Hollyhocks, Sunflowers, Marigolds

 

Hollyhocks, sunflowers, marigolds

in a field by a white barn waving

where the orange cat searches for the little voles

hollyhocks, sunflowers, marigolds

just a stone's throw over from the spring foals

and the little stream its low banks laving

hollyhocks, sunflowers, marigolds

in a field by a white barn waving.

______

a triolet for Lillian's image

over at Dverse Open Link. 

 

Poets' Bento Box

 I dug our grave with a silver spade

and a paper bell in the coffin shell--

a bento box where our lines were laid.

I dug our grave with a silver spade

but then in a dream, a kiss delayed

like a sweetly sorrowful gift from Hell-- 

I dug our grave with a silver spade

and a paper bell in the coffin shell.

_______________

a triolet for Word Garden Word List--The Return of Ellie Black

TLDR:

Dave Van Ronk, in the song Motherless Children, sings these lines:

Dig my grave with a bloody spade when I'm dead

dig my grave with a bloody spade when I'm dead

dig my grave with a bloody spade

make damn sure that the digger gets paid

He also does a song Old Blue about a beloved dog who dies. He sings:

I dug his grave with a silver spade

lowered him down with a golden chain

I kind of combined the two in my triolet, which is not about motherlessness or dogs, but is about an old relationship. The bento box denotes the compartmentalization of it. 

In the 19th century, there was a great fear of premature burial. A solution was offered in the form of "safety" coffins, which had a bell above ground attached to a string underground and placed in the corpse's hand. In the event of premature burial, the person could ring the bell to summon help.

Finally--and my process notes are now quite a bit longer than my triolet!--I had a dream recently that a person I had put out of my mind came to me and kissed me tenderly on the cheek, bringing back old feelings, if only in that moment. A paper bell, if you will. 

Music: Elton John Funeral for a Friend/ Love Lies Bleeding

Triolet On Parting

This is an African wild dog, not a blackbird, obviously. But he inspired me.

The earth in motion, turns sun high, turns sun west.

We love, we leave, the blackbird and the marshland reed.

What is stone, what is wind? What is burned, what is blessed?

The earth in motion, turns sun high, turns sun west.

The bed and window, street and station, all our palimpsest.

Each in skin, each in summer; each in plenty, each in need.

The earth in motion, turns sun high, turns sun west.

We love, we leave, the blackbird and the marshland reed. 

______

for "Substitutes" at Real Toads.

Friends, I lack the words except when I write poetry.

And so, this poem is for all of you.

digital art by Andrea Hill

 

 

 

Blue Swans, Blue Stars

He said I was blue swans, blue stars,

a painted cup on a sill, reflected  lights in the rain.

I said I am a burning book, cinders, char. 

He said I was blue swans, blue stars.

I said I am a loosened stone, gravel, tar.

He whispered, honey and  hemlock sing the same.

He said I was blue swans, blue stars,

a painted cup on a sill, reflected lights in the rain. 

_________

day 17

 

In My Room, A Cricket

In my room, a cricket sings his heavy heart.

Outside, his million brothers, star-drunk beneath a lemon tree.

Why these walls? Why his song? Why my clocks, taken apart?

In my room, a cricket sings his heavy heart.

Why alleys? Why walkways? Why my brushes sick from art?

Why my open window and the summer drowsing carelessly?

In my room, a cricket sings his heavy heart.

Outside, his million brothers, star-drunk beneath a lemon tree.

_________

A triolet for day 12.