Birth Echoes Through Time – 15 December (2020 Re-post)


Birth echoes through all our time
Time shard echoes in our minds
Minds echo with contact cruel or kind
Cruel or kind actions, echo through humankind
Humankind echoes, with what was done before our time
Time to shed the old, to let new life echo all around

©RedCat

Re-post comment:

I’m running late for everything it feels like. But mostly it’s about the writing I have left to do. And the fact that I haven’t prepared the advent calendar as I had thought to do. So here a day late you’ll get the post I have thought to re-post to free my time up and celebrate my oldest turning ten.

Enjoy!



At first I thought I’d do a re-post today, of my first Echo Poem, to give me free birthday time. But my mind keep going round and round in echoes, so I had to write a new one.

Each year in the day leading up to my children’s birthday I have flashbacks of birth both in mind and body. Not something I mention often as it sound so trippy, but both my own mother and others have described similar feelings. And if your open to it, giving birth is one of the most profound birth-death-rebirth experiences, aka trips, a woman can have.




Image credits:

First image: Photo by ©Jonas Norén
Second image: Image Source on Wikimedia Commons
Third image: Photo by Isaac Quesada on Unsplash
Forth image: Photo by NASA on Unsplash



Stardust Souls

NASA/SDO/AIA, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

We stardust souls are eternal, yet needing a flesh costume to affect and interact in the physical world. So we subject ourselves to the death-rebirth trauma of being born, forgetting most of our knowledge and wisdom in the process.

Then we grow and learn what we can in a lifetime. Laughter and joy. Friendship. Hope and despair. Love and hate. Pain and anguish.

When the flesh grows weak and old, we die and remember everything from the beginning of time. Remember the reason we undertake life again and again. Only to once again choose the flesh costume. Hoping this time we’ll be able to awaken the flesh’s animal soul enough to impart some of our wisdom. Knowing that all we can hope to become, are messengers. 

Only mouths are we. Who sings the distant heart which safely exists in the center of all things.

© RedCat


Written for Prosery: Here’s the thing about existing at dVerse. Where we write prose, maximum 144 words, incorporating a line of poetry.

Tonight’s line is from a favorite poet.

“Only mouths are we. Who sings the distant heart which safely exists in the center of all things? – from Rainer Maria Rilke, “Heartbeat.”


I Am The Colour

Photo by Jonathan Petersson from Pexels

I am the colour, of rebirth
of tender leaves
bursting bright
from brown buds

I am the colour, to invigorate
to melt frozen hearts
as songbirds sings
the flood of thawing tears

I am the colour, of regrowth
of slender stems
twinkling through
pale autumn ashes

I am the colour, of new hope
of sunshine through dark clouds
as light lengthens
from midwinter’s dreaded days

I am the colour, of spring
of new beginnings
shining stars
on bare branches

I am the colour, of yet shy love
of a beating heart
quickening breath and beat
at the thought of a touch

©RedCat

Written for Poetics: True Colours? at dVerse.

Also posted to earthweal open link weekend #57.

Photo by Felix Mittermeier from Pexels

I Was Born– January Ekphrastic Challenge, January 17

Kerfe Roig – I was born (after Yayoi Kusama)

I was born
Blank slate
Touched by neither prophesy nor fate

I was born
Budding traits
Balancing on point til they meet love or hate

I was born
Curiosity great
Learned my sex should their minds prostrate

I was born
Told to wait
Stay still, be quiet, one day someone chooses you as mate

I was born
Killed as bait
Some women never get scared witless nor straight

I was reborn
To illustrate
There’s life after trauma that minds titillate

I was reborn
Myself dedicate
The right to survive and freedom to thrive reinstate

I was reborn
Souls to elate
To love and pain vividly narrate

I was reborn
Loving state
New creative and passionate adventures await

©RedCat

Read all of today’s poetry and see all art at The Wombwell Rainbow.


Kerfe Roig

A resident of New York City, Kerfe Roig enjoys transforming words and images into something new.  Her poetry and art have been featured online by Right Hand PointingSilver Birch PressYellow Chair ReviewThe song is…Pure HaikuVisual VerseThe Light EkphrasticScribe BaseThe Zen Space, and The Wild Word, and published in Ella@100Incandescent MindPea River JournalFiction International: Fool, Noctua Review, The Raw Art Review, and several Nature Inspired anthologies. Follow her explorations on her blogs, https://methodtwomadness.wordpress.com/  (which she does with her friend Nina), and https://kblog.blog/, and see more of her work on her website http://kerferoig.com/

Kingdom of Karmic Weaving Fates – January Ekphrastic Challenge, January 8

Marcel Herms – Der Tod ist ein Dandy auf einem Pferd
(Death is a Dandy on a Horse)

Now, now! Dear soul!
I’ve done this countless times before.
I move between and between.
It wouldn’t do to be forever seen.
I divert with the screech of an owl.
Even though, I pity souls killed by neglect and foul.
I don’t recommend staying as a ghost.
Even though together you would be a mighty host.
Now! Peek beneath my cowl!
Look into the void, and honk like a lost wildfowl.
My eyes are the portals.
Transporting all Bardo states mortals.
Handing you off at the gates.
Of the Kingdom of karmic weaving fates.

©RedCat

This is the second day of the January Ekphrastic Challenge. To see all artwork and read all poetry go to,
THE WOMBWELL RAINBOW.
My poem today is inspired by Marcel Herms – Der Tod ist ein Dandy auf einem Pferd.
(Death is a Dandy on a Horse)

It was a long time since I used my school learnt German. As I translated the title, some part of my mind said it was more than a artwork title. Maybe a line from a poem, or a song, or a philosophic text. Got a happy, albeit loud, surprise when I found it’s a 1985 song – Der Tod Ist Ein Dandy by Einstürzende Neubauten.
Industrial synth that sounds like a migraine attack feels.

Listen carefully!

Marcel Herms

A Dutch visual artist. He is also one of the two men behind the publishing house Petrichor. Freedom is very important in the visual work of Marcel Herms. In his paintings he can express who he really is in complete freedom. Without the social barriers of everyday life.
There is a strong relationship with music. Like music, Herms’ art is about autonomy, freedom, passion, color and rhythm. You can hear the rhythm of the colors, the rhythm of the brushstrokes, the raging cry of the pencil, the subtle melody of a collage. The figures in his paintings rotate around you in shock, they are heavily abstracted, making it unclear what they are doing. Sometimes they look like people, monsters, children or animals, or something in between. Sometimes they disappear to be replaced immediately or to take on a different guise. The paintings invite the viewer to join this journey. Free-spirited.

He collaborates with many different authors, poets, visual artists and audio artists from around the world and his work is published by many different publishers.

www.marcelherms.nl

www.uitgeverijpetrichor.nl

From Nadir to Zenith – last poem of 2020

FurryTiger, CC BY-SA 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0, via Wikimedia Commons

Mummified alive by cobwebs of lies and deceit
Numbed until she couldn’t see it
Spider poison talking in her ears
Corroded until her heart knew new only fear
Hiding within a surreptitious poised shell
Her soul walked the cold and lonely paths of hell
In concentric circles further and further away from herself
Until one day a peddler in a wolf pelt
Traded a scarlet apple for a rhyme
One bite, her being rang with creative passions chime
Hands writing forbidden poetry until frozen fingers paper crumble
Feets choreographing forms until they bled and stumble
There is nowhere for the petite rodent to hide her bright light
Her pointy shoes rap-tap-ratting in their flight
She sings with newly found voice
Creative suffering my life choice
For love I’ll walk through fire
Reify my heart’s hidden desires
Travel from dark nadir to bright zenith
Rise from the ashes like a newborn Phoenix

©RedCat

Willermoz.es, CC BY-SA 3.0 http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/, via Wikimedia Commons

There really wasn’t time. Right now I should socialize and talk the night away. Instead I’m alone, polishing the last poem of the year. I felt it important to write one last piece. A piece of rebirth and renewal. So I searched for inspiration and found it in #skyloverwordlist.

The petit rat was something I just learned about watching Tiny Pretty Things.

Also shared with Open Link Night over at dVerse and earthweal open link weekend

Happy New Year!

Dark moon of the crone – 15 December (2019 Re-post)

Leatask [CC BY 4.0]

Soon the dark moon of the crone is upon us
Time to face mortality
Time to bury the old
Time to celebrate rebirth
The kingdom of heaven is built upon love
Be brave of heart if that’s your aim
Humans often prefer known fears
Over an open heart vulnerable to deceit

© REDCAT

Had a week and weekend full of celebrating birth, contemplating death, and the possibility of rebirth. So all my three posts this weekend belong in the same theme. The Ivory Lighthouse, Cold Moon.
Also posted to Poets United ~ Pantry of Poetry and Prose #7.

Photo by invisiblepower from Pexels

Birth Echoes Through Time – 4 December

Birth echoes through all our time
Time shard echoes in our minds
Minds echo with contact cruel or kind
Cruel or kind actions, echo through humankind
Humankind echoes, with what was done before our time
Time to shed the old, to let new life echo all around

©RedCat

At first I thought I’d do a re-post today, of my first Echo Poem, to give me free birthday time. But my mind keep going round and round in echoes, so I had to write a new one.

Each year in the day leading up to my children’s birthday I have flashbacks of birth both in mind and body. Not something I mention often as it sound so trippy, but both my own mother and others have described similar feelings. And if your open to it, giving birth is one of the most profound birth-death-rebirth experiences, aka trips, a woman can have.

Image Source

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