am·a·teur
\ˈa-mə-(ˌ)tər, -ˌtu̇r, -ˌtyu̇r, -ˌchu̇r, -chər\ n. often attrib

[F, from L amator lover, fr. amare to love]

Thursday, January 29, 2015

Weekly Wikems. White.


Hi everyone, it's Thursday. Wikems time.

Wikipedia poems - wikems. 

Here's the idea:
  • Each Thursday I post a link to a Wikipedia article, a quote from it and my wikem inspired by that quote.
  • I invite you to check out the article, searching for a quote that clicks with you.  (You are free to use the quote I provide if it happens to be the one.)  
  • Once you've found your quote, use it as an epigraph, write your wikem, and post a link to it in the comments below.  (You are welcome to post your wikem directly in the comments if you prefer.)

 Let's play:



This is what my backyard looks like when we get snow.  The picture is not from this week - the blizzard didn't reach us at all - no, it's actually from last week.  We had one perfect winter day.  The following morning the snow was gone.
 
So, here's your Wikipedia article: 


  
Here's my wikem:

THE COLOR OF FIRE 
“White is the color of fresh snow…the color produced by the combination of all the colors of the visible spectrum.”

The flames slip in
through the drawn blinds,
dance on the crisp sheets,
cool - hot to the touch.

Winter storms blaze,
lit their way, as they explore
each other’s intricate lines,
never taking the same path.

White light is all they see–
the prism of time will
disperse it into colors–
for now they are blind.

Blind, and the snow
comes down, hard, steady,
and the wild fire rages,
and they burn clear. 



Thank you for reading my wikem.  
I look forward to reading yours.

Live for the Love of it,
Sasha A. Palmer (a.k.a. "Happy")

Tuesday, January 27, 2015

A short tale in haiku (prompted by Wordgathering)






he never quite knew
what he did when he gave her
that pair of small wings

he used to keep them
in an old box always locked
until she came by

he thought they would match
the clothes she wore the color
of asphalt and clouds

she claimed those wings no
they claimed her as soon as she
put them on they grew

he tried to cut them
like her hair they grew longer 
they tore her apart

she never quite knew
if she was crucified or
flying perhaps both




Live for the Love of it,
Sasha A. Palmer (a.k.a. “Happy”)

Written for Poem Tryouts

Thursday, January 22, 2015

Weekly Wikems. Odyssey.



Hi everyone, it's Thursday. Wikems time.

Wikipedia poems - wikems. 

Here's the idea:
  • Each Thursday I post a link to a Wikipedia article, a quote from it and my wikem inspired by that quote.
  • I invite you to check out the article, searching for a quote that clicks with you.  (You are free to use the quote I provide if it happens to be the one.)  
  • Once you've found your quote, use it as an epigraph, write your wikem, and post a link to it in the comments below.  (You are welcome to post your wikem directly in the comments if you prefer.)

 Let's play:
My 9-year old son proudly informed me the other day that - since he's 25% Greek - his ancestor is Odysseus.

So, here's your Wikipedia article for today: 


 Here's my wikem:

STORYTELLING
"...their bed was made from an olive tree still rooted to the ground."

He tells her of ancient Greece,
Mount Olympus with its gorges,
and peaks, and gorgeous gods,
quick-tempered, violent,
unleashing their vengeance 
against mortals and each other.
 
He tells her of shining Ithaca, 
a tanned boy out in the sun,
a man with sea water in veins,
longing for voyage and land,
a wanderer whose very name
is casting lament upon his brow.

At nightfall he sheds his stories,
heart bared, stands before her,
trembling, heeding her silence,
a boy-man, rugged, tender,
weathered skin – a map of travels,
its salty lines aching for touch.

She takes his hand, leads him
into the deep of the island,
through the familiar orchard,
to the wedding bed, the olive
still rooted to the ground,
awaiting his homecoming.




Thank you for reading my wikem. 

I look forward to reading yours.

Live for the Love of it,
Sasha A. Palmer (a.k.a. "Happy")

 

Tuesday, January 20, 2015

Phoenix rises on February 1st. Don't miss.



Reblogged from https://phoenixrisingpg.wordpress.com/

PhoenixPGLogo1 
"Welcome to the PHOENIX RISING POETRY GUILD. The name of this poetry group is derived from the creature of Greek mythology. As you know, a phoenix is a long-lived bird that is cyclically regenerated or reborn. Associated with the sun, a phoenix obtains new life by arising from the ashes of its predecessor.
And as well, the dictionary describes a guild as an organization of persons with related interests and goals, especially one formed for mutual aid or protection. The combination of these two concepts is the basis for the change in name, design, thinking and presentation.
“Arising from the ashes” of the CREATIVE BLOOMINGS poetry blog, “The Guild” will feature the works written and assembled by the poets of the former site as well as new voices who wish to join in poetic pursuits, all nurtured in the creative process and dedicated to the words and rhymes that themselves arise from the subjects and prompts featured here. It will try to stay less ambitious than it’s former site and hopefully without a “competitive” nature."


Great news and very exciting times ahead.

All the best to the old-new site.

Phoenix rises on Feb. 1st! 

Thursday, January 15, 2015

Weekly Wikems. Fog.


The year is young, beginnings abound, T.H.A. is in dire need of renewal, Atlanta is foggy, and Wikipedia turns fourteen today.  So, I come up with…
Wikems.
Wikipedia poems.

Here’s the idea:
  • Each Thursday – starting today, January 15th, 2015 – I will post a link to a Wikipedia article, a quote from it and my wikem inspired by that quote.
  • I invite you to check out the article, searching for a quote that clicks with you.  (You are free to use the quote I provide if it happens to be the one.)  
  • Once you've found your quote, use it as an epigraph, write your wikem, and post a link to it in the comments below.  (You are welcome to post your wikem directly in the comments if you prefer.)

 Let's play:
 Here's your Wikipedia article for today:




Here's my wikem:

SWINGING
"Fog is a collection of liquid water droplets or ice crystals suspended in the air at or near the Earth's surface."


She swings, her long body
elongating even more
as, coming towards him,
she leans back, laughing,
eyes closed, neck curved,
blood rushing to her head,
her bare feet kicking the sky.

She climbs to the peak
and, reaching it, she stops,
breathless, translucent
like a sunray, or wind,
or a droplet of water,
suspended in the air
near the Earth’s surface.

The swings exhale,
and, lassoed by gravity,
she falls, surrendering,
letting go of the ropes,
leaning in, eyes fixed on him,
as she moves further away,
into the morning fog.



Thank you for reading my wikem.  I look forward to reading yours.  


Live for the Love of it,
Sasha A. Palmer (a.k.a. "Happy")