RE / VERSE Fourth Anniversary Post: BLUE IS A FUGITIVE COLOR

photoart: sharon auberle

BLUE IS A FUGITIVE COLOR

by Sharon Auberle

It is the color of ambiguous depth,

of the heavens and of the abyss at once…

            ~  Alexander Theroux

Do you remember that night

I said I would have to leave?

Under a blue moon

in Clem & Ursie's Bar

you asked would I walk toward

something      or away

           

            and I said a horizon

is what I need, 

a road rising to meet me.   

Dante's 9th Circle of Hell isn't fire

but ice     

           

            yet blue light

has the energy to escape ice

and remain visible.

            Too often invisible to you I became     

           

                        blue

is a fugitive color  

fades quicker than any other.

~ first published in Peninsula Pulse

The Raven's Croak

photo: ralph murre

The Raven’s Croak

by Tom Davis

Hunched down beside a woodpile, ebony,

In shadows from the cedars overhead,

The raven blinked black eyes, its dishabille

Of feathers rustling, stirring up a dread

So dark it seemed as if it called up from the dead

White wisps of spirits buried in the snow.

The raven hopped on top the woodpile, head

Cocked, moving like a dancer in a show,

A shadow’s shadow pantomiming woe.

Dawn’s darkness deepened as the raven leaped

Into the sky and hovered as the glow

Of blood-light saturated earth and seeped

Into the raven’s eyes, its dance undone

Until its beak croaked out the blazing sun.

~ first published in An Ariel Anthology (Ariel Woods Books)

The Healer

photo: ralph murre

The Healer

by Ethel Mortenson Davis

You have been yourself at the edge of the Deep Canyon and have come back unharmed.  ~ An Elder of the San Juan Pueblo

I was invisible.  ~ An Asiatic Eskimo

In the snowy canyons

you came to me

as an eagle

and whispered

(in almost audible sounds)

"the key to the secret

of healing. . ."

For my wounds

had gone beyond wounds

and had festered

into deep holes

in my sides,

and gangrene had set in,

but, in a whisper,

you came and said,

"you have the keys within you.

You are the stars

in the starry night.

You are the source

at the mouth of rivers.

You have the medicine

to heal

already in your bones."

And my wounds became

as faint as the sound

of feathers,

as pale as the ringed moon.

And the healer

came to me

in the face of the wolf.

She came

and nodded to me

with her deep intelligence,

and her eyes told me,

"your spirit is strength.

Your force is as great

as volcanoes,

for your goodness prevails

over the dark;

your goodness

has brought you out

of the deep canyon."

And again the healer

came to me.

This time as a bear,

a joyous white bear

with great white paws,

and she told me,

"you were invisible,

but now I see you.

You have gone

to the edge of the great canyon

but have come back

unharmed.

"And now your laughter

will become

as mountainous as thunder,

and your tears

will be the tears of glory!"

I tell you.

I have put my ear

to the great Earth

and have felt your presence.

~ previously published in Poetry Cha Cha and in

    I Sleep Between the Moons of New Mexico

Sahara Blues X

artwork: ralph murre

Sahara Blues X

by Olajide vincent Ajise

We live in a war zone,

Mars’ solitary confinement,

where demons wearing turbans

perform ablutions

with cooked-blood of cherubs.

Here, adrenaline rushes

at the herald of shrapnel;

sights feed on blood-red corpses. Sadism.

We are now a sod

living under the canopy of grisliness;

a hamlet experiencing hell on earth,

For the mitochondrion of our glory

has been pilfered by bombs

and fear now writes epitaphs

on the nudity of our streets.

Help us, please.

~ first published in The Poet Community

Writer's Trap

artwork: ralph murre

Writer’s Trap

by Mary Bone

I should be cleaning house,

But I sit down to write a thought.

My only audience, a mouse.

The one I haven’t caught.

~ first published in Lucidity, A Journal of Verse (1994)

Watching Snow

artwork: william marr

Watching Snow

by William Marr

1

As the footprints in the snow

get deeper and deeper

they become harder and harder

to comprehend

2

Falling on the feverish face of

a homesick boy

the snow melts and turns into

a warm tropical shower

3

A sudden toll

of the steeple bell

shakes down

the snow

from the Cross

~ previously published in Autumn Window (Arbor Hill Press) and Between Heaven and Earth (PublishAmerica)