Poems of the Week - Magaly, Rommy and De

We have three gorgeous poems for you today, my friends, written by Magaly Guerrero, who writes at her blog of the same name, Rommy Driks, of Kestril's Rhythms and Groove, and De Jackson, of  Whimsygizmo's Blog. Take a moment's break from your busy day, dive into these luscious lines, and let your soul take a little flight around the ceiling, before  turning your mind back to its daily tasks. Enjoy! 

GLASS EMPTIED OF CLOUDS

My glass was half full, but
I was proud of its contents,
excited about possibilities…

“Oh, the life I can bring to fill
my empty half,” I used to say.

Then you came,
bringing your thoughts
into my days.

“Empty your glass,” you said,
“I have a fill of wonders.”

I allowed the emptying…

…and you filled my glass
with clouds
that looked like heavenly dreams
falling like cool expectations
against the flush of my cheeks.

I closed my eyes,
and waited for wonders…
that weren’t meant to be.

Now,
with eyes open
and opened again,
I see
huge nothings
filling the space that is you.
And I grin…
as I gather the pieces
of my glass emptied of clouds,

of clouds that seeped into dirt
and were boiled clean by the sun,
in promise of better rains…

Beaming
under a cloudless sky,
I am
fixing my glass,
prettying its cracks,
naming the breaks,
proud of my work,
excited about possibilities

I will build true…

Magaly Guerrero, May 2017

Sherry: I love "you filled my glass with clouds." So beautiful. And there is  so much strength in "I will build true." Yes!

Magaly:  This poem was written as an explanation - some friends (who didn't know me well enough to understand my behavior) - thought I was acting too strange, too quiet, perhaps not distraught enough...after breaking up with someone I had been with for some time. I wanted to let them know that I was, indeed, quite upset. But endings are the start of new beginnings. So, I was also excited about what would come next. There was no need to cry (for too long) over broken things, especially when we can repair the breaks, while absorbing lessons that can make us better.

Sherry: It takes life wisdom to keep the good, and look forward with hope. Beautiful, Magaly. Our friend Rommy wrote a very beautiful poem that I thought would go beautifully with yours. Let's take a peek.

NIGHTINGALE HOURS

Wildness floats around you,

wolf wicked,

but I’m no little girl

to be dandelion led.

I am a pebble-strewer,

hoping you’d find your way

to my hidden home.

Delight-whisperer, come

find me quick

amid the mysteries

of the sentinel forest.

Bring your power

midnight mage.

I’ve plenty of my own.

Bring your passion

moon brigand,

and see that I

am just as adept at stealing

kisses and nightingale hours

as you are.

Rommy Driks, May 2017

Sherry: I love "wolf wicked", and "dandelion led" so much! And the speaker's confidence: "I have plenty of my own."

Rommy: The poem came about as a response to a prompt at Imaginary Gardens With Real Toads, Kennings. A kenning is an old Norse Literary device (wikipedia definition: A kenning (Modern Icelandic pronunciation: [cʰɛnːiŋk]; derived from Old Norse) is a type of circumlocution, in the form of a compound that employs figurative language in place of a more concrete single-word noun. Kennings are strongly associated with Old Norse and later Icelandic and Anglo-Saxon poetry.)

It is a strongly passionate piece. I'm not sure I can say what inspired me to go that route with the prompt. I just enjoy writing passionate pieces from time to time. What I like about it is while that the speaker strongly desires to be in the presence of their lover, but there is a confidence in them that you don't always get in the presence of intense emotion. The speaker knows they are as desired (and have as much to offer) as much as they desire their beloved. It's a very mature side of passion.

Sherry: It is wonderful: full of passion, assurance, confidence, and, yes, the mature side of love. Let's see what De has to say about life, and being......and poetry.

STORIES SNAPPED IN HALF, AND SHONE

We are born of ash and sigh
-lence, quiet spirits caved
in rain and song,
dark skeletal tree limbs
unsure of their own thin origins;
reaching for sky.

We count our rings, the things
that tell us who we are and
how old and why
we might possibly wish
for something more,
something radiating under
all this troubled skin.

You may find us rooted, or
washed away by our own salt.

You may find our syllables
too short,
too long,
unsung,
but that’s not our fault.

De Jackson, May 2017

Sherry: First, I love your title so much! And how I love the tree limbs reaching for sky. 

De: This is one of those times when the title came first. I pictured poem glow sticks snapping to life, and lighting up the night. The moon, half of her usual golden self, but still illuminating everything.

The things we show the world: our raised limbs, our smallest stories. With an inspiring word list from over at The Sunday Whirl to fuel the fire, the poem just spilled out from there.

Sherry: And so beautifully! Thank you, De. I adore the idea of poems as glow sticks, shedding light.

Many thanks to each of you wonderful poets, for sharing your beautiful poems and thoughts with us today. So much beauty, with which to begin another poetry week.

Do come back and see who we talk to next, my friends. Who knows? It might be you!