Tag Archives: John William Waterhouse

Ask

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John William Waterhouse, The Sorceress

Know if lives in nature’s song—
thick on spring’s rustle

between every breath that comes
verdant and sublime, there was
an almost,
never rooted,
a moon-rose, eggshell fragile—

but ask, ask, ask, she says–
for dreams,
a dance on a long bee-path,
soft blooms of dusk,
a shadow-fiddle
like a lullaby as night’s blanket rests.

Watch, as frost-lichens bloom,
and then color, stone to berry-warm

reflections in ancient rivers–
a murmur, a laugh,
the embrace of sky,

rippling secrets, there and gone.

The Oracle really wanted me to ask today. Every set I looked at gave me that word. Then these lines came, and the poem fell into place.

When Shadows Scream

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Peder Severin Krøyer [Public domain] “Summer Evening at Skagen beach, the artist and his wife”

If beneath the blue and honeyed light,
we dream of love, and watch
milk-lather waves in tumbling play,

then we can recall those dreams
when shadows scream
and mind-aches sway

our thoughts—
there’s evil about
and cold winds blow, my love,

but there! They sweep the sky
of storms, and blanketed against the air,
we wait for sun-dazzled caramel rays

to cast aside the haunted winter-breath
and with summer-warmth overlay.

The Oracle kept giving me “shadow,” today, and it made me think of the Lady of Shallott,
“I am half sick of shadows,” said
The Lady of Shalott.”
And aren’t we all?

“I am half sick of shadows,” said
The Lady of Shalott.” John William Waterhouse

Windswept

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Windswept by John William Waterhouse

Beauty beats with aching heart–
beneath the blue of summer sky
tender-veined leaves tremble
at the wuthering wind,

yet, if it moans—
recalling winter’s wayward sway
to black and grey–

let it take you through dream-time shadows
to the after—and again–
the languid bright of summer days,
red-berried and green,
bird-voiced harmony in the light.

I had to struggle to get a poem today from the Oracle. As usual though, she knows what’s going on. Even while it’s still hot and sticky, there are traces of autumn in the wind and in the shorter days.

Hylas and the Nymphs, Poem in Ekphrastic Review

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John William Waterhouse, “Hylas and the Nymphs” (1896)

I’m thrilled and very excited that my poem “The Way It Happened” has been published in the Ekphrastic Review as a challenge response. It responds to the most recent challenge–a painting by John William Waterhouse, “Hylas and the Nymphs.”

My thanks to editor Lorette C. Luzajic for selecting my poem. Jane Dougherty’s wonderful prose work is right after mine. You can read all the selected works here.

I’m sharing this with dVerse Open Link Night.

May Queen, NaPoWriMo, Day 10

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She sleeps in a thousand blues
of forest-shadowed whispers, waiting
for the world to wake, now in-between–

and in her dreams, she listens
for sky voices, the laugh of stars and birds remembering
the rhythm of days, tiny rose-tips, yet unseen

but when, not if, they come again
dressed in honeyed gowns of golden light, lingering–
she’ll wake to take her place, sweet May Queen–

with each embrace, she color-spaces
a trace of perfume recalls her paces,
and soft poetry where she has been, always and forever green.

I haven’t done too many NaPoWriMo prompts this month because I’m writing for an Ekphrastic Challenge, and there are only so many poems I can write each day! But, I always visit the the Magnetic Poetry Oracle on Saturdays, and today she gave me this sort of folk tale poem.

Spring Magic: Tanka Tuesday

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She dreams of springtime

sunshine kissing seeds and buds,

a season of hope

ensorcells her once again

to drift with cherry blossoms

 

Windswept_by_John_William_Waterhouse

John William Waterhouse, “Windswept,” [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

 

This is for Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday—using synonyms of charm and time.

A Love Story: A Month With Yeats, Day 12

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This is for Jane Dougherty’s A Month With Yeats Challenge, Day 12.

Today’s quotation is:

“He made the world to be a grassy road

Before her wandering feet.”

–W.B. Yeats

 

There was a maiden with flowers in her hair

glorious she was, but with a tragic air.

Yet would the gods so decree

that beauty be the cause of tragedy?

Rather humans create such fights

with jealousy, hate, and righteous might.

 

“I would give you all I can,”

said the young, determined, love-struck man.

“But I would also let you go

if ever that is how you wished it so.”

With that she took him, wed him, then,

and their love was renewed again and again.

 

For he made the world a delightful place

and within it there, they had such space–

for her, he created grassy roads with scented flowers

and there she could wander in day or evening hours

She often said she was glad she’d wed him then

and their love was renewed again and again.

 

Though beauty may pass like a dream,

the rose is deeper than it seems.

Its beauty lies in not only in its shape and form,

but also in its scent that lingers and adorns.

And if wars are fought to capture bloom or bower

that is not the fault of the radiant flower.

Windswept_by_John_William_Waterhouse

John William Waterhouse, “Windswept” or “Wildflowers,” [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

 

 

 

 

 

 

Naiad

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Her soul’s secret song

shimmers, she shares it gently

leads him, calls to him

from the river, where brave rush,

rave, or walk to inner light

 

1024px-Naiad1

John William Waterhouse, “Naiad” [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

 

This is for Colleen Chesebro’s Weekly Poetry Challenge. The prompt words were lead and share. I’ve also used Secret Keeper’s words for this week: BRAVE | RUSH | RAVE | WALK | INNER