The Castle Within–dVerse OLN

Earthen Lamp–Labeled for non-commercial reuse.

The Castle Within
A Sestina
Revised 7/25/19

The Soul
Journey to a place that’s sacred,
travel above, below, within.
I walk a path of emptiness
not knowing who it is I seek.
Clouds catch colors that fill the sky
casting reflections on pure water.

Satan
Naked, submerged in fetid water,
utter words, evoke the sacred,
brandish ideas across the sky,
soak in lies that stir within
not knowing what it is you seek
embracing only emptiness.

not understanding emptiness,
your thirst ne’er quenched by stagnant water
you do not know the source you seek
cathedrals, temples, though deemed sacred
cannot answer those doubts within
though spires stretch, they reach not sky.

Drowned in mystery—above, the sky.
Below—a trough of emptiness
that murkiness you find within.
Troubled tempest of primal water
envelops all that you hold sacred,
eludes the meaning that you seek.

What is it, soul, that you seek?
To know who lies beyond the sky?
To touch the silk of all that’s sacred?
To fill the void of emptiness?
Blissful, to float in limpid water?
To satisfy yearnings within?

The Soul
Satan, begone, for here within
the castle of my soul I seek
not to probe the depth of water,
nor soar to crystal heights of sky.
You tempt, betray my emptiness,
eschew the gifts that I hold sacred.

Love Speaks
Your emptiness has birthed the sacred,
immersed in water—filled within
because you seek, you touch the sky.

(Based on the writings of John of the Cross and Teresa of Avila.)

I rewrote this 2011 poem for dVerse Open Link Night, paying more attention to the form–a Sestina with an attempt at iambic tetrameter.

earthbound, today–dVerse Quadrille

In the deep fall
don’t you imagine the leaves think how
comfortable it would be to touch
the earth instead of
the emptiness of air and the endless
freshets of wind?

Mary Oliver
Song for Autumn

earthbound, today

like leaves
slumbering on earth’s sweet body
protected from buffets
of unrelenting winds

I find my center
in the warmth of your embrace
listen to the pounding
of your heart

you hold me close
in the freshness
of early autumn air
and I surrender

Photo: Victoria Slotto

Today, Dee invites us to consider the nearing approach of autumn by writing a Quadrille using the word LEAVES. A Quadrille is a poem of exactly 44 words, no more, no less, exclusive of the title. Should you like to join in, head on over to dVerse Poets. 

Dark Night–dVerse Quadrille

Photo: Victoria Slotto

Dark Night

Awake ,
I listen to the soughing
of breezes
in palms,
the hooting of
a distant owl.

Midnight blue seeps
into the room,
into the womb
of my loneliness.

I listen to silence,
to your absence,
lulled,
into sleep
by the soughing
of wind.

You’re invited to join us at dVerse Poets where we are invited to write a quadrille, a poem of exactly 44 words, using the word “Lull.”

After Closing–a Haibun

Photo: findingtheperfectworld.blogspot.com

I sneak into the Pub after closing. The air still zings with the echoes of poets and their words. Energy pulsates. I touch words leftover, discarded in favor of others. I can’t let them lay there, rejected, so I scoop them up and slip them into my pocket, bulging now with promise.

It’s time to clean up, I know, but I’m in no hurry, so I slip into a booth in the back, light the candle and spread the words on the table, ignoring the scent of ale that still pervades the room. I realize I won’t be able to use them all tonight, but promise them I’ll keep them for another time.

Someone slips a key in the lock of the front door that I’d secured just minutes earlier, and flings it wide. Before I know it I hear a couple of voices, then three, then another until a low buzz builds into a cacophonous roar. They’re back, these poetry addicts, and it won’t be long before they notice me.

I hide the words in a couple of napkins—one with those I’m using and the others for next time.

I know they were here, a familiar voice says. Who could have taken them?

Before they notice me, I slip out the back. The rest of the work will wait.

Word addicts we are.
We cannot not consume them.
Drink of them deeply.

 

We are closing up a week of celebration for our third anniversary over at dVerse. Please join us.

Image: Michael Michalko