MAGPIE/ Prompt #51

                                                        photo/ willow/ Magpie Tales


TIME'S SOLUTION

That's all that remains,
a road to nowhere,
scarred and burned,
bricks scuffed by time's solution.

A wall, chipped like chalk,
edges flaked,
inform the place
where windows let the sun
shine into the cubiculum.

A door that's gone,
lacking an interior,
summons up frescoes
of playful nymphs,
now departed in history's hand.

Alabaster dust floating
in the minds of Gods,
surrounds the Villa at Boscoreale.

This ash, some glitter,
what went on here?
Ants and weeds will again build a town
between the blocks
come springtime.
Lean down a bit,
you can see the life.

There stands a ghost peering out,
framed by the dado
that Vetruvius said
would last forever.

Tracing along a wall,
now dust in the memory of time,
a mother's face
still smiling, calling,
come back in.


copyright/ all rights resolved/ 2011



Can't believe that we've gone through 51 Magpie Prompts..how great is that??  Thank you, Tess!


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MAGPIE/ #36

                                       photo/ willow/ magpie tales


PORTAL

Some fly at night.
I like to fly in the morning.
Some mistake me for a moth
just because I linger at the flame.

But as soon as the door
swings open, I'm seen,
a nymph, to amuse or alarm.

A beam of light,
from the open portal,
shines through my wings,
today the color of peridot,
green as a neon bud,
lucent and shedding
angel dust.

I've lingered long enough
without identity,
first a ghost of hopeless prospects,
then a minor Satyress,
sitting on the edge of beds,
urging lover's arms
to enfold the air in which I float,
before they choose the damsel.

A rosary of names
hangs round my neck
and the wind will whisper
the one I am.
Someone will choose
to call out to me
when they pray
to Heaven for help.


c copyright/all rights reserved/ 2010


What a terrific Prompt this week from Willow.   Please read all the other's who've written their excellent posts!

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MAGPIE/ Prompt #29

   photo/ willow/ magpie tales

GRETEL

Shut up, Hansel and keep walking.  For the life of me I can't imagine that you actually threw crumbs on the ground, and expected them not to be swallowed up on sight by some sorry little critter following a numbskull like you.

And stop shushing me..if you had listened to me, we would have ducked out of the house at the very crack of dawn before Papa, and that Joan Rivers look alike decided to take us for an early morning walk in the woods.  Did you really think that we were going to practise for the Boston Marathon?

Kids like us throw pebbles on the ground, not crumbs, when they're being lured to their doom by their dumb old man and greedy stepmother.  And now you're just walking in circles and of course it's up to me to rescue us, as usual. 

Whoa...will you look at that!  Nice little cottage, a bit shabby chic, but..  Sort of like "before", on an HGTV makeover, if you know what I mean.  A little corny, all those chintzy curtains, but look, a candle in the window!  A nice homey touch.  Well, beggars can't be...you know what...

I must be dreaming..this is one of those gingerbread houses that kids like us stumble upon from time to time.  Have a bite of this window sill..sort of like a Hershey bar.  Look, there's a nice little old lady opening the door.

Smile, Hansel, take your hands out of your pockets, wave, and let me do the talking.  She's probably got something special for us!  Don't be so Grimm.


@copyright/all rights reserved/ 2010


Thank you Willow, for another opportunity to be part of Magpie Tales..a good idea that keeps getting better!!

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MAGPIE/ Prompt #24

                                      photo/willow/ magpie tales


PEEK-A-BOO

Don't think I can't see you
under the rumple of the sheet.
You haven't become invisible
and any creative mystery
you're trying to compose,

locked doors,
sealed windows...

What, vanished?

Your disappearing act 
won't be played out with me.

There's your hand
peeking out from under
the white expanse
that I tenderly folded over you
last night.

Are you kidding?
Do you really think
that an unwelcoming bed
will send me scurrying?

Come out,
come out, wherever you are!
I'd know the curve
of your hip, anywhere.
Oh no, buddy boy, I'm here to stay.

Just read the fine print
at the bottom of our document
of eternal bliss.


@copyright/all rights reserved/ 2010


Thanks again to Willow at magpie tales for coming up with such a challenging photo..please check the contributions of the other bloggy participants...more fun!


* Just a word of thanks to my friend and fellow blogger, Derrick at Melrose Musings for having written a most amazing post, A Growing Acquaintance, about my little book of poetry, "Two Ghosts".  Quite a thrilling experience for me.  In the exchange of our books of poetry, I was fortunate to receive Derrick's excellent, recently published, "Mixed Emotions".  All encompassing and original, as his blog always is..a treasure to have.


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Magpie/ Prompt #5

                                 Photo/Willow/magpie tales


WHEN I WAS A CHILD I thought my dreams were real.  I'd walk down the hall in my apartment and The Lady in Black might step out of a shadow and block my way.  Her wooden hands would clickety clack against the wall and her silence was broken only by her humming as she beckoned me.

At an early time of my life I slept in the living room, near the hall, on a chair that opened into a bed.  I thought that was swell and better than the ordinary beds every one else had.  Two large windows overlooked the street, three stories below. A large palm was pushed into the corner, and I believed it opened into the jungle.  Some nights I heard a call from behind the plant. 

One very hot summer my father pulled my bed close to one of the windows so I could catch a breeze that might flow across the sill.  I liked to rest my head on the ledge and wait for any slight puff of air to cool my brow.  I found the big dipper overhead one night.  Another time I saw a flying saucer hovering over the building across the street.  Some people were getting in, but not me.

There was a French door between the living room and my parents bedroom.  They slept in a huge carved bed, angels and roses entwined, that looked like it belonged to some king I'd seen in the movies. 

One night, when I was about seven or eight years old, I went out of my way to act like a big baby, because my Mom and Dad wouldn't take me to the movies with them.   I cried as dramatically as I could to summon their pity, but there wasn't any.  Well maybe a bit; Momma said I could sleep in their bed till they got home.  As usual, I cut my nose to spite my face, and stomped off to feel sorry for myself. 

My grandparents slept in the back bedroom.  Lots of windows and white lace curtains that fluttered without a breeze.  And on the window sill, an apple or pear, because Grandma never slept, and liked a bit of a nibble to break up the night till she made her way to the kitchen, leaning like an emerging ghost when dawn finally arrived.  Grandpa slept all the time.

I sat at my window and vowed not to sleep that night.  That proved to be impossible.  I awoke with my head on the sill and when I sat up I stared through the half open window into the very pale face of The Lady in Black.  She was floating outside and about to cross the sill.  Her wooden fingers clacked against the glass.

I jumped out of bed and screamed without a sound.  I tried very hard to force a noise, but none came.  How could I scream so much and not hear myself?  I ran through the open French doors into Momma's room.  No one there yet.  The Lady in Black was following close by as I found my voice and screamed to shatter glass.  I saw her pointy shoes gaining on me when she slipped into a shadow. Where had she gone?

I reached Grandma's room, dark, and fragrant with the lilac perfume she wore.  She was sitting up, leaning against the pale satin pillows.  Her eyes widened as I jumped into her bed.  I let her gather me into her arms, to comfort me with the little song she liked to sing to me..."Hush little baby, don't say a word, Nana's gonna buy you a mockingbird".... 

And she stroked my hair with her wooden fingers...clickety clack...clickety clack...


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Read other Magpie Tales

Childhood.

xxxxxxxSculpture: LauraJane Zimmer-Reed
x
x
CHILD'S PLAY
X
Eleven years old
and the light in his eyes
dims to black points.
The roundness of his chin
takes on a shimmer
that looks like whiskers.
x
Little ancient boy will never smile,
he's slipped out
the back door of childhood.
x
A Buddhist teacher
at his side whispers,
" You have 84,000 different emotions,
and the three poisons.
Just thoughts.
Don't be distracted."
x
The boy shrugs,
no stranger
to the study of virtue.
x
Break free. Be empty. Go away. Come back.
x
But first
he wants
to run outside
and play in the snow.
x
Simply a thought.
x
x


from: TWO GHOSTS/ poems

BORN ON THE 4TH OF JULY! LUCKY MILO, my Yankee Doodle Dandy, celebrates his 5th HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!

Open

IF YOU

CLING

TO AN

IDEA

as the unalterable truth,

then when the truth does come

in person and knocks at your

door, you may not be able to open

it and let the truth in.

Udana Sutta

I seem to be gathering quotes today. Lazy me.

For instance, I watched a most

excellent movie last night, Werner Herzog's,

"Encounters at the End of the World".

Quote later.

x

This is an incredible journey to the South Pole.

Antarctica becomes both otherworldly and extremely

human. The inhabitants bring their particular skills,

but also wise and funny individuality. A wonder of

courage and resilience. And unimaginable beauty.

x

To quote Werner Herzog:

x

Reality outdoes all your fantasies.