http://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/2011/06/19/wordle-9-a-bakers-dozen/
Super Nova carves a slit
In middle time sparks fly
Sky explodes lighting the canyon
Hiding places sprinkled with star dust
Gossamer threads wrap sacred serpents
Melody escapes from dried bones
As wind blows lightly echo sounds of flutes
In tangled temples
Mysteries abound
Stories told by the fireside
Etched in memory
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Yesterday I went to Santa Fe to a poetry workshop called the Creative Path of Self Knowledge, conducted in conjunction with the Mining the Unconscious art show. It was conducted by Jane Lipman and Joan Logghe, poet laureate of Santa Fe. One of the things we did was to write in response to a painting of our choice. We were to stand in front of the painting, and silently say, “I allow you to see me, empty, transparent… allow yourself to be seen. I chose a painting by Marcia Oliver (the painting is simular to the picture, but not the same.) This is my writing.
Floating by Marcia Oliver
It is the morning hour
Bells ring
The sound of drumbeats
Float across the mesa
Like the sound of the
Human heart
Sounds of the crier tear me under
Sun begins it’s assent above the mountain
Purple calls unto green
From the depths
Butterflies rise
Chaos abounds
Lights flash
Echoes resound against canyon walls
Quiet room thrown open
Pure self emerges
Words spoken over words
Dissolve into shadows cast
From morning bright moon
Birds sing welcome to new day
Finding connection to lavendar twilight
Nighttime order descends
The day falls into place
Forty-two black birds
Fly over mesa
Seek their evening rookery
annellannell 