all my thoughts blended
as I fly the universe
my brain turned to slush.
Ronovan Writes #Weekly #Haiku #Poetry Prompt #Challenge 390 BLEND(ed/s) and Slush.
Tag: flight
Sue Vincent’s Thursday Photo Prompt. Renewal.
The wind in my feathers, I rise
My sharp eyes see eternity
Making my way into grey skies.
Like my soul I fly free.
The land spreads beneath
From mountains to beach
Golden field and green leaf
As for my destiny I reach.
Tiny pink buds dance in the mist
The day will lengthen and warm
All will be bright and sun kissed
This is the promise of dawn.
The Madness of doors.
The talent Geoff LePard posted about an exhibition he visited at Tate Modern. The exhibition was of the work of Dorothea Tanning. I was so taken by what Geoff had to say about his visit not only the artwork but also an over heard conversation in the cafe. You can read the post here. The Surreal in the Here and Now.
Below is one of Dorothea’s paintings it really took my eye and I had to write a mirror Etheree about it. This is just my interpretation, I am probably well off of the mark. I don’t care because it spoke to me. So thanks to Geoff we have.
The madness of doors.
Mad
You say
I am mad
This demon here
Knows better than that
I just gave birth to it
Don’t dare look at me like that
Mad, no I have opened the doors
Madness lies in closed doors, teathered souls
Clawing at the wood screaming to be free.
Don’t approach, this fruit of my womb may bite.
If you disturb it, it will take flight
Madness lies that way you must know
I’ll not take your food or drink
It will sully my milk
My child needs to feed
To sate it’s greed
I know I
Am not
Mad.
******
The painting is by Dorothea Tanning. It is called Birthday, 1942, Oil on canvas.
I wrote about a birth before I found out it was actually called Birthday.
Thursday Photo Prompt: #writephoto Flight.
This is my entry for Sue Vincent of Daily Echo #writephoto.
This photo brings it all back to me now. As a child I lived on a council estate. The houses were all set out in crescents,each crescent had a green in its centre. The crescents were separated by a line of four houses then a cul du sac of houses, and alleyways to back of our crescent’s houses and oposite the next crescents houses, then another four houses then the next crescent repeated four times.
The houses on the other side of the road were private and backed on to a park. Why am I telling you this.
Well many an evening I would stand in our small back garden and the photo is the view I had. The roof tops, the chimneys with the ariels attached, the sunset/sunrise and the pigeons, especially the pigeons.
The man who lived next door kept racing pigeons, to me as a child hundreds of them. I doubt there were hundreds he had two “pigeon lofts” one the length of his back garden and one the width.
The earliest memories I have are of lying in my pram listening to the cooing of the pigeons. Glimpsing the sky through the sun canopy of my pram.
One of my lasting memories is standing in the backgarden watching the sun setting, hearing the man nextdoor calling in his birds after a race, hearing the joy in his voice as the first of his birds returned, I could feel the excitement as their shilouettes appeared over the roofs.
I have so many memories of the house I grew up in, got married from, took my children back to, to see their grandparents. The man next door his wife and her deaf sister were a large part of my life then.
We were a big family and our Mum and Dad never turned anyone away. There were always people staying over, waifs, strays, distant family, friends and almost strangers. That house with that view was in our lives for sixty years. Even after our parents died my eldest brother bought it and lived there for many years with his family. He sold it on about six years ago and a whole chapter of family life came to an end.
So today’s prompt was very special to me. So thank you Sue for the prompt. I hope that I have not bored anyone to sleep.
Corvus Dear : Nonet
Corvus , Corvus dark of feather bright of eye
Spread your wings and darken the sky.
You are my lover Raven
I am lost, enslaven
Unholy now am I
Take me I cry
In your wings
To fly
High.
Just Jot It January: Time the Enemy
Time flies past at supersonic speed
It takes no prisoners indeed
Through tree tops and sharp brambles
It skips fast and rambles
It slows, for no one
Tarries, not too strong
Not stopping
Moving
On.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Time was her enemy time was her hate
She was determined to destroy it before it was too late.
Time was always rushing her, stealing her days
She sought to defeat it in thousands of ways
Fighting it hating it always a chase
Sadly she never won, it always ended in disgrace.
Finally she could assail time no more
So she took it and beat it and smashed it to the floor!
The Gate Keepers:5
Slowly shrinking, the horizon falls, as the first light shows off it’s starkness.
The boiling new born sea all fresh and wide eyed watches the first dawn’s brightness.
All seems safe and brightly lit when of a sudden the sea and sky turn grey.
Boiling rain begins to fall , and screaming at the horrors of it’s bloody birth this world begins it’s first day.
At first, the sound , a droning was not upon the ears a threat.
Louder it became slowly encompassing all capturing as in a net.
Crawling, across the ground, the horrors advanced across the virgin soil
The gate keepers could only watch and despair at the beginning of their toil.
The faint humming became a drumming louder, louder ever coming
It set the gate keepers feet to fearful running, running.
They fled, they ran , useless though, they were perused becoming sought
They fled like rats from water , faster faster …………. no use before they started they were as good as caught.
Useless
White her wings of feathers light
She prayed would bare her up into the night.
But her brown roller skates of steel and leather
Would never help her escape the stormy weather!
Tethers
She tried, she tried to leave the ground
But her tethers were just too profound.
Her wings of gossamer now thread bare
Had lost all shape and begun to tear.
No hope had she that she could fly
No more than the birds above would let her up into the sky.
Her head bleeding her body splinting
She had no hope left, she was a lamb duck sitting.
Hope and faith had waved goodbye
They had left her out there to die.
And yet she yearned to fly to join the birds up in the sky.
If she could only escape the bindweed and fly.
Drowning
Running through the tunnel, afraid of my own shadow
I can’t breath this place is dark and so narrow.
I hear the river on the other side of the wall
she is whispering and to me I hear her call.
She’s after me I know, if I trip she’ll catch me as I fall.
She is flowing , flowing her powers growing, growing
Fingers rippling , rippling reaching out for me
Please don’t let her catch hold of me or I shall never again be free.
I hear her she is seeping through the walls
in my ears her voice, as my name she calls
My lungs hurt with heaving. I am lost
I need to escape but freedom comes at a cost.
Here she comes flowing fast around my feet,
I am exhausted now she has hold of me now I am beat.
Slowly now she is flowing up my body there is no point to fight
I give in, I give up she has won. I release you soul hurry take flight.
She is flowing , flowing her powers growing growing
Fingers rippling , rippling reaching out for me
Please don’t let her catch hold of me or I shall never again be free.
willowdot21 
