Found Poetry, Part IV

(For more Found Poetry, click here, here, and here. I’d love to hear what you think.)

Merlin’s Last Voyage

crystal moon
out of the mist
ancient evening
entering the mystery
of a hidden world

dark falls the night
on the island cathedral

 

Night Sight

northern lights
swimming
o’er the land, o’er the sea
casting out darkness

 

Earthdream

sunshine on a meadow
the smile of a breeze
breathing light
between two worlds

To the Old Person Who Lives in My Mirror

(The following poem first appeared in the 2018 issue of Gateways Creative Arts Journal, themed Remembering and Forgetting)

 

Who the hell are you?
Don’t think I don’t see you there,
lurking smugly,
checking me out,
searching for one more wrinkle on my face,
yet another white hair on my head,
yet more thinning of it.

Why are you gloating?

Well, you’re not getting away with it.
I can stare right back at you.
I see deep into your eyes,
and that’s where I find her—
the one more recognizable, more what I expect to see.
The one with thick black hair, smooth face,
eyes brightly lit with the anticipation of life.

What did you do with her?

I know she’s still there.
Except she’s not.
She experienced life;
she acquired wisdom.
And it only added dimension to her being.
So you can’t hide her.
She’s here, on this side of the mirror.

And she’s better than ever.

 

(Photo credit: Lip Kee from Singapore, Republic of Singapore [CC BY-SA 2.0 (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons)

Again with the Found Poetry!

(Unlike my first two rounds of SXM Found Poetry—here and here—these short pieces are titled. I look forward to hearing your thoughts.)

DSCF4886

 

Dreamless

kindle a flame
before the last leaf falls
on the shores of time
be at peace

 

Contemplation

tears in the rain
flowing into formlessness
roll on forever

 

Scenes of Reflection

rainbow visions
cloudscapes
canopy of stars
between sacred mountains

 

And Evening Falls

silver cloud shimmer
almost full moon
serenade of the night sky

 

 

More SXM Found Poetry

(For more about my latest foray with Found Poetry, click here. And leave a comment if you find a favorite, please.)

 

I.
waters of time
cast out the darkness
of a thousand teardrops
in the rhythm of the night

 

II.
through the blue
rainshadow sky
the river dances
drifting toward a dream
of canyon sounds
in a western wind

 

III.
out of the mist
promises
memories of comfort

 

IV.
first snow
ocean peace
bamboo forest
in the deep distance
I kiss the quiet

 

V.
breath of sky
sunshine on a stony path
frost on an empty field
summer’s end

 

VI.
the light in your eyes
lifts me on a weightless
incandescent voyage
you are my home

A New Find

I’ve occasionally played around with found poetry, that genre that refashions existing texts to present them as poems.  Poets.org describes found poetry as a literary collage and notes that it usually comes from newspaper articles, speeches, letters, etc.

But I recently discovered another rich source for found poetry: musical titles from the SXM station I most often listen to while in the car. In turning these titles into short poems, I’ve almost always left the titles just as they are, making only the rarest addition of a pronoun or preposition and even more rarely omitting a word from the original.

To offer the greatest possible freedom of interpretation, my SXM found poems are short, generally untitled, and mostly lacking punctuation, choices that seem to offer the best opportunities for individual interpretation. Just the way I like it.

Here are a few. I’ll drop in more in future posts. Because each one is so short but distinct from the others, I think they’re best experienced in small doses. If something particularly strikes you, one way or the other, I hope you’ll comment. I’d like to hear what you think as I keep working on this intriguing poetry style.

I.

all dreams
are made within
looking through
voices of the past

 

II.

the wind
whispers visions
stretching my wings
as the story unfolds

 

III.

desert afternoon
bright sky
dark dreams
in a long lonely light

 

IV.

Swimming with stones
in a dark and silent space
as a clearness of light
beams out of the silence;
now I let it go.

 

V.

miles from nowhere
wind whispers
on a lazy afternoon
I could live here
at one with you

 

Delighting the Senses

I’ve mentioned my writing group before on this blog. I get so many great writing ideas from our two-hour Wednesday sessions. A few weeks ago, we were asked to select from a pile of phrases our illustrious leader had torn from the pages of magazines. I chose “Delight all five senses.” The assignment: in ten minutes, write a poem inspired by our selected phrase. Here’s mine:

Delight in All Five Senses

The taste of homemade ice cream with homegrown blueberries
The smell of a dying midnight campfire
The sound of a baby’s laughter
The touch of a cat nuzzling my sleepy morning cheek
The sight of a long lost friend

The taste of a snowflake melting on my tongue
The smell of spicy ferns as they brush legs on a woodland walk
The sound of a mating wren’s melodious song
The touch of a mossy stone caressing my toes
The sight of fireflies on a moonless June night

Bear Sighting

Have I told you about our late night bear visits? That’s right. We’ve had a bear in our front yard, on our wooded hillside, even on our deck. We named her Shadow. I tried to capture the tale in a rhyming story for the grandkids.

Okay, not the greatest shot, but hey, I was staring at a bear!

SHADOW

It was late, late one night—
I woke up to a crash!
A Kapow! And a Bang!
I jumped up in a dash!

I wandered outside
and what did I see?
A great big black bear
staring at me!

That bear was so black,
that bear was so big
with her cinnamon nose,
I just flipped my wig!

But why was she there
in my yard late at night?
She was eating my birdseed—
every single last bite!

What could she think
of seeing me now
peeking out in the dark
and watching her chow?

I thought she might run,
but I found that instead
she sat on her haunches
slowly turning her head

To give me a stare.
So I stared right back
till I suddenly thought
I ought to backtrack

Or she’ll give me a whack
with her giant bear paws,
or carry me off
in her great big bear jaws.

I tiptoed inside
and called Grampa Ron.
“Come here to the window!”
But the big bear was gone.

And so was the birdseed,
and the bird feeder, too!
We found it next day
at the edge of the wood.

Can you picture that bear,
feeder swinging from mouth
like a big picnic basket,
traveling south?

The next night and the next
she did not come back,
but the following night
what a thwack, whack, and crack!

A tree limb she broke.
Another bird feeder gone!
And where do you think
we picked up this one?

Right! Right you are—
at the edge of the woods
just where she left
the first of her goods!

She was so clever,
that great big old bear;
She gobbled her food
with nary a care.

She hasn’t returned.
I do not know why.
Maybe she’s patiently
waiting for pie!