she winds her way
from the mountain deep
life springing forth
through roots, over moss
covered stone…the river
is long, beautiful and
wild…she never rests
~kat
Monthly Archives: December 2017
Magnetic Poetry Monday
Shi Sai Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 10 December 2017
I must say that as interesting as this week’s reVerse is, I am most smitten with the last two lines. I wish I had written them in a single poem. Well I did,sort of, in this poem. Which is precisely why I love this weekly ritual. Choosing favorite lines from each post of the previous week always results in new inspiration or sets me on a course of heady reflection.
Back to my two favorite lines…
they will whisper
light is not quiet
Whoa…that is a mindful! Light is not quiet. Set a single lit candle in a dark room and you will see how loud she is! Light has also been likened to truth and neither is truth quiet. Though the purveyors of untruths believe they can silence truth, relegating it to whispers at water coolers, confessionals, and behind closed doors, it is only a matter of time. Once a whisper is allowed to escape it trickles from a stream to a gush to a deluge until the dam breaks.
We have witnessed the rage of this inevitable force of natural law these past few weeks. Like Pandora, truth seeks reparations for the assault of having been imprisoned inside the confines of its chamber.
She is fierce. She is brilliant. She is legion. And the terrible secret she has held for decades, for centuries, has found its voice. A whisper at first…and then a roar, “me too”.
We can only hope that we don’t try to contain her. To lock her away once the dust settles, like we do with so many other flickers of truth that come to light. She has a lesson to teach us. One hopes we are listening.
Shi Sai Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 10 December 2017
softly she comes
mom called…her angel
silken shrouded death
life’s for the living
it’s all relative
so much for their brilliant plan
We miss you! Come back!
when people wake up
it was such a sad story, you see,
once touted as all the rage
…I love the futility of it all
tell me who you are
go for brilliance
when we look up we see the same sky
they will whisper
light is not quiet
~kat
A shi sai or ReVerse poem is a summary poem with a single line lifted from each entry of a collection of work over a particular timeframe and re-penned in chronological order as a new poem. Unlike a collaborative poem, the shi sai features the words of one writer, providing a glimpse into their thoughts over time. I use it as a review of the previous week.
Saturday Magnets
The muse is being philosophical today…😉
light is not quiet
we’d know this
if we were listening
they will whisper
do it anyway
live like no one
is watching
i love knowing
that somewhere
in the world flowers
are blooming and
day is night…when
we look up we see
the same sky
go for brilliance
or not at all
there is no almost
to breathing
~kat
Tell Me Who You Are
Tell Me Who You Are
tell me who you are
not what you are; that’s just an illusion
tell me who you are
with beautiful words, show me your heart
identifiers just cause confusion
and labels to presumptive conclusions
tell me who you are
~kat
A Rondelet (AbAabbA). Photo by 3dman_eu @ Pixabay.
The Midnighters
“Parliament is in session,” declared Ozzie, “we have a couple of live ones this evening!”
“Whooooooh…I love the futility of it all,” hooted Ollie.
Orville chimed in, “Foooooools.”
Otto, the quiet one, just ogled. He was good at ogling and freaking out fearful humans. ‘Am I a good omen or a bad one…whooooo can tell?’
“Shhhh!” Otis screeched.
“Whooo, look! They’re coming!” Odin announced.
Two souls bolted over the hill and into the valley, their hapless former selves stumbling behind in pursuit. It was futile, just as Ollie had said. After a few dips and swoops the souls faded into the mist, leaving their fleshy hosts in darkness.
Once a person loses his soul it is nearly impossible to get it back. Give your soul an inch of freedom from reason and it is sure to bolt. It’s a slippery slope. An epidemic of epic proportions orchestrated by legions of soul-less heads who are miserable and in need of adoring followers.
But at least the midnighters were entertained.
“They never had a chance,” sighed Ollie.
“Same time tomorrow then?” Odin asked his fellows.
“Wouldn’t miss it. This is better than barn crashing!” Orville guffawed.
“Whoooo’ll be next? Whooooo knows?”
~kat
A bit of silliness for Jane Dougherty’s Microfiction Challenge based on the odd painting above, that I discovered, after a quick google search, is by Hugo Gerhard Simberg (24 June 1873 – 12 July 1917), a Finnish symbolist painter and graphic artist.
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