Amputated Moon

the tea kettle warms consistent in its call still the rain water pours from faucet into bowls and cups still the rain your soft exhalations of early morning dreams still the rain midnight retreats into shadows along the wall still the rain mourning doves singing the day open still the rain morning comes still the rain Pamela Olson, 7/31/09 For Totally Optional Prompts “midnight” 7 comments

a feather of scent lights on my shoulder a small reminding gift seven years old dusk claiming the sky honeysuckle wound up and around the yard light that knows secretly when the sun has fallen but its light is still captured in the black bars of eucalyptus and palms a vesper prayer laid gently into the quiet air as mothers call their children home Pamela Olson, 7/27/09 For One Single Impression’s prompt “fragrance” 18 comments

  it is the prow of the boat that speaks to me creaks and groans water being sliced in two language of journey lies restlessly in an intertidal flow like a nautical inner voice moving my compass seaward: seaward toward the salt water and a northerly current bearing this fragile body into the deep unknown into a dreaming borealis Pamela Olson, 7/20/09 For One Single Impression’s prompt, “inner voice” 16 comments

thoughts fall away
like leaves kissed by
cold nights and short days

ideas flowing like a stream
eddys and whirlpools circling
thoughts upon themselves

thoughts as bright as sunlight
held tightly within a hand
only to be freed again

one by one
as fingers slowly
uncurl

Pamela Olson, 7/18/09

For One Single Impression's
prompt, "thinking"

3 comments

gloom is clinging to the corners of the room feel the shift in the atmosphere between transparency and deep shadow kneel at the intersection of light and dark pray here meditate on the boundaries within this place pray

Pamela Olson, 7/8/09

For Three Word Wednesday “gloom, kneel, transparent” 11 comments

knocking on the moonlit door
waiting for an answer
weary from walking the road
the traveler asks
is anybody there?

only a moment
here on a doorstep
a short pause
within a journey
there is no answer

simply a knock
echoing sharply
within an empty house
a breath caught and held
hope caught in his throat

time has stopped
the earth hangs still
rotation halts
the knock still waits
for answering footsteps

silence breaks through
windows and door
time begins again
the traveler turns
and goes

Pamela Olson, 7/7/09

For Carry on Tuesday's prompt:
"Is there anybody there?" said the Traveller, knocking on the moonlit  
door from "The Listeners" by Walter de la Mare.

10 comments

I've laid me down
in Orion's shadow
with sharp needled pines
beneath my back

Galaxies spin
over branches
I open my mouth
and drink them in

Orion sings within me
his song stays hidden
in my bones
only I know the words

When my breath flies out
and there is no return
I will sink beneath soil
covered in humus and debris

But that song will remain
until some future night
as Orion rises over the pines
my bone-dust begins to sing

Pamela Olson, 7/5/09

For One Single Impression's prompt,

"The Stranger"

17 comments

gliding frailty along a trough of rough waters   hollowed bones muscle and air enough to stay aloft   enough to endure a slam through water’s tensed surface   to find food then to break free into the air   brokenness then resurrection again and again     Pamela Olson, 7/3/09 1 comment

dawn calls to me early   early as summer tumbles forward into the soft gray light clinging to tree to field and fence early no birds singing early the corn has paused in its frantic crackling growth early before the soft talk between you and I before the getting ready and the going dawn calls to me early Pamela Olson, 7/1/09 3 comments