Behold Peace There
Look! There, the blooded death ships sail.
Cry. Recall in dream whispers the mother-roses
once languid, once luscious, now storm-blown
by withering winds—
but sea-gowned blue, the earth revolves,
above, the moon sings,
and the fiddler sprays the night sky
in echoes of the stars,
an exhale—we hear when–
the breath of time
circles with if.
My poem from the Oracle. It’s a collaboration, but the title comes directly from the her.
Yesterday and today: Merril's historical musings 
It does feel like there are lot of ‘ifs’ in the world right now.
Wonderful collaboration!
The last stanza could be a coda to mine. And the echo of “be”. Holding on. (K)
Yes, you’re right. Thank you.
a beautiful collab so beautifully piggy backed on each other. Congrats!
👏👏
Thank you so much, Cindy!
You’re so welcome!!💖💖💖
❤️
This poem spoke to me in a discomfitting way. If feels as as though life continues to be one of “ifs,” and the breath of time is shallow and labored.
Oh, interesting.
In my mind (I think), it was more of an awareness of possibilities.
I thought that was your intent, and my own frame of mind colored my reading.
That’s one of the joys of poetry!
Absolutely!
You have done justice to the picture, in which the sky seems to be on fire! Going strong, Merril 🔥
Thank you very much, Ingrid.
This one wasn’t part of the challenge. I found the painting after–but I’m glad it works!
So well adapted to the painting
Thank you, Derrick.
The poem came first, and then I found the painting.
Even better
😊
Beautiful writing 👏👏👏
Delighted to read you.
Fraternal greetings. 🤗
Thank you!
🤗🤗