A New Year’s Wish

"I hope you will have a wonderful year, that you'll dream dangerously and outrageously, that you'll make something that didn't exist before you made it, that you will be loved and that you will be liked, and that you will have people to love and to like in return. And, most importantly (because I think there should be more kindness and more wisdom in the world right now), that you will, when you need to be, be wise, and that you will always be kind."  -Neil Gaiman (and me)

NaPoWriMo #5

4-5-19

Bertie
is three gems
each one more precious
than the last
Spilled out of
a jeweler’s envelope
to be examined
Past Bertie is bright with surface sparkle
one might even call her gaudy
in an uncharitable moment.
Future Bertie is honed
concentrated to
a single, pure
searing
point
.
Present Bertie
has been chiseled
tumbled
polished and worn
to a clear bright
fire, yet
with substance
comfortable resting
in the palm of one’s hand

This comes from a dream I had last night. My Aunt Kathryn was talking about Bertie, and I wondered if she was a friend or distant relative or even a care-giver. (Aunt Kathryn is 88.) Then she pulled out a small envelope and shook out three largish diamonds, which were somehow the “Bertie” she was talking about.

Is the period on a line by itself too gimmicky? What do you think?

Happy New Year!

IMG_7989

“I hope you will have a wonderful year, that you’ll dream dangerously and outrageously, that you’ll make something that didn’t exist before you made it, that you will be loved and that you will be liked, and that you will have people to love and to like in return. And, most importantly (because I think there should be more kindness and more wisdom in the world right now), that you will, when you need to be, be wise, and that you will always be kind.”  -Neil Gaiman, and me

Dream

Dream by Jacek Yerka

Dream by Jacek Yerka

The river
is always rising,
carrying me somewhere
I cannot yet see.

I float on
looking for the farther shore
but somehow I slip past everything
I know,
out to an ocean
as dark and smooth as oil.

Unfamiliar stars turn above
and beneath me.
The out-of-phase moon
throws her light before me
illuminating
the edge of the Earth.
I try to paddle back
against the tide
losing a little
with each stroke.

All my nightmares
now sail
noiselessly
along with me

The clocks have all lost their numbers;
why do we always think we have time?

Written for Magpie Tales creative writing group.

Bedtime stories

Somewhere out in Nowhere Land a songbird waits for me,
and sings of things that never were, and that will never be.
I’m smitten with the music that he warbles sweet and clear.
He’s in the treetops high above, and yet he sounds so near;
and if I close my eyes and rest
I feel wings flutter in my chest
and magic places far away in space and time seem near,
like they’re more real than my home, and what’s around me here.

Princes bright and dragons bold fight battles round my bed,
and giant ogres want to grind my bones to make their bread.
Witches cackle, donkeys bray and cats wear leather boots,
Children run through forests, and play tunes on magic flutes.
Then knights and trolls and goats come out to skip across the floor,
and Irish women selling clams clap hands and call for more.
So bears and pigs and wolves join paws and dance ‘round in a ring,
and mermaids swim up to the shore to hear the sirens sing.
Old men grow young, and strong and straight,
whilst black birds argue and debate.

And it does not seem strange to me; I do not feel perplexed.
I shake my head and laugh and wait, to see what happens next.
Then the moon smiles down at me and asks me to come swim.
The stars agree. ”The air is fine,” they say, “so come on in.”
I dip my toe into the sky, and it does feel just right
and so I close my eyes and dive head-long in to the night.

This originally appeared  Writing in the Bachs.