Morning Ghazal

I take a mind-puzzle from my dreams.
I work it out slowly, silently in my soul.

I lie still, while choreographed images–
like shadow swimmers–form patterns in my soul.

I read the news that feeds me need-to-knows,
and all I don’t know makes a hollow in my soul.

I analyze a thousand perspectives,
turning them over and over in my soul.

I pray holy words–personal not corporate–
I am imperfect, and I know better in my soul.

Dream {a Pantoum}

In my dream, the sun sets pink.
Tall evergreens grow all around
a sturdy house that will not sink.
Snow’s in patches on the ground.

Tall evergreens grow all around.
A house sits on a sloping hill.
Snow’s in patches on the ground,
and I remember still.

A house sits on a sloping hill.
No one knows it’s there,
and I remember still
the way the slope was bare.

No one knows it’s there–
a sturdy house that will not sink,
the way the slope was bare.
In my dream, the sun sets pink.

{Last month at dVerse, the Pantoum was the featured form. I missed the deadline, but I still wanted to try one. I had some difficulty finding the right subject. Then I ended up having a vivid dream that really stuck with me. So I decided to use that as inspiration. I have also been meaning to use more art with my writing–not because I’m any good at it, but because I think it helps to tap into the subconscious.}

Shelter Cat {a Rubaiyat}

A cat is curled and sleeping. His clipped ear 
shows. “That’s how we know,” a volunteer 
explained. (It’s all the information we gain)
In his new home he dreams about the year—

twitching, crying out, remembering rain.
His sunny lanai is serene. Then hurricane.
A neighbor child hoots and screeches. Fast
and blatantly brash. It’s her domain.

Repeating words again and again. Outcast.
”Play elsewhere”, they tell young enthusiast.
From carpet austere, cat listens. Places one
mushroom colored paw over his ears at last.

But now is the soft sound of day being done.
All the leaves have fallen, red as the sun.
Grass grown. Engines down. Darkness begun,
waking the cat and the night in unison.

{The rubaiyat is a lovely and challenging form. I learned quite a bit about its origins and about Fitzgerald’s work (a translation with a unique beauty of its own) which popularized it. I am looking forward to reading it in its entirety in the near future. Linking to dVerse.}