So far since you’ve returned from April, you’ve used “your” words, and you’ve used “these” words. Now we switch our focus to “their” words. This week we resurrect a very popular feature here. You know it as “Hey, That’s MY line!” You are asked to chose a line or phrase from another poet/poem that you admire and use their words as the inspiration, title or first line for your poem. Be sure to credit the poet/poem from which you choose and honor your poetic compatriots.
The first line “A straight rain is rare,” and “a woman with a long neck” are from the poem “Straight Rain is Rare” by Lyn Hejinian. Highlighted on 17 May/15 as the Poem of the Day on The Poetry Foundation.
A touch of lips
encased in aura of perfume;
a touch of lips
to send my soul on soaring trips
and loose a heart that has been bound.
A whole world could be berthed around
a touch of lips.
(inspired by a line in Whittier’s Maud Miller
Shadows fail to fall, not existing
as if resisting the caress of light
on a cool Kentucky night.
There is no blue moon in sight.
Not tonight;
not any night.
The shroud of evening
brings darkness to its fruition.
Such is the condition in the Bluegrass
State. We shall wait until mourning
to pay our respects.
Dissect the day in your own way,
but do not allow the moon to be sad.
We’ve a relative born on a ‘blue moon’ – the second full moon in the same month.
Also know of a group of folks that for several years now goes to a spot in Kentucky torn asunder by
weather a while back. Hope that helps the moon smile over Kentucky…
[…] https://phoenixrisingpg.wordpress.com/2015/05/17/return-of-the-phoenix-use-their-words/ …“Hey, That’s MY line!” You are asked to chose a line or phrase from another poet/poem that you admire and use their words as the inspiration, title or first line for your poem. Be sure to credit the poet/poem from which you choose and honor your poetic compatriots. […]
Gray day. Everything is gray. I watch, but nothing moves today.
– Dr. Seuss
The sky is infinite in its longing,
full to bursting and ready
to spill,
and I
am many-colored, somber
-songing my way through
clouds and shrouds of sky.
I am hum and thrum and rum
-bled thunder, the spattering
of water
that must
have its own way. I am thread
-ed by breeze and the trees that
wear this ragged raincoat of gray.
[…] Phoenix Rising suggests we use the words of another poet as inspiration, title or first line. I have gone further with this poem which was written a couple of years ago. […]
Shakespeare denies that love can be love
which alters when it alteration finds.
Experience informs me otherwise.
That first euphoric flurry
bears us onward in impetuosity
from first encounter
through exploration,
discovery,
exposed illusion.
Ephemeral glory
but love for all that.
II Allegro Appassionato-Sostenuto-Tempo I
Stormy transition morphs to humdrum
climbs to summit and back again –
swell to great with crashing chords
in clashes of divergent moods;
slides subtly through moderato
via pause and repeat to gentle
understanding. Calm acceptance
rules resurgence of passion
to tenderness and back again –
another kind of love.
III Andante con Moto – Allegro
Another kind of love – despite of wrinkles
this thy golden time –
all passion not quite spent,
progression from hectic,
through stately to exciting
and back again.
Togetherness a bulwark
against worldly pressure
to ripening harvest of creative pleasure
as time accelerates towards conclusion.
Another kind of love.
Based on Brahms Sonata Op.120 No.2 for clarinet and piano, the music is full of passion tempered with calm passages. My thoughts turned to marriage and its evolution. The first section quotes from Shakespeare, Sonnet CXVII, and the last from Sonnet III. Swell to Great is a coupler on a pipe organ, linking two big pipes to produce a thunderous sound. My poem echoes in part the cadence of the music, with rather too many mixed metaphors, but so be it.
Earlier this week I offered a poem and a copup-0le of comments to others’. An “awaiting moderation” note appeared for each, and they were never posted.. What’s the problem?
Sorry Will, I don’t understand why they went to moderation. Every comment awaiting the deed were by poets who have posted before and never should have been held up. I apologize for the delay in responding. Hopefully, this is resolved. Thanks for pointing it out to me.
“Goodbye, I did not get to say, that is my regret” from Julieann’s No Regret-Except
Goodbye
My friend was of the positive faith persuasion.
Convinced he’d live beyond the prognosis
of prostrate cancer, he prayed, confessed and died.
Goodbye, I did not get to say, that is my regret.
From “Devotion”, by Robert Frost. First line, “The heart can think of no devotion”
Devotion
The heart can think of no devotion
Greater than hearts entwined in emotion
Day after day it may seem like repetition
In truth it is two in a loving condition
“No one asked you to be happy. Get to work.”― Colette
Dandelion – spirit of rising – fearlessly surges upward – healing alchemy reaches into time with rich roots of goodness. Look to spheres of yellow vortices and visualize spirals of energy – adopt power into seat of solar plexus and breathe to embody lion’s roar. Vitality pours into helix from deep beneath ground through body to celestial plane – it surges with fire’s vigor – tiny sun churns and radiates with courage and self-worth. Gather in this galaxy of gold – fill soul to overflowing with power of Universe – embrace promise of all things possible. Hold in hand a single perfect bloom and see with an intentional heart the innumerable wishes it will bring. Have faith in dreams and they will come to fruition.
Believe in oneself –
confidence is within reach
dig deep – find strong roots.
“Have faith in dreams and they will come to fruition.” ~Hannah Gosselin
Dream, for dreams provide the visions of tomorrow.
Borrow your nightly thoughts and ideas and see
where you can go fueled by their fire.
They desire to take flight through the night,
second star on the right and straight on until morning.
Then when you’ve awakened and taken all you can
from your midnight imaginings, let them take wing,
for flight was once a fantasy turned to reality.
Life’s banality will flourish into all your dreams
can become. If you can dream it, by all mean…do it!
The cannons cease and the darkness falls,
And those fluttering things are men.
From Edgar A. Guest’s poem Easy Service
The orchard is a palace where the apple trees are blooming
Nature fulfills promises that only spring can keep
Cold autumnal deathbeds after winter’s icy grooming
Spawns a metamorphosis where fields of flowers sleep
I stroll the early morning where the lilacs are adorning
Twigs that seemed but lifeless sprigs before awakening
Our oohs and aah and the applause of tongue-tied beggar-barons
Contentment’s luxury is free and not a purchased Thing
…And I can’t help but think of those who fled with almost nothing
Save the clothes upon their backs and children in their arms
Never mind that skies are kind and apple trees are blooming
Evil has no season;bent on ugliness that harms
Here among the song of birds and freedom bought with bodies
Hope is juxtaposed like spring, with suffering and death
And mingled with the virgin hues of greens and blues, gold, purple
Runs the blood of fallen comrades yielding their last breath
The cannons cease and the darkness falls and those fluttering things are men
And boys and girls that will not see another spring again
Phoenix Rising Poetry Guild 
Sorry for the lateness of the prompt.I had set it up scheduled to post a 8 am. Or so I thought. 8 pm was not acceptable so here it is! Walt.
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A Child Sitting Under the Piano
(from Piano by D. H. Lawrence)
A newly wed she spent
Their savings on a player
piano and earned the money
Back by teaching piano
Lessons to the neighbor
Kids, the boys and girls
Who played tag in the
street outside her house
And when she had children
Of her own, she taught
Them too
There were always children
Banging the screen door
As they ran in and out
Her twisted fingers can no
Longer coax music from
The ivory keys but
The sound of practiced
scales still echoes
Through the silent house
And the memory of a child
Sitting under the piano
Pumping the pedals
Makes her smile
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This is precious!
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Thank you
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Candy, I can hear this…the piano, the banging of the screen door. Vivid. Well done.
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A touching story. I had thought a player piano played itself!
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Very well done, Candy!
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[…] for Phoenix Rising. Photo from CC0: State Library of Queensland, […]
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A Few Quick Thoughts About Rain
a straight rain is rare.
it usually angles
like some great suspicion.
pretends to be a woman burdened
with a long neck, and then
it waddles off to become
a broad shallow puddle.
and the dictionary states
that rain is a noun but
I think it’s more like a verb,
all that falling and running
and dropping and pitching,
filling up rivers that were previously
of an inadequate depth,
but then there’s November rain
which is more like a cello –
music in gutters, base notes
dropping into overflowing barrels,
drip.drop.drip.drop.drip.drop –
like pudding into a basin,
and rain drowns the moon (must do,
as I’ve never seen the moon swim,
except once across a lake
but I think I was dreaming
because the shoreline swallowed
it up like a cat lapping up milk).
but mostly, rain never falls straight.
//
Note: The accompanying photo and poem can be viewed at https://miskmask.wordpress.com/2015/05/18/a-few-quick-thoughts-about-rain/
The first line “A straight rain is rare,” and “a woman with a long neck” are from the poem “Straight Rain is Rare” by Lyn Hejinian. Highlighted on 17 May/15 as the Poem of the Day on The Poetry Foundation.
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Wow! This is fantastic. So many great phrases.
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Thank you! 😃
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The startling use of phrases opens up vistas.
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Comment at your place. Very nice.
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Thank you.
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We both have rain on the brain today, ma’am. 😉
I LOVE this:
“pretends to be a woman burdened
with a long neck, and then
it waddles off to become
a broad shallow puddle.”
You’ve woven so well here.
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I think the rain is probably more useful in your area than mine. 😀
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\Interesting concept. Comment at your blog.
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Thank you, Viv.
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Commented on your site, Misk.
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so many surprises! a delight to read again!
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IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN
A touch of lips
encased in aura of perfume;
a touch of lips
to send my soul on soaring trips
and loose a heart that has been bound.
A whole world could be berthed around
a touch of lips.
(inspired by a line in Whittier’s Maud Miller
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Simply beautiful!
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THERE’S NO BLUE MOON
Shadows fail to fall, not existing
as if resisting the caress of light
on a cool Kentucky night.
There is no blue moon in sight.
Not tonight;
not any night.
The shroud of evening
brings darkness to its fruition.
Such is the condition in the Bluegrass
State. We shall wait until mourning
to pay our respects.
Dissect the day in your own way,
but do not allow the moon to be sad.
© Walter J Wojtanik, 2015
Poem inspired by the line:
“there’s no moon over kentucky tonight:” from Robert Lee Brewer’s poem “blue” from prompt #305 – Loss
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We’ve a relative born on a ‘blue moon’ – the second full moon in the same month.
Also know of a group of folks that for several years now goes to a spot in Kentucky torn asunder by
weather a while back. Hope that helps the moon smile over Kentucky…
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I loved that poem of Robert’s, and I love this one that it inspired.
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I like the positive thinking in this, and love the pun of “waiting until mourning”
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Just beautiful.
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You picked a wonderful poem for inspiration. I love, ‘dissect your day in your own way.”
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[…] https://phoenixrisingpg.wordpress.com/2015/05/17/return-of-the-phoenix-use-their-words/ …“Hey, That’s MY line!” You are asked to chose a line or phrase from another poet/poem that you admire and use their words as the inspiration, title or first line for your poem. Be sure to credit the poet/poem from which you choose and honor your poetic compatriots. […]
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https://juleslongerstrandsofgems.wordpress.com/2015/05/18/flaming-in-blue-light-for-pr-and-inspired-by-mj-5-18-s/
please see the link. I can’t get the format to be what I want in the comments section.
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Nimbostratus Cardigan
Gray day. Everything is gray. I watch, but nothing moves today.
– Dr. Seuss
The sky is infinite in its longing,
full to bursting and ready
to spill,
and I
am many-colored, somber
-songing my way through
clouds and shrouds of sky.
I am hum and thrum and rum
-bled thunder, the spattering
of water
that must
have its own way. I am thread
-ed by breeze and the trees that
wear this ragged raincoat of gray.
.
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Most exell- and resplend-
ent!
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Wonderful; makes grey laugh.
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Oh yes!!
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[…] . written for phoenix rising. […]
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[…] Phoenix Rising suggests we use the words of another poet as inspiration, title or first line. I have gone further with this poem which was written a couple of years ago. […]
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Another Kind of Love – a sonata poem
Posted on May 20, 2015 by https://vivinfrance.wordpress.com
I Allegro Amabile
Shakespeare denies that love can be love
which alters when it alteration finds.
Experience informs me otherwise.
That first euphoric flurry
bears us onward in impetuosity
from first encounter
through exploration,
discovery,
exposed illusion.
Ephemeral glory
but love for all that.
II Allegro Appassionato-Sostenuto-Tempo I
Stormy transition morphs to humdrum
climbs to summit and back again –
swell to great with crashing chords
in clashes of divergent moods;
slides subtly through moderato
via pause and repeat to gentle
understanding. Calm acceptance
rules resurgence of passion
to tenderness and back again –
another kind of love.
III Andante con Moto – Allegro
Another kind of love – despite of wrinkles
this thy golden time –
all passion not quite spent,
progression from hectic,
through stately to exciting
and back again.
Togetherness a bulwark
against worldly pressure
to ripening harvest of creative pleasure
as time accelerates towards conclusion.
Another kind of love.
Based on Brahms Sonata Op.120 No.2 for clarinet and piano, the music is full of passion tempered with calm passages. My thoughts turned to marriage and its evolution. The first section quotes from Shakespeare, Sonnet CXVII, and the last from Sonnet III. Swell to Great is a coupler on a pipe organ, linking two big pipes to produce a thunderous sound. My poem echoes in part the cadence of the music, with rather too many mixed metaphors, but so be it.
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Wow. Such majestic work.
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wow!
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Earlier this week I offered a poem and a copup-0le of comments to others’. An “awaiting moderation” note appeared for each, and they were never posted.. What’s the problem?
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Pardon me: sloppy typing. :I meant a “couple” of comments.
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Sorry Will, I don’t understand why they went to moderation. Every comment awaiting the deed were by poets who have posted before and never should have been held up. I apologize for the delay in responding. Hopefully, this is resolved. Thanks for pointing it out to me.
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Thanks, Walt.
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“Goodbye, I did not get to say, that is my regret” from Julieann’s No Regret-Except
Goodbye
My friend was of the positive faith persuasion.
Convinced he’d live beyond the prognosis
of prostrate cancer, he prayed, confessed and died.
Goodbye, I did not get to say, that is my regret.
LikeLiked by 1 person
A sad poem, a situation experienced by many. There’s an errant r in the third line!
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oops Thanks, Viv.
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There’s so much in so few here. Wonderful.
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he prayed, confessed and died …….. Love this
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From “Devotion”, by Robert Frost. First line, “The heart can think of no devotion”
Devotion
The heart can think of no devotion
Greater than hearts entwined in emotion
Day after day it may seem like repetition
In truth it is two in a loving condition
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Superb!
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a living condition. That says it all. Very nice.
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[…] – RETURN OF THE PHOENIX – USE THEIR WORDS piece inspired by this quote: “No one asked you to be happy. Get to […]
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Dandelion Medicine
“No one asked you to be happy. Get to work.”― Colette
Dandelion – spirit of rising – fearlessly surges upward – healing alchemy reaches into time with rich roots of goodness. Look to spheres of yellow vortices and visualize spirals of energy – adopt power into seat of solar plexus and breathe to embody lion’s roar. Vitality pours into helix from deep beneath ground through body to celestial plane – it surges with fire’s vigor – tiny sun churns and radiates with courage and self-worth. Gather in this galaxy of gold – fill soul to overflowing with power of Universe – embrace promise of all things possible. Hold in hand a single perfect bloom and see with an intentional heart the innumerable wishes it will bring. Have faith in dreams and they will come to fruition.
Believe in oneself –
confidence is within reach
dig deep – find strong roots.
Copyright © Hannah Gosselin 2015
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I’ll be back to read…I need to attend a second grade concert right now though. 🙂
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Wonderful, Hannah. I could have used this for inspiration!
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For me, this is a prime example of seeing the majestic in the minute.
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Lovely
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beautiful!
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Yet I Survive
Written for, and inspired by: Maya Angelou, “Still I Rise”
All those black nights of despair
crying, wishing I was not here,
ruled by constant fear
Yet I survive
Yet I survive
Felt no one could understand
the panic that soaked every strand
of hair, and commanded the upper hand
Yet I survive
Yet I survive
Well I made up for that lost time,
lived outside set rules, in my prime
making love, drinking wine
Yet I survive
Yet I survive
Saddled now with recurring disease
has brought back those years of unease.
I straddle a trapeze
Yet I survive
Yet I survive
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Each and everyday…different and unique. We survive. We survive.
Thanks for your visit and kind words.
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Wishing you kindness always!
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This is quiet yet powerful. Masterful work.
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Thanks so much, William.
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This is painful and delivered poignantly, Sara.
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DREAM IT, DO IT
Dream, for dreams provide the visions of tomorrow.
Borrow your nightly thoughts and ideas and see
where you can go fueled by their fire.
They desire to take flight through the night,
second star on the right and straight on until morning.
Then when you’ve awakened and taken all you can
from your midnight imaginings, let them take wing,
for flight was once a fantasy turned to reality.
Life’s banality will flourish into all your dreams
can become. If you can dream it, by all mean…do it!
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This is so nice, and so fitting for Hannah’s line, and Hannah herself, I’d judge.
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Juxtaposed Metamorphosis
The cannons cease and the darkness falls,
And those fluttering things are men.
From Edgar A. Guest’s poem Easy Service
The orchard is a palace where the apple trees are blooming
Nature fulfills promises that only spring can keep
Cold autumnal deathbeds after winter’s icy grooming
Spawns a metamorphosis where fields of flowers sleep
I stroll the early morning where the lilacs are adorning
Twigs that seemed but lifeless sprigs before awakening
Our oohs and aah and the applause of tongue-tied beggar-barons
Contentment’s luxury is free and not a purchased Thing
…And I can’t help but think of those who fled with almost nothing
Save the clothes upon their backs and children in their arms
Never mind that skies are kind and apple trees are blooming
Evil has no season;bent on ugliness that harms
Here among the song of birds and freedom bought with bodies
Hope is juxtaposed like spring, with suffering and death
And mingled with the virgin hues of greens and blues, gold, purple
Runs the blood of fallen comrades yielding their last breath
The cannons cease and the darkness falls and those fluttering things are men
And boys and girls that will not see another spring again
LikeLike