“Gust Is Deaf, Hills Are Blind”. . . and other responses to the last Wednesday Writing Prompt
“It’s that magnificent interlude in New York between winter and spring, when you feel the warmth stirring, and you remember that the dreadful naked trees will inevitably sprout tiny green buds, soon. Everyone rushes into the parks, the streets–and you even forget that, very soon , summer will come scorchingly, dropping from the sky like a blanket of steam…” JCity of Night
In response to the last Wednesday Writing Prompt, Another Kind of Beauty, February 20, 2019, poets Paul Brooks, Cubby (Sonya Annita Song), Irma Do, Jen Goldie, Frank McMahn, Sonja Benskin Mesher, Marta Pombo Sallés, Anjum Wasim Dar share the joy and inspiration they find in nature. Special thanks to Irma and Anjum for the added pleasure of their photographs and to Anjum for her artwork. Nicely done.
Readers will note that links to sites are included when they are available so that you can visit. If there’s no site, it’s likely you can catch up with the poet on Facebook.
Enjoy this nature collection and do join us tomorrow for the next Wednesday Writing Prompt.
Gust Is Deaf, Hills Are Blind
trees can’t walk properly,
Flowers twitch haphazardly.
Grass is mute, rivers are dumb.
Nature is differently abled.
Mountains are too tall,
struggle to talk when they can’t
bend a knee, get down to those smaller
who are in awe when all mountains need
is to speak face to face , dispel their myth.
Same with water that rushes by,
no time to stand and stare, moments pass
before they have time to fully comprehend.
Flux needs a still moment but has to go on.
Still waters wish they could rush.
All hankers after what it Is not,
Cannot accept their place as their lot.
© 2019, Paul Brookes (Wombwell Rainbow / Inspiration. History. Imagination.)
Let Me Pass Through
city walls
that bind all your threads together,
walk through this wood,
let your cityself take same walk, see
buildings as lone trees,
homeless hostel
is an oak, butchers
a willow that bends
down over the stream
where jammed traffic swims.
A dead bird breathes
animated by flies
is a man in the corner who sings
the blues to passers.
That fall of a leaf
tickertape homecoming parade.
Your pavement footfall
echoes in my forest.
© 2019, Paul Brookes (Wombwell Rainbow / Inspiration. History. Imagination.)
Riverbrain, Rivermind. Riverwives
synaptic rivulets
neuron canals
sacred water
riverbrain flows in my head
fountainbrain channels my ideas
lakebrain plays the fey
electric rivulets move earth
inside my head
waterskin neural net
circumnavigates damage
fruited hemispheres
replenish, restore, reimagine
senses water roots
springwaters in my head
well in my head.
sheflow
her flaps of the water
bride of the waveskin
her inner lips of the river,
spring and waterfalls,
fermented honey drip
not dragonfly laced stained glass
faplap
lamina moist make out
fragile weirs into lust
nympha
tongue kindly these guardians
Excerpt from The Headpoke And Firewedding (Alien Buddha Press, 2017)
© 2019, Paul Brookes (Wombwell Rainbow / Inspiration. History. Imagination.)
Grovemind, Groovemind
synaptic branches
neuron tipped limbs
sacred grove recovery
oakbrain opens doors in my head
ashbrain spears my ideas
elmbrain plays the fey
electric gust moves limbs
inside my head
barkskin neural net
circumnavigates damage
fruited hemispheres
replenish, restore, reimagine
senses water roots
grove in my head
grooves in my head
between oaklimbs
between ashlimbs
her flaps of the wood
bride of the barkskin
her inner lips of the forest
fermented honey drip
not butterfly laced stained glass
fapleaf
lamina mulch make out
fragile doors into lust
nympha
tongue kindly these guardians.
Excerpt from The Headpoke And Firewedding {Alien Buddha Press, 2017)
© 2019, Paul Brookes (Wombwell Rainbow / Inspiration. History. Imagination.)
FYI: Paul Brookes, a stalwart participant in The Poet by Day Wednesday Writing Prompt, is running an ongoing series on poets, Wombwell Rainbow Interviews. Connect with Paul if you’d like to be considered for an interview. Visit him, enjoy the interviews, get introduced to some poets who may be new to you, and learn a few things.
The Wombwell Rainbow Interviews: Jamie Dedes
More poems by Paul at Michael Dickel’s Meta/ Phore(e) /Play
When Galaxies Cry
When galaxies cry,
The tears that they shed
Are showers of light
We see overhead
That leave us in awe
As we touch our cheeks,
Speechless but listening
When radiance speaks.
So gaze at the sky
When stars shoot above
And hear as they make
Their statements of love,
For they long to be heard
In the vacuum of space,
Stardrops streaming down
A celestial face.
© 2019, Cubby (Reowr, Poetry that purrs. It’s reowr because the cat said so.)
I Long to Climb
I long to climb into the sky
On steps of wisp and smoke;
I long to feel the sweet caress
Of heaven’s velvet cloak.
I long to greet the newborn dawn,
Blushing in its youth;
I long to shoo the honeyed rays
From shadow’s hungry tooth.
I long to hear the faeries sing
Conducted by the moon;
I long to dance with dimpled winds
In Eden’s fair lagoon.
I long to stroke a comet’s tail
Impetuous in flight;
I long to whisper in the dark
Of dreams beyond the night.
I long for things I cannot have
And I will not deny,
For beauty’s sake is why I long
To climb into the sky.
© 2019, Cubby (Reowr, Poetry that purrs. It’s reowr because the cat said so.)
Sonya Annita Song’s (a.k.a. Cubby) Amazon page is HERE.
March Madness – A Haibun
It is March and I am Mad. The sky is a vibrant electric blue. The clouds are soft cotton pillows. The sun is bright but not warm enough to melt the recent snow. It is a fake spring.
But when a gentle wind blows, soothing my brow with the feel of soft yellow daffodils and hot magenta tulips, I release the anger and betrayal.
Disappointment healed
By springs flowers marching on
The promise of hope
Another coming together of prompts! Merrill at dVerse requested a Haibun about “March Madness” while Jamie Dedes’ Wednesday Writing Prompt asked: How does nature inspire joy in you, inspire your creativity and perhaps even your sense of peace? For me, the symptoms of spring sparks joy however where I am now, spring has been a tease – snowing one day then 60 degree temperatures the next. It is enough to drive one mad!
© 2019, Irma Do (I Do Run … And I do a few other things too …)
The Trees are making music
The trees
Are making music
To the sky today,
In apology for
Yesterday’s silence.
Music
With crystal bells
Of questions,
Hanging on the limbs,
Unspoken,
Unanswered.
© 2019, Jen E. Goldie (Starlight and Moonbeams and the occasional cat)
DANCE WITH DESTINY
ETHEREAL WHITE SNOWFLAKES GENTLY
FALLING FROM AN UNSTIRRING GREY SKY. STATELY
FIR BOUGHS LADEN AND RELENTING UNDER
NEW- FOUND WEIGHT. I’VE LOST MY LULLABY.
ONE PROLONGED AND LONGING BREATH AFTER
ANOTHER AND ANOTHER AND YET ANOTHER.
EYES FILLING WITH TEARS YEARNING FOR BEAUTY
TO ENFOLD ME ONCE AGAIN. MY PENCIL
SCRATCHES PAPER BUT I STILL CANNOT
SEE THE BEAUTY SURROUNDING ME,
A FOG OF DISMAY WASHES OVER ME
AS THE MIST DOES THE MEADOW.
THOUGH DESIRE IS ARDENT, MY VISION
IS CLOUDED, MY MUSE HAS ABANDONED ME,
ADRIFT IN A SEA OF MISCONCEPTIONS, NEGATIVITY
AND TRAGEDY. SPRING WITHIN MY REACH,
SO MUCH BEAUTY YET TO SEE, MY EYES
WEARY, MY SOUL MIRED AND LOST IN MISERY,
WARRING WITH COMFORT AND CHARITY.
JOY BROUGHT DESPAIR ALONG FOR COMPANY,
I TOOK HIS HAND AND HE DANCED WITH ME
THE WORST OF IT, IS, HE HAS STAYED WITH ME,
WHILE JOY LEFT THE FETE WITH HARMONY.
MY HEART HAS DONNED AN ICY COAT TO
HIDE ME FROM SADNESS, I CANNOT SEE THE
PATH TO HEAVEN, THOUGH I SEE THE ROAD
TO HELL, AS I DANCE WITH DESTINY.
© 2019, Jen E. Goldie (Starlight and Moonbeams and the occasional cat)
Wordsmiths
Letters inscribed in air; branches
write the seasons and their fickle
variations, shredding coherence
as they thresh and whine, blasts and rants
of leaves and barren seeds.
Gift of the wasp’s gall: indelible
tales from the oak’s heart and hearing;
grand hotel and shelter, shade for
transient languor.Acorn fall.
Sap retreats slow to reticence.
Meditation under rimed sky,
the hermit’s calligraphy spread
across the crystal sheet, utterance
of promise laid in autumn’s scatter.
The year turns; dew-varnished beech glints
with angled light. Decipher the forest’s
library: curlicues unfurling
on spring-dancing branches, stickiness
and insect hum, in April’s breeze
the Book of Kells unscrolling.
© 2019, Frank McMahon
.turkey island.
they say it is too cold there. cold as icebergs
none came the year the storm broke, breached
the shingle bank
decisions were made
i hear
to not repair
now there is salt marsh where samphire grows
some eat it
i don’t
i like turkey island
© 2019, Sonja Benskin Mesher
.clean water.
we left early to visit
clear pools of water,
the mountain sloped.
here we wandered,
among sheep.
watched the bug
glide the water,
sucked down
the fish leap.
storm past, this
was a day of sunshine.
we are good friends.
we got better.
so it goes.
© 2019, Sonja Benskin Mesher
- sonja-benskin-mesher.net
- sonja-benskin-mesher.net
- Sonja Benskin Mesher, RCA paintings (This is her Facebook page, so you can connect with her there as well as view photographs of her colorful paintings.)
- Sonjia on Twitter
- sonja-benskin-mesher.co.uk
- Sonjia’s daily blog (WordPress) is HERE.
I just met a turtle
I just met a turtle in the park.
It was on the way
Not where its mates
Usually are,
Near the lake
Sunbathing.
It was solitary.
I figured out it spoke
To me.
Told me to slow down.
And so I sat
As words began to dance
In flight
Carrying a smell of pine trees,
Rosemary and lavender.
Like butterfly wings
Fluttering in the wind
They intertwined
And slowly began
To land on my paper
One by one.
I pulled my thread,
Took the needle
And began to sow
One after the other.
A word weaver
Just like my friend
Quim
And all the others.
I just met a turtle.
© 2017 Marta Pombo Sallés (Moments)
The Park
Trees and blue sky,
sweet lavender and rosemary
not knowing why
a few lines I could invent.
Soft wind caressing my face
and the birds singing distant
feeling this nature’s embrace
longing to hold.
So much there is now at stake
sunbeams crossing through tree leaves,
peaceful water of the lake
sensing all, what nature presents.
Let us go on rowing
together on our humble boat
even though not knowing
how long to keep it afloat.
© 2016, Marta Pombo Sallés (Moments)
Out of the Shell
Out of the shell!
the tortoise said
out of that hell!
the price was paid.
Now I am cold
but not in vain
as I am told
I won the pain!
I can walk free
did nothing wrong
there is no tree
but I stay strong.
I’m a bit old
and just need love
I’ll be a bit bold
and play the dove.
I found a girl
on a dating site
oh, how I swirl
to her I write.
She’s just too young
or I’m too old
but I’ve begun
and now I’m sold.
My name is Frank
and she’s Nicole
I’m not a prank
yet she’s my goal.
Told her the truth
what will she do?
she’s in her youth
and I feel blue.
Difference in age
is not so good
it is a cage
you think I should?
© 2019. Marta Pombo Sallés (Moments)
Poem inspired by poet Newton Ranaweera’s post: See, we’re free!!: , and by chapter 6 of Mario Savioni’s novel Pickles and Tarts.
Jewels of Joy
Raindrops in heat,
showered jewels of joy,
a backdrop white dark and grey,
of infinite mercy, yet warning
thunder, of a power beyond –
what joy I felt, as the sun I found
hiding behind a rainbow –
adorned, in grace crowned
unaware yet cautious, masked thorn,
protection visible, smile on the side
why so quiet in repose, love embodied
profound, yet in complete solitude,
few moments in time,when no words formed,
sweet sounds of love’s intense symphony
in two souls, silently merged, a
rose plucked, surrendered to the hand
that controlled, in colorful scent, that
its joyful destiny, meant,in complete
fragrant beauty, drowned-
Nature’s eternal joy in spirit, replete
© 2019, poem (English and Urdu below), photograph and artwork, Anjum Wasim Dar (Poetic Oceans)
قدرتی حسن کی دلکشی
یہ بارش کی بوندیں خوشی کے ہی موتی
ھیں رحمت کے قطرے ھے بخشش برستی
یہ قدرت کی طاقت ھے سب سے بڑی
خوشی و راحت ملی ، قوس و قزح پہ نظر جو
پڑیدلکش گلاب محتاط مسکراھٹ بکھیرتا ھوا
وقت کے خطرات سے انجان چند لمہوں میں
محبت کے ہاتھوں میں مغلوب ،خشبو میں نہایا
ھوا ، کسی چاہنے والے کی خوشی کے لیے
قربان ھوا، ،کہ قدرت نے اسی لیے ؑبنایا اسے
روح کی گہرایوں میں اتر کر خوشی مکمل ملے
“POETRY PEACE and REFORM Go Together -Let Us All Strive for PEACE on EARTH for ALL -Let Us Make a Better World -WRITE To Make PEACE PREVAIL” Anjum Wasim Dar
Jamie Dedes' THE POET BY DAY Webzine 