Heaven with You

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My fingers are smudged in color
–reds, golds, greens and blues
 –like I’ve dipped my hands into
endless galaxies and wiped 
a thousand stars upon my skirt.

My head is spinning with
the gravity of a dozen planets,
and I lean into the tidal pull
of at least that many moons.
When they rise across the sky–

will you raise your voice and
howl at them with me, while
a thousand shooting stars
light up the night, exploding
in the atmosphere of my flesh?

—–

AUDIO FILE:

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Distance (a #NaPoMo #APRPAD rondeau poem)

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Carry me with you, near or far.
Tuck me in your right hip pocket.
My heart will be just where you are.
Hang me ’round your neck — a locket.

Close the door, or leave it ajar —
I’ll stick by you, ball and socket.
Carry me with you, near or far.
I’ll be in your right hip pocket.

Let’s adventure to realms afar?
We can fly! Don’t mind the clock — it’s
ours to choose, by plane or rocket.
We’ll watch the moon, count every star.
I’ll go with you, near or far.

—–

#NaPoMo INFO:
Poetic Asides #April Poem-A-Day Challenge – PAD #4:

For today’s prompt, write a distance poem. As a runner, I automatically think of running when I think distance. But hey, there’s long distance relationships. Or why not get beyond geographic distance and consider distance in terms of time or emotional distance. Or some other interpretation.

http://www.writersdigest.com/whats-new/2016-april-pad-challenge-day-4

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POETIC FORM INFO:
The poetic form focus for my PAD 2016 Challenge is the Rondeau — 13 lines in 3 stanzas; rhyme scheme: ABba/abAB/abbaA (uppercase letters are refrains) Usually 8 syllables per line. For info: http://www.writersdigest.com/editor-blogs/poetic-asides/personal-updates/help-me-rondeau-help-help-me-rondeau-another-french-poetic-form

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AUDIO FILE:

Three Wishes – a #NaPoMo #APRPAD Modified Rondeau

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Three Wishes Dandelion by Helen Holmes Photography

 

Close your eyes. Make a wish. Count to three.
I believe you can fly. You’ve got wings.
There is real magic here, can’t you see–
how it shines, just like stars, how it swings?

Light a match. Hold your breath. Turn the key.
Listen close: There’s a voice and it sings.
Close your eyes. Make a wish. Count to three.
Take a leap. Trust your heart and its wings.

I can show you how, if you’ll trust me.
Nothing up my sleeves, no tricks, no strings.
I craft my spells from favorite things–
like the way your eyes say you love me.
Close them now. Make a wish. Count to three.

—–
#NaPoMo INFO:
Poetic Asides #April Poem-A-Day Challenge – PAD #3:
For today’s prompt, take the phrase “Three (blank),” replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write your poem. Possible titles include: “Three Blind Hippos,” “Three Muskrats,” “Three’s Company,” “Three Movies Is Too Many for The Hobbit, Peter Jackson (just saying),” and so on.
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POETIC FORM INFO:
The poetic form focus for my PAD 2016 Challenge is the Rondeau — 13 lines in 3 stanzas; rhyme scheme: ABba/abAB/abbaA (uppercase letters are refrains) Usually 8 syllables per line. For info: http://www.writersdigest.com/editor-blogs/poetic-asides/personal-updates/help-me-rondeau-help-help-me-rondeau-another-french-poetic-form
NOTE:
For this poem, I’ve modifed the Rondeau to 9 syllables per line, all other conventions remain the same.
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AUDIO FILE:

Foolish – a Rondeau

(with a bit of nonce* in the style of Lewis Carroll)

 

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You may find me mad and foolish —
my head in a sky full of stars,
hiding poems in socks and jars.
Do you think that’s gimb and trulish?

Of course I learned from monks prulish,
to tell tall-tales and steal memoirs.
That may well sound cruel and foolish,
make your head spin, your eyes see stars —

Are you feeling ill and mookish?
Yes, I stack books in damp bazaars,
and my methods won’t sell cigars —
so your judgment may be roufish.
Still, I like me odd and foolish!


*nonce (näns/) – adjective
  1. (of a word or expression) coined for or used on one occasion.

    “a nonce usage”


 

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#NaPoMo INFO:
Poetic Asides #April Poem-A-Day Challenge – PAD #1:

For today’s prompt, write a foolish poem. It’s April Fool’s Day, after all. Let’s loosen up today with a poem in which we’re fools, others are fools, or there’s some kind of prank or tomfoolery happening. Fool around with it a while. http://www.writersdigest.com/whats-new/2016-april-pad-challenge-day-1

 

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POETIC FORM INFO:
The poetic form focus for my PAD 2016 Challenge is the Rondeau — 13 lines in 3 stanzas; rhyme scheme: ABba/abAB/abbaA (uppercase letters are refrains) Usually 8 syllables per line. For info: http://www.writersdigest.com/editor-blogs/poetic-asides/personal-updates/help-me-rondeau-help-help-me-rondeau-another-french-poetic-form

 

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AUDIO FILE:

advice from e.e. cummings

climbing

*on a day when i face my climb alone,
a beloved poem by e.e cummings
can say everything i need to hear.
this is my response:

advice from e.e. cummings

run to the woods
for the sun is warm
he said, “trees are their roots
and wind is wind’

so, when you feel alone
climbing your mountain
you can “trust your heart
if the seas catch fire”

you’re surrounded by strength
you are loved by many,
so “live by love
though the stars walk backward”

the words of a fool
will lose their power in truth
while you ‘dance your death
away at this wedding’

———-

AUDIO FILE:

Spilled Milky Way (a golden shovel poem)

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This summer night is overflowing
with glittering ink from the heavens
from an upturned bottle of
ebony, running thickly, squandered
against a pin-pricked page of stars

—–

POETIC FORM – Golden Shovel

-Take a line (or lines) from a poem you admire.
-Use each word in the line (or lines) as an end word in your poem.
-Keep the end words in order.
-Give credit to the poet who originally wrote the line (or lines).
-The new poem does not have to be about the same subject as the poem that offers the end words.
-If you pull a line with six words, your poem would be six lines long. If you pull a stanza with 24 words, your poem would be 24 lines long. And so on.

Vastness

For small creatures such as we the vastness is bearable only through love. – Carl Sagan

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I have a lover who stargazes with me.

We began our journey under a crescent moon, and stumbled our way to the full, in a pool beneath the night sky. Ever since those first encounters, we’ve been wandering in an ocean of magical light and energy, marveling at stardust, enthralled by the moon in all her prowess. He gazes at me, as I breathe in the night, and he turns his face to the heavens, squeezes my fingers in his, as the wonder of eternity unfolds before us. He believes we are made of star-stuff, and inhales that vastness with me. He and I are similar, in this view of the universe. I knew it the moment I listened to the first song he sent me. “A Thousand Years” by Sting very much took my breath.

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This love we share is full of mystery, galaxies unfolding in my head. He is a musician, an artist, a bohemian spirit with his own unique way of thinking, loving, living. I am a poet girl, artist, barefoot gypsy dreamer. We are like a window opening on the great wide expanse that is the night sky, and when I think I’m beginning to understand, the world tilts, the moon slips behind a cloud, and the window closes. The more we unwind, the more mystery I find.

From the first time we met, there has been this resonance between us. He reminds me, more than ever, to turn my face upward, and note what small creatures we truly are. Still, to be so small, we are not insignificant. We have power, and influence, as the tiniest pebble upon the surface of an ocean. We create ripples, we have energy, we make a difference. We make art, music, poetry, and love.

This week, I found again a favorite poem by Rainer Maria Rilke:

Overflowing heavens of squandered stars
flame brilliantly above your troubles. Instead
of into your pillows, weep up toward them.
There, at the already weeping, at the ending visage,
slowly thinning out, ravishing
worldspace begins. Who will interrupt,
once you force your way there,
the current? No one. You may panic,
and fight that overwhelming course of stars
that streams toward you. Breathe.
Breathe the darkness of the earth and again
look up! Again. Lightly and facelessly
depths lean toward you from above. The serene
countenance dissolved in night makes room for you.

–Rainer Maria Rilke, Paris, April 1913, 
from _Uncollected poems_ selected and translated
by Edward Snow New York : North Point Press, 1996

The very idea that the overwhelming vastness of space — those depths lean in, making room for our gaze, our face, our presence — this is the wonder that takes my breath and prompts me to reach for his hand.

When We Met Pluto (a nonet poem)

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I carry a photo of Pluto
tucked away inside my pocket
corners creased, colors fading
it reminds me of you
on the day we met
her, hand in hand
gazing at
the night
sky

POETIC FORM: NONET
a 9-line poem that has 9 syllables in the first line, 8 syllables in the second line, 7 syllables in the third line, and continues to count down to 1 syllable in the final (9th) line.