Stilled Winds

NaPo is upon us!  April may be the cruelest month for many-layered reasons in Eliot’s world, but it is my favorite month as a writer and poet.  A remarkable thing happens each year as April approaches; my muse, the flow of inspiration and writing, dries up, leaving me fearful that I will have nothing for April.  But then, April 1^st hits and as though the quiet period was a big April Fool’s joke, it unleashes itself and the writing comes flooding back. I try to stay mystical with it and not get too psychological or logical about the process.

Today is March 31^st. Today is a full moon; a Blue Moon; the second Blue Moon in two months.  A rarity in rarities.  I look forward to these events, often with my camera in hand, but this one is going to be a bust here in Florida – our forecast is for clouds this evening. But like my writing, I know that big moon is back there behind those clouds.  It’s not really the best analogy, I know, but it’s all I have this morning, pre-coffee.

For the last couple of days I have been reflective and in listening mode.  I have felt that compelling, chest-expanding sensation that usually comes with a burst of writing.  There are words, images, thoughts, bouncing around in me awaiting the firing of the starting gun. On your mark, get set….

stilled winds turn to storms
blue moon sheltered by dense clouds
white heron dips dives

© Jilly’s All Rights Reserved

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Loss of the Grey Areas (A Lament)

“I have seen eyes in the street”
Felt their dark, dark pupils greet
the piano keys of white
and black, striking strings that bite

through my palms, poison complete.
Fleeing the scene, blistered feet,
In circles returning; flight
is not to be; kiss the kite

flown as a surrender flag
Take our tongues- a body bag;
Stand and greet the rising sun;
Stand and greet the day undone.

Quoted text from T.S. Eliot’s Rhapsody on a Windy Night

© Jilly’s  All Rights Reserved

Frank challenges us to write in the Tanaga form at dVerse.  Join us!

Eggscomunicated

A Silly Jilly story with a not-so-subtle allusion for the Eggerific Quadrille at dVerse.  Eggsellent of you to read, my friends!  Do scramble on down and leave a comment; serious or yolking.  A toast of the nog to Kim for being such a good egg and hosting tonight.

Eggnominiously eating every
bruised blackberry blini
Wallace wasn’t worthy
of officious offerings of
forgiveness feigningly foisted
upon undue umbrage

Unrepentantly he penned:
“This is just to say”
and
“Forgive me”
but
Wilimina was
swayed
not.

The pantry was purged
of all prestigious
fruits forever.

© Jilly & Silly Jilly  All Rights Reserved

 

 

Take the Soul by Storm

closet-divers dive
pots-n-pan pounders clang

I strip my soul naked
dance rave rage whirl
in the face of

what can light up
the body
tear down the flesh
murder the blood
the bone
the nerves

can only quicken
animate
invigorate
the soul
the Soul
the SOUL
dances
rages
raves
whirls
rip open the shirt
that covers
the depths
beg with the lightning
paint a target
on this chest
bring me to life

© Jilly’s 

Soul Poetry at dVerse.  Seems appropriate that in celebration of the Spring Equinox we should have tornado warnings here in Orlando.  Bring it on! This weather revives me.

Radar Image While Writing! Wooo Hooo!!

Genesis

“Hush, my One”
the house is quiet
“sleep you now”
marbled sighs
the rise, the fall of my ribs
as metered with yours

“dawn won’t come”
the walls speak but low
“’til we die”
gallowed cries
the rise, the fall of your arms
gathered up with mine

“drink the wine”
startled sing the birds
“draught of time”
bind the ties
the fall, the rise of this day
linger there as One.

Amaya challenges us to write in the Shadorma poetic form at dVerse.

Into the Sun

Far-fetched fires
nonetheless
they strike you
as you round the corner
unprepared for the stunning
atrocities of every lost moment
that a century of poets
could not name

Shift your coffee to the other hand
tip your head and watch the ashes
rising up

 

© Jilly’s  All Rights Reserved

dVerse Quadrille