POEMS OF THE WEEK: BY KIM R., LINDA AND COLLEEN

This week, we are featuring three beautiful poems by Kim Russell, of Writing in North Norfolk, Linda Lyberg, of Charmed Chaos, and Colleen Redman, of  Loose Leaf Notes . We're sure you will enjoy them. Top up your cup of tea, and pull your chairs in close. You won't want to miss a single word.

Poetry As a Cry in the Dark

I call out to you in the dead of night.

Dawn seems so far away.

Enlightenment is shrouded in shadow.

A moment of solitary despair.

A moonbeam of ecstasy

and words appear.

The hoot and screech of owls pivot the changing light.

Even a poet feels the weight of sleep heavy on her eyes, when it was poetry that roused her from her bed.

To rejoice as a poet, you must learn to mourn with bluebells and violets, roost with rooks and crows in tall trees, where a nightingale might sing yet.

Sherry: This is so beautiful, Kim. I especially love a poet needing to learn to mourn with bluebells. 

Kim: Thank you for considering my poem, ‘Poetry as a Cry in the Dark’ as one of your Poems of the Week. I am, of course, more than happy for you to feature it.

It’s difficult to write a paragraph about it as it was back in April, right in the middle of NaPoWriMo, when we were all writing one or more poems a day! I wrote it in response to a prompt from Anmol on Day 16 of Poems in April at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads. Anmol asked us to write a poem entitled ‘Poetry as…’, perhaps in the style of Ferlinghetti, who had just turned 100, and he gave us Ferlinghetti’s poem ‘Poetry as Insurgent Art (I am signalling you through the flames)’ as inspiration. I liked the form of that poem so much that I decided to try to emulate it, while writing about my own experience of poetry, which often keeps me up at night or wakes me up in the middle of the night or the wee small hours of the morning.

Sherry: You achieved your goal wonderfully, Kim. Thank you for sharing it. Linda's poem will follow it perfectly.

Bluebonnet Sky

So you’ve been through the roaring fire 
Leaving you maimed, a soul of charred ashes 
But rising from this molten funeral pyre 
Comes a new woman with scars on scars. 

You must know though flawed, you are beautiful 
for you shimmer with the light of fractured stars
and you’ve heard the haunting mystical song 
of the grey mockingbird in pink light of dawn 
His singing sets your broken heart free to soar–
Euphoria your guide, higher and brighter
while you dance with glee in a majestic bluebonnet sky.

Sherry: This is so beautiful, Linda. I love the power and beauty of a woman who has walked through the fire, and can still dance. Love "You shimmer with the light of fractured stars." 

Linda: After over two years of writing poetry on a daily basis, I have learned that the truest poems come from the heart. I wrote this poem on a day when I was missing my mom and missing my birthplace - Texas.

In 1994, I suffered a terrible personal tragedy. Shortly thereafter, I had the opportunity to move to Philadelphia for a job promotion. Once I moved away, I never lived in Texas again for it still holds bittersweet memories. 

I live in Arizona now and I love the desert, but there are times when Texas whispers to my heart, 'Come home'. This was one of those lonely days. 

The Mockingbird is the state bird and the Bluebonnet the state flower. The Mockingbird's song is one of the most beautiful. And if you've never seen a Bluebonnet field in person, it is the most amazing shade of blue.

source

 Sherry: It is breathtaking! Thank you, Linda, for your beautiful poem, and for sharing your thoughts with us.

I think Colleen's poem is going to finish off this feature very beautifully. Let's take a look.

Medicine Wheel Moon  

The sun plunges low
Jets trail like tribal arrows
 
Vultures circle like warriors
and startled doves cry
 
The moon meets the horizon
like a sacred hoop rising
 
Like a white buffalo omen
Dreamcatcher of hope

Colleen Redman photo

Sherry: Your imagery is spectacular in this poem, Colleen. Wow.

Colleen: I live on the scenic Blue Ridge Parkway and frequently drive to a nearby overlook to watch sunsets and moonrises.  As I waited for the April moon to rise over the mountain, a group of deer came into the field to feed. It was quiet and I was struck by the beauty of it all, but I was also unsettled due to current events and the unpredictability of our current administration.  The “jets trail like tribal arrows” and the warrior vultures startling doves reflects my sense of being in danger and on guard. 

As the moon began to peek up, I first began to think of it as a great white buffalo, a sacred symbol of hope to the Lakota tribe.  I began to think of the moon with amazement and as one of the great hoops of life that would hold us all together. Maybe it was a dreamcatcher that could catch the bad dreams we are having now. I knew it was a good medicine wheel of the natural world that we especially needed now.   I felt restored in the experience and a poem was born. 

Sherry: This is so beautiful, Colleen, both the poem, and your thoughts about it. I have always been fascinated by the legend of Buffalo Calf Woman, who will arrive with a white buffalo calf, as a hopeful sign. I see many white animals appearing in various locations now. Signs, I believe, in these unsettled times, a warning that we need to move quickly, and are in urgent need for good medicine to heal this ailing world. Thank you so much for writing this poem, and for sharing it here. It is not to be missed.

Thank you, Kim, Linda and Colleen, for gracing us with such beauty today. Do come back, friends, and see who we talk to next. Who knows? It might be you!