BETWEEN HEAVEN and HELL/ 1989/ Jack Yerka
THANK YOU, Tess at Magpie Tales....
SLEEPING WITH GODS/ Mother Earth
Where to begin?
You wanted a world,
you floaters in my mind,
and sleeping alongside
sweet Morpheus,
I dreamt my first hat trick.
There she stood, Eve,
fresh from a slice of Adam,
Snow White in his eyes,
until she waved
hello to the serpent.
Curiosity already killed the cat,
then all matter
was no matter,
and dust followed every dance.
Should I take my sleep
with Hypnos once more,
seize his son by the hand,
scrub this all clean?
Or flip this sullied wonder
like the mother I am.
Copyright/ All rights reserved/ 2013
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Not to be Reproduced, 1937/ Rene Magritte
THANK YOU, Tess at MAGPIE TALES...
TO PLAY
The part you played,
the glide towards dawn,
a wild card, face down,
every hair in place.
All the unknowns of you
take the shape of smoke.
What's in your memory
that you want to mask?
My pool of tears,
they dry to flakes.
Yet the pathway is still
a mesmeric zigzag.
Winning, losing,
every dream
takes a bite out of me.
Your image is all you risk.
I'll call you,
don't call me.
Copyright/ all rights reserved/ 2013
Hoppy Birday to me!!! 3/22...Aries, what else?
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Faun, Horse, and Bird, 1936/ Pablo Picasso
THANK YOU, Tess, for Magpie Tales....
BLUE MYTHOLOGY/ an abstraction
Satyr stirs from slumber,
lifts the veil of absinthe dreams,
a silky nymph,
torn from his rib
takes flight, during
l'apres-midi d'un faune.
Goddess of the feral
chants with the Pipes of Pan.
Griffin's wife
plucks a feather
from his tail,
plaits it to her tresses,
teases the Phoenix
to join in the leap.
Medusa whispers
to Pegasus,
see how I craft
a pale horse
from that wave?
Echo sings on,
flies with the white dove
to resurrection,
storms the gates of heaven.
Just another reverie,
l'apres-midi d'un faune.
*
Afternoon of a Faun/ Poem, Stephane Mallarme/ Ballet, Vaslav Nijinsky
Copyright/ all rights reserved/ 2013
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Meal Beach, Burra Isles, Shetland/ ROBIN GOSNALL
THANK YOU, Tess, at Magpie Tales...
CONNECTED
Sinking, rising,
catching sight
of a footprint
in the sand.
Time cleanses,
washes away,
ceaselessly.
First wave, last surge,
a fleck of grit
finds a path,
and I sing out an Ohm.
Wrap me up
in a shell.
Tomorrow,
I yield to splendor.
In front of a window,
Vermeer's girl,
caught in a floating moment,
a pearl in her ear,
from the sinking,
from the rising.
Copyright. all rights reserved/ 2013
http://www.minblu.blogspot.com
http://twitter.com/lynxny
Photo/ The Fox and The Raven
THANK YOU, Tess, for Magpie Tales....
BACK AGAIN
Broken water,
a halo of tendrils
float like tadpoles,
plunging into existence.
A face emerges,
pretty as a succulent Watteau.
Flooded,
without a breath,
now flows my soul,
charged,
begins to sing.
I tumble into days,
it looks like Eden,
seems to be myself.
copyright/ all rights reserved/ 2013
http://www.minblu.blogspot.com
http://twitter.com/lynxny
