Solstice Tanka

I wanted something suitably nature-oriented for this special One Shot Wednesday – since the party begins on Tuesday, after all, and this Tuesday is the summer solstice, the longest and (hopefully) most beautiful of days. My inspiration seemed cut off by grey clouds this morning, sadly, but with the afternoon there seems to have come a break in the haze of summer, treating my muse to blue skies and colored fields. In that same vein, I tried to step outside my usual, and go for a touch of tanka.

Hope the weather’s treating you all as kindly. May it be a fertile day for creativity!

Mother dances green

Before Father’s skyward kiss.

Sweet husband Golden

Pirouetting long shadows

Across her blossom billows.

And here’s a bit of greenery to put a little summer slant into your day…cheers!

Image property of: Chris Galford.

St. Patty’s

Hello, my name is Chris, and I’m not Irish. My ancestors are from the isles, but they never did call the white-foamed cliffs or the emerald fields of Ireland their home.  I know, I’m sorry – but now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, allow me to add that I appreciate a good St. Patty’s as much as anyone. Started my day off right, with a fine play list taking us from as far off as the raging typical St. Patty’s tunes of Flogging Molly and Dropkick Murphys, through the Dubliners and Stephen Lynch and even a touch of Buck O Nine, between more traditional bits.

Outside, the day is already surrendered to the sound and the sight of the drink on campus – Frat Row, as it is called, has already got their beer pong tables set up, as usual, and I’m sure anything with pub or anything vaguely Irish in its name will be roaring with business all day. The weather couldn’t be better – 60s in Michigan in March, for St. Patty’s? Yes, please – and I am in a fantastic mood. I wrote and I danced, and you know what else? I worked up a little poem for you all, and I do hope you enjoy.

A shamrock lies between us.

The grievances of history

Balanced on the tips of leaves

Are swallowed in green beer

To high tide tunes of fiddlers

Passing in the night

Where love and lust are staggering

With dignity and design—

They say as much to Mr. Jameson

As they pour a little more cream,

Pondering the existential implications

Of the girls in their shortest skirts

Swaying and serenading

The Dance.

(All images care of Google – thanks Google search!)

Edit: And also to note – it is my good pleasure to announce that today is also my dear friend Kila’s (Willowwish) birthday! Happy Birthday Kila! And in the travesty of all travesties, she has to spend it AND St. Patty’s day mired in class…oh dears.

Elemental Elation

Bear me up

Rustling cavalcade of coalescing

Music rush, on tempo speed

These breaths across my skin.

The harmony

Of your exultation

Gives me strength

Beneath my wings.

Crystal flow

Caress and coax

The resolution of my being,

Dive down into the deep.

Crash upon

The shores of apathy

And stir upon us yet the storms

That break inequity.

Quick-step

Quivering motions elate

To find the kiss, the touch of motion

In the sensuous sway of your dance.

No hands

Could ever hold thy hips

This beat, thunder of thy solitary

Moment, unbidden.

Bastion

Rampart revelry of life

Shield yet the passions of hope,

A dream of majesty.

Resolute

Mother-being enfold

The world in thy being:

Ground this flighty soul.

* For the latest Monday Poetry Potluck!

The Labyrinth

Commit unto me

the ability to See;

there is so much I wish to Learn,

no longer shall I simply yearn.

Commit unto me

the secrets of the endless ages

bound by the winding passages

of your shadowed mystery.

Let all be bared to me

as I commit unto your halls—

winding, coiling in a countless web

of one path, bound to a single center.

Take my eyes

and let the darkness grace,

eyes blind but arms outstretched,

with mind open to embrace.

Cast aside the clinging tatters

for immaterial metamorphosis

from the chains of that society

that barred me from your gates.

Lo! No more bound

I float into your grace

and rapture myself

upon your delicate caress.

Shut out the light,

stretch out existence;

the senseless path becomes

alighted by reality, purified.

In you the sky is my solace,

dancing and diving through clouds,

limitless in my exploration,

but grounded—finally connected.

Others jeer amidst

the fickle insecurity

bred into imprisoned forms—

bound body, mind, and soul.

No fear, march unhindered—

their rage is not for you;

still wrapped in grim conformity,

blinded minds bar ascension.

Noise topples as I touch the center

and everything falls away;

complete, I breathe at last—

Your corridors have set me free.

Creation and Destruction

She smiled at Nothing

as Music stirred Creation;

Nothing smiled back

as Destruction stalked her wake;

Love stirred in the space between

their sinuous dance.

* To hear it: Creation and Destruction, by Chris Galford

Nothing ends in Nothing

I thought I saw the street

But the signs were bare,

No cars or coaches anywhere.

Cracked cobbles

Ran the road—

Broken bricks

Snapped beneath the silence.

Such oppression—

The strongest path

Would fade.

Round and round

The wheels spin—

But in the silence,

All is still.

The world dies

Without the motion–

Unused.

Summer Nights

Such sweetest nights!

The sun departs, the moon arise

But still the fire burns

As bodies shake and memories sway—

What is that taste

Which sweetens all the dreams

And brightens reverie?

Every time I close my eyes

The world is song and dance,

A mysterium of magic beats

And vibrant color

Swirling through the dance

Of human interaction.

Bright eyes

And soft words,

The whispers of the soul demand

All attention to the fore.