October 14, 2012 Sunday Whirl Wordle #78

 

Childhood of the Day

The first hour of light

The sun having cleared

Taos Mountain

A soft blue-grey

Deeper blue near the horizon

A pink band above

Like the inside of a shell

Washed ashore

Lonely

Forgotten

Standing in silence

Thunder forgotten

Vows given

No excuses

Quiet anticipation

Awaiting the shift

The day promised

Becoming

An umbrella of abstractions

Joined sunshine and shadows

360 degrees

An inheritance of inspiration

Saturday August 11, 2012 Writing Challenge

Out of Paint
Headed south
Taos in the rearview mirror
Thinking of you
Wonder where you are

Sunflowers bloom yellow
Along roadside
Rocks lie in wait
For someone to carry
Them to new places

The New Mexico
Sky a pale blue
Shrouding mountains
On the horizon

Yellow sign marks crossing
For Mr. Romero’s cow
Evergreens gather
In the foothills

Buffalo, elk jerky
And pinion nuts
Sold along roadside
Winding down
Into the canyon
Following the Rio Grand
All is lush and green

Near the river
Trees grow tall
A short distance away
Ancient old trees
Stunted in their growth
The sun bakes and cracks
The surface of the earth

Without water
The desert is austere
Clings to life on the edge

Emergency trip to Santa Fe
Paint-box empty
No paint for
What seems a “lifetime”
The art supply store is
Permanently closed
For the artist
Without paint
Life is austere

Summer Writing Challenge

Sunday June 19, 2022 Poetry Worshop/ Sundaywhirl

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

____________________________________________________________

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