Fascinated by old memories Antiques with streaks of dust Silvery lullabies I hear Chanted in the dusk … Inked inside my heart my dear Never to be forgotten Anthems of our life together Those moments of love and anger… Into the void you’ve sailed away Onward – through the infinite stars, in Nebulous fascination, sending lullabies.
[…] Then … my heart misses a heart beat. In front of me tumble a lot of little creatures, monkey like, in a dark universe of solidified magma. I forget to breath … I see a huge flying deer with antlers of spiraling curls and legs elegantly floating through the skies. This magnificent animal escaping from two reaching hands, is three thousand years ago made by humans from the Bronze Age. The half-open mouth is from a goose, symbol of the soul; its flight is pointing to the universe, maybe its a symbol of the transformation of the soul that rises to Heaven after dead. … And the “flying deer” is one of the deities who are pointing us the way, teach us the way to let go and accept life as it is.” […] Chèvrefeuille an astral voyage
points towards the after-life
My little story is based on the ducks we have at Riva del Garda …they don’t go quack quack at all – they laugh and what a laugh. For me today the fun was having had no idea whatever of what I was going to come up with when I began to write the poem.
I wrote this for Miz Quickly’s November 28 Prompt … whichalas, I came upon late, since she has put up a daily prompt for all of November. must say that it was a lot of fun and that it is one of the most interesting prompts that I’ve ever come across … Many thanks Miz Quickly!
Sunrise is the most splendid time of the day. In Riva del Garda, that doesn’t happen until around 9:00 in the morning in the colder months of the year, the light filters over the mountains .. but not the sun. Here the sun just topped the mountain. What a glorious morning to go sailing!
tumbling water splashing
dashing an autumn leaf in cold water
[alter of mystic autumn rites]
ignites my imagination:
all life issued …
spewed – from water but, oh, the change
strange – and somehow, humbling
tumbling water splashing
“The rules are simple. A circular poem is one that goes round full circle. The last word of the first line rhymes with the first word of the following line and so on until you end up back at your first line.
Lines can be any length, it’s the rhyme that’s important. Ideas and images can be as stream of consciousness as you like, theme, whatever springs to mind.” Jane Dougherty