looking at the pieces of rice paper, the fibres twist, turn through threads of memories & dreams, drifting clouds caress sun’s rays & ocean’s sprays, turquoise green spirals up-downward pale confused awakening knowledge seeping through roots of time-generation’s call; emerging from mist memory – Lost Lemuria, some call Mu, Pan-Pacifica Zealandia, it calls out of fable reveries like childhood fancies fabricated in endless summer’s haze of greenflowerfragrancefolds-tornleafthornbarktears; kitten string play paws tangle-unwind mural maps from Lost Lemuria’s walls that sing-weeping for place-things now uncharted – spheres of knowledge etched woven to connect dream, sky, surf impassioned shores with the latitude & longitude of the pieces of ideated engraved equations.
lost continent’s lore
leaves holes in certainty’s stance-
fancy laps at feet
For more fancies see: Atlantean Wall Murals
I saw you Coco Blue, on the dance floor with your silver sunglasses, twisting the air between the melody and the beat. You died, then The Crowd gathered round, snapping shots & chatter, as they tried to capture the true shade of Coco Blue, while all the time arguing over whether your shoes were red or purple; even then your feet shouted out one final message to your giant magenta macaw in the Other Room, such a pretty bird.
Oh what a night for things
said and unsaid, other doors –
fly high big macaw.
Night vision photos
capture the movement between –
a dance floor heartbeat………….
Another ambiguous two sentence mystery narrative to go with the first three Night Vision compositions.Turned it into haibun by concluding with haiku stanzas. Added the music for the haunting quality – was not able to find a translation, but it is that uncertainty that fits the post.
The victim sat rigid in the chair, as the Immaculate Detective approached the crime scene. The heady smell rose from the still warm glue gun at the the victim’s feet; with one look, the Immaculate Detective knew that Sir Sheddly Limpetskew the third had been asphyxiated in his Great Grandfather’s antique chair by The Mad Hobbyist of Blythe.
Stepping on cold clues –
the case cracked wide open now –
winter ice broke pane,
clearly, in snow the truth fled:
shampoo dreams went to his head.
Note: Inspired by Claudia McGill’s two-sentence stories & poetry . I included lots of word-play & a rather intense pun. Music for those who need music – don’t we all ?
I’m speaking with myself for one –
I have a very good brain.
I know the best words…….
Most people don’t know that.
Did you know that ?
Did You know that ?
My view matters. That’s the way it goes.
What goes around comes around –
it is a phrase we are going through,
spilling into awareness –
birds fluttering in a dry puddle.
A modest suggestion for an IQ test for those seeking to hold political office. IQ tests evaluate the ability to learn information and skills, and then effectively apply that learning to solve problems. For those wishing to hold political office, they should be evaluated for their intellectual ability to apply empathy and ethics when solving problems in an effective manner. The test should measure their understanding of collaboration, collateral damage, and the implied spaces that extend beyond any solution.
The test should give an accurate evaluation of the subject’s ability to formulate a plan , and efficaciously communicate both the plan and the underlying goals. The level of communication skills will indicate how well the message is presented to a diverse audience.
Stepping into pool
The depth of ignorance grows –
ripples crash shorelines.
Note: The found poem, and their related images, spring from a series of statements ( repeated catch phrases ) made by President Trump (See embedded links). This post combines found poetry, haibun and haiku. I have attempted to use the best words possible. Many thanks for your thoughts & interest.
We had an appointment in Sudbury. The road and time stretched ahead, the minutes piled up with the line of vehicles waiting to take a turn – road construction built up the flow of seconds.
In a pause of motion, an early bit of Fall colour waited at the road side for the season to catch up.
When I was younger, I was not as old, my travel bag carried fewer memories –
leaves turn red, now Fall –
at the side of the road waits
a moment recall’d.