Saturday, May 17, 2014

Black Forest

Over in the Imaginary Garden, Hannah shared with us photos of Germany.  The Black Forest intrigued me. I haven't written for weeks.  I have been hiding in an indoor forest trying to stay cool and calm.  My meds were messed up and it has been a roller coaster ride.  I feel better-I miss blogging and you!

The World Tree

  Moss's green stars outline
  pine needle floor
dampness curls ideas
like leaves brittle yet fragile
I weed  my path
waiting for day's star to
 burn gold and spill
her treasured light
along my trodden path.

Skin prickles as wolf  sings his serenade
to his beloved Blood Orange moon
 wind drums a wild dance 
illuminating labyrinth's silver birches
tall pines sway
in the darkest recesses secrets
howling, hooting and breathe
fear into my pores

Black hole wisdom hovers
-a hooded cloak of raven feathers
hides her craggy eyes
her dress made of  Walking Sticks
and spider's webs
her thoughts fly towards me
in catalyst dreams
waking mysteries of the moon.
She tells me "answers are ripples
in the universe's blanket
go to Great Oak
Wren is my totem."

"Hold what is sacred until stellar
dust burns,
follow tree's wheel
it spins stories of Holy Grail.
Your map is primal law-
magic whispers in shadows
as you wait for day's eye to open
Green woman will guide you-if
you dare listen."

©Ellen Wilson 

Friday, March 14, 2014

The Blind Poet

Brian @dVerse invited us to write highlighting sound. Brian encouraged us close our eyes and imagine you are blind. Yes, see with sound-it was extremely difficult.   I wrote several poems, but they didn't work, until I wrote about my morning.   Thanks Brian-it was fun to attempt visuals with sound~

My day is poured
it jingles n' rattles me
I stir it clanging my memory-
it tickles
 citrus and smoke linger
perfuming the air
 a wet nose nudges me
whining, whimpering
whistling steam blows
daughter clicks it off
she laughs mumbling convo
with boyfriend
stomps away- her bare bones
 pound floor
portal opens as wind howls
everything shakes as
day drips and puddles.

Spinning thoughts enter 
dryer buzzes
whining outside now
cold air stings and stabs my
measured steps click and clack around me
gasping air, pounding heart, insides churn 
as bile rises-burns face
mind swimming
I'm locked out
pounded with wetness
singed with oh no, what if
trampled n' chilled
I pound,  rattle, 
 twist n' turn
bare bones arrive
muffled voices come, too.
"Mom, what the heck?"
sharp pain rings as
 coldness drips
my thoughts paddle forward
warm lavender softness wraps
around me
hound howls
as I row onward into my day. 

Friday, January 31, 2014

Form For All

Samuel Peralta, over at dVerse inspired us to write a prose type poem. 

"A prose poem is a piece that appears to be prose – with no line breaks or verses – but which reads as if it were poetry. Prose poetry pieces maintain poetic qualities and utilize poetic techniques – such as symbolism, imagery, alliteration, rhyme.
A prose poem may be anywhere from a few lines, to the length of – I now believe – a book."

Sam is leaving dVerse and must know his presences will be missed!   Thank you Sam for all the wonder you have shared~ 

    I left my white flowing gown by the sea-so I thought. I woke discovering it draped on my lawn-white and glistening like jewels.  It had followed me.  Pristine, fragile white wings clustered in the morning's chill huddled upon earth's brown velvet shoulders.  I tried offering Bergamot tea and a bouquet of Tiger lilies, but no luck.  They are sleeping like beauties, but for how long?!  The whir of their cousins offers one hope, but will their tweets wake them?  The sky is heavy like dove gray ink. I fear the clouds are still miffed at me for being careless with their fabric. I hope they will forgive me-I  meant no disrespect. I am craving Venetian's embrace-her gold fingers must wake these wings soon or the ground hog will be confused and we all know what that means-April will start to gamble with our muse, again.   


Saturday, January 11, 2014


Over in the Garden, Margaret challenged us with Orbs. Deborah Glessner is the artist- her photographic orbs are filled with wonder! You can see more of Deborah's work at her website, "Lark Photography". Thank you Margaret for sharing her visions with us! I am intrigued~
Charcoal gray flutters of night disappear golden flower opens wild wings peer ring of feathers swirl chasing day's kite strings in search of burgeoning blue Golden goose goodnight kiss before sister swan opens star umbrella covers Lunar's crown
Heaven's wedding ring circles Earth's trees spatial stories speak volumes of hidden affairs ripples in their union passionate PDA seen in fire n' ice Pine, Big Red and Oak surrender to Mother Nature's epic moods Bough brothers bend in Warrior pose towards her hair saluting her spirit Namaste