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!
They’re making the bed with me still in it,
as they draw and quarter me in sheets.
I step outside myself and see
the smothering pillow, mothering willow
spread me out and drown me in
white, like Lazarus stepping from his tomb,
but there is no resurrection here,
just a face that saw the skyward climb
and faltered, just before the final rise.
* 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!
A poem for the wonderful Monday Poetry Potluck, as hosted by Jingle Poetry, and those lovely poets Amanda and Kavita! This week’s theme: Magic & Miracles, Wonder & Wizardry. The poem you see below, dubbed “The Phoenix,” was written in my Freshman year of High School, but it certainly seemed to fit this week’s theme – so I hope you enjoy.
From flickering flame,
The smoke is rising nigh.
Such wondrous radiance –
Its time had come to pass.
The flames wind up its fading form,
As noble creatures hum
A lonely lullaby.
The moments tick on by-
Ashes lay where fire burned,
The beast is now long gone.
Yet gaze into the ashes-
A surprise is soon at hand-
A beak pokes from desolate dust,
The flames burn bright again!
A bird rises from the ashes of its father-
The cycle begins again.
* If you’re looking for an additional bit of reading, I also encourage you to check out my nod to the Thanksgiving season on One Stop Poetry: A Poetic Monday! I wrote a poem for it called “Of Turkeys and Bounty,” a work I will be re-posting here a little later in the week, for Thanksgiving holiday. A bit of a history lesson on the holiday is also provided, for our more international audience, who may or may not know of what Thanksgiving is. Enjoy!
Do you know the story of the Easter Bells in Europe? Throughout the year, Europe is set to the ringing of the bells, save the Christian Good Friday and Holy Saturday. It is a token of mourning. Yet on Easter day they ring out once more, as a celebration of their savior’s resurrection. On this day, millions of people are set to celebration across the world.
Accordingly, this first quote of the week is in honor of the Easter weekend.
I think of the garden after the rain;
And hope to my heart comes singing,
“At morn the cherry-blooms will be white,
And Easter bells be ringing!”
~Edna Dean Procter, Easter Bells