Ronovan Writes #Weekly #Haiku #Poetry Prompt #Challenge 390 BLEND(ed/s) and Slush.

Ronovanwrite’s.

Photo by Wesley Carvalho on Pexels.com

all my thoughts blended
as I fly the universe
my brain turned to slush.

THIS IS PART OF RONOVANWRITE’S WEEKLY HAIKU CHALLENGE.

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.

#writephoto.

Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo

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. 

Rules and Pingback Here

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 Dear

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

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 no more

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

https://si0.twimg.com/profile_images/1593343764/alien.jpg

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.

https://willowdot21.files.wordpress.com/2013/07/e17ca-fotos-terror.jpg

Useless

http://momondo.com/blogs/culture/dreams_of_flight_painting.jpg

 

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

http://ih3.redbubble.net/image.4324780.4325/flat,550×550,075,f.jpg

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

http://cdn.trendhunterstatic.com/

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.