By the waves of middle sea (Ps 137)
A #poem in four parts
—
i.
In Prague, a Spanish synagogue dome
with a hole to the sky
and a gilded six-point star
hanging down from up high.
Upon each point of the star,
in a shining hexagram,
a lamp blazes white
far above where I am.
Face of no eyes
The peeling of the plaster
forms a face on the stone wall
with metal door in the middle
where the eyes should be — if at all.
Flowing hair of unkempt paint
frames the face of absent eyes
that lie hidden behind
a cast iron hatch of false disguise.
The latch is turned,
old hinge swings wide,
revealing bricked-in soul
that sighs alone inside.
Cavern
Through my silent tunnel,
dark, cold stone,
I glimpse a street
where people roam:
A laughing child,
a mother’s home,
a spark inside —
I’m not alone.
—
An urban street scene of a family walking by as seen through a dark elaborately carved stone tunnel
Palác Severin, Prague
8 Jun 2025
ISO 1250, ƒ4, -0.3 ev, 1/1600s
Oculus
Great circular hole
through the high church dome
lets in the filtered light
of a much greater home.
—
Oculus in the dome of a Baroque church Church of Our Lady (Frauenkirche), Dresden 12 Jun 2024 ISO 800, ƒ4, -0.7 ev, 1/125s
Silence
A #poem in two parts
—
i.
Up in the vault
of a church’s painted sky,
frescoes look down
through the incense rising high.
Here in the womb
of a God I come to find
who rose from a tomb
after healing lame and blind,
where divine and demeaned
come to meet in silent hall,
where gilded statues gleam
as in the world before the Fall,
Lying time
Frozen gilded face
of a grandmother clock
shines as the moon
in a dark antique shop.
The hands of this old clock
still point out of spite
though they don’t move
in their unwound night.
The gears and the cogs
unmoving, yet move,
as time‘s drivespring winds
with not a thing to prove.
The clock, shining moon
in the antique shop sky,
just tells her own time
as her little white lie.
Askew
A #poem
The battered remains
of a house that is stained
by the blots of crumbling time.
The panes of the windows
fall in gaunt crooked rows
that sag in their ungainly rhyme.
What memories were there
are reduced to blank stairs
ascending to floors slick with grime.
I see my reflection
in its cracked glass perfection
and stand stooped: my angular spine.
Fragment
What’s love but a fickle wight
who lays her snares,
then takes flight —
—
A female bare-breasted nymph statue seems to laugh gaily Palace Vrtba, Prague 11 Jun 2025 ISO 400, ƒ5.6, -0.7 ev, 1/60s
sinking sun
our shadows reach out
to meet
Burning rage
Out of control
Fierce Summer
#DailyHaikuPrompt for July 1, 2025
#rage
@dailyhaikuprompt #poems #english #haiku #writing #poetry #writersofmastodon #poetsofmastodon #shortpoem
Free to enter poetry competition and anthology on the theme of interconnectedness, closing 13 July https://renardpress.com/interwoven-anthology-poetry-competition/
Beach town in winter
Not a soul to collide with
Profuse emptiness
#DailyHaikuPrompt for June 29, 2025
#profuse and #desolate
vibration
down my spine a chill
there's a draft
#DailyHaikuPrompt for June 28, 2025
#draft
High technology
piled up from decades ago —
Shards of pottery
—
A computer and electronics repair shop with incongruously hand-painted signage; the shop window is full of obsolete electronics Dresden Newtown 13 Jun 2025 ISO 100, ƒ6.3, -0.7 ev, 1/80s
A new poem written using all the prompts from @dailyhaikuprompt for the week of May 17-24, 2025. Not a haiku, just a different fun challenge.
#Yellow #EarlyFrost #Field #Silence #Verdant #Rust #Road #NorthWind #Breath #Wine #Nightingale #Bonfire #Pool #Leaves #Tickle #Seclusion
Painted statue peels:
cooling stone warmed by the sun —
A blouse unbuttoned
—
A classical statue of Minerva/Athena with the previously decorative paint peeling off House of the Estates of Saxony, Dresden 12 Jun 2025 ISO 800, ƒ4, -1.0 ev, 1/250s
#poetry #poetsofmastodon
Do me a favor:
tell me you don't love me,
that you never did.
Shatter me.
Don't leave a shard of hope
that I could cut my foot on.
Pulverize me,
so I can finally realize
this mess of a heart
can't be repaired
Little town square
A #poem
Sunset paints red tile rooftops.
Tourists tarry on the square.
A far-off church bell chimes once.
The fireflies wink in the night.
—
A public square in sunset as seen through a stone arch. The square is full of people Malostranské náměstí (lit. “lesser town square”), Prague 9 Jun 2025 ISO 400, ƒ5.6, -0.7 ev, 1/2000s
Totenruhe
A #poem
While walking through Prague,
an old synagogue
silently warns us
of new demagogues.
What lessons were learned
from murderous past?
Apparently none,
for new dice are cast:
they’re carved from old bone
with dots made of coal,
ashes to ashes
as tyrants take toll.
If war’s the answer
to dreaming of peace,
you know it will be
the peace of deceased.
Bicycle rider
passed a scrawled message of peace —
Graffiti scripture
