Save Your Prayers

‘Away, come away:

Empty your heart of its mortal dream.’ – W.B. Yeats

save your prayers, please, just save them
words of pious supplication
apathy’s justification
reason scorned, and truth forsaken
save your prayers
don’t tell me your heart is breaking
over pain of your own making
hoarding grace, from others, taking
hearts afraid of shadows, quaking
save your prayers, please
just save them

~kat

Today’s quote for Jane Dougherty’s A Month With Yeats is from his poem ‘The Hosting of the Sidhe’.


Magnetic Poetry Monday

we have only ourselves
to blame for the crap
embraced by fools
these days, who make
all things once sacred
a hot, wild mess that
eyes the ocean over
see, bringing them
to fits of laughter

~kat 😳

Magnetic Poetry – Poet Kit


Shi Sai Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 12 November 2017

With every sensational soundbite, those who are paying too close attention (I am all to easily sucked in…guilty as charged) are reeling from the downward spiral of our uncivil civilization. I happen to have an American front row seat, but from your comments; you my friends across the pond, and from the north, south and east, this current state of unrest seems to be global. With nuclear options being flexed and monsters being exposed, I have even heard the “A” word mumbled under pundits baited breaths. “A” for apocalypse…oh my!

But I’m not buying it. And, well, if I’m wrong….that’s okay. I can deal with being wrong especially since there won’t be anyone around to say “I told you so…” Why am I not buying it? Not yet? There is still enough good in the world to hold this implosion at bay. Patriarchy is going down. Hate is being exposed for the ugly blight that it is. And we are starting to believe the women…and the innocents when they point at the emperor declaring that he is buck naked. He’s always been naked. I know it’s a shock, but that’s how truth rolls.

At any rate, the bad guys will still try to distract us from the truth, blame the victims, call monsters heroes. I don’t expect them to go down without a fight. But they are clearly desperate. That’s a good sign.

I know you’re weary. But we’re in the final stretch it seems to me. The apocalypse may be coming, but for a chosen few. I expect to be standing when the smoke settles.

Peace, truth, love…resist! ❤️

Shi Sai Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 12 November 2017

she lights up a room / she’s a sorceress cackling, tock-tick-tick-tock-<
ainful<
..sorry to interrupt your eternal bliss<
ool nor-eastern zephyr whispers<
aging from coal soot nostrils<
rumbling to dust<
he burning stench of liquid iron, oozing<
hoose me, choose me<
..haven for hoards of crude middling beasties<
irtue is disdained<
oo beautiful to bear<
o not lose heart<
hey’re going down<
eartless fools who<
ish that you were here instead<
..brief glimmers of recognition

~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.


Through the Breach of Tar and Pebbles

‘He made the world to be a grassy road

Before her wandering feet.’ -W.B. Yeats

Through the Breach of Tar and Pebbles

iron spires wrapped in nettles
splintery oak and knobby pine
iron spires wrapped in nettles

facades eroding, lost to time
penetrating every crevice
splintery oak and knobby pine

tendrils snaking ‘round a trellis
ghosted spaces, gently greening
penetrating every crevice

vibrant once again and teeming
blooms emerge and bumbles fly
ghosted spaces, gently greening

traces of human touch, disguised
Gaia’s voice calls forth the living
blooms emerge and bumbles fly

bursting forth from clay forgiving
iron spires wrapped in nettles
Gaia’s voice calls forth the living
iron spires wrapped in nettles

~kat

A Terzanelle for Jane Dougherty’s A Month With Yeats -Day Twelve Poetry Challenge inspired by the verse above from Yeats’ poem, ‘The Rose of the World’.


The Earrings

Charlie still had brief glimmers of recognition when Eileen came to visit, especially when she wore the emerald earrings he had given her so many years ago.

She’d had her eye on those beauties at Bloomies, dropping by every day on her lunch break.

Charlie worked the jewelry counter then. He looked forward to her daily visits. When Eileen finally agreed to go on a date with him, he brought along a secret weapon to win her heart; those earrings. Smart man, that Charlie.

Now, they were Eileen’s secret weapon.

“Hello Emmy,” he beamed.

Eileen smiled. Charlie’s heart remembered.

~kat

99 Words for Friday Fictioneers (a few days late…busy week) based on the PHOTO PROMPT © MARIE GAIL STRATFORD.