! Once you’ve had a look, check out some of the other One Shot Poets as well–they’re a skilled bunch of poets, with a strong and supportive community. Enjoy! And while you’re at it – vote for us in the Shorty Awards…we have a chance to take Number 1 in Art!
I dub thee Goddess Moon,
Patron of the painter’s boon
Mistress of the writer’s swoon
The world could circumnavigate
This trait, you call thy state
But they would only desecrate—
That holy word, this blurred
In bitter flight, bird
I am certain they should call absurd
But here you are, a smile
Resting yet upon the winds of wile
Of your fertile guile
Of my dearest heart’s devotion—
This world is not yet ready for your motion.
My latest contribution to the wonderful One Shot Poetry Wednesdays! Once you’ve had a look, check out some of the other One Shot Poets as well– they’re a skilled bunch of poets, looking to form a community and support one another. Enjoy!