Turning Up Emeralds

The world is filled with poetic jewels. Sometimes it takes a while to find them. That's what happened with me and George Seferis, a Greek poet. I stumbled upon him, and feel enchanted by his every word.

Here are a few of his lines...

A little farther
we will see the almond trees blossoming
the marble gleaming in the sun
the sea breaking into waves...


And here is the poem his lines inspired in me...

Almonds...
I remember the scent
and how you crushed them,
their brown skins
turning to dust
scattering like spilled cinnamon.

Poetry Prompt: Next Friday at HighCallingBlogs, we're going to branch out and do another aspect of "Culture" besides poetry. RAP will resume the following week. In the meantime, you might try writing a brief poem based on the lines of someone else's poem.

POETRY FRIDAY:
High Calling Blogs Habitual Poetry
nAncY’s Holy
Glynn’s Who Were You in My Dream and Early Fall Leaves
Lorrie’s Fear
Monica’s Dream Girl
Kelly’s After Egypt
Jim's Thirty-Five

Jewels photo by Sara B. Used with permission.

Grace is a Painted Woman: Unfolding Imagination

Why do we fold up our imaginations when we get older? This question (my paraphrase) sparked Jeffrey Overstreet to write a novel about characters who fold their imaginations and put them away. I'm guessing it was the safe thing to do in that fantasy world. I'm guessing too that Overstreet probably uncovers the hidden dangers of squelching an ability to see the fantastical. (Sorry, Jeffrey, I haven't read the book, but it sounds really cool.)

Today I happened upon a brave poem that must have sprung from an open imagination. Here's the beginning...

I found grace
painting her toe-nails
along a street filled with graves.

She wore a white-lace hat
and a dress to match,
its bottom corners stained with grass.

I love that. Grace as a painted woman in white lace. How unusual. Very imaginative. This got me thinking about our next writing project. Why not open our imaginations, with the following prompt as a start? (Offerings due by next Thursday evening, March 19, for possible feature and definite links at High Calling Blogs).

I found my soul...

What did it look like? Was it animal, vegetable, mineral? Where was it sitting, standing, dancing? What else was it doing, or what was being done to it? A quick example (quick, not sophisticated, just for illustration purposes : )

I found my soul
in the oven, five days
old, almost empty but
for a few crusty flakes
and stray apples spilling
over the side of a glass
pie plate, threatening stainless
steel racks and self-cleaning
walls with caramelized sugar.

Okay, that's it. Let me know what you unfold.

Stained Glass photo by Elizabeth O. Weller, at Mindwhisperings. Used with permission. You can visit Elizabeth's Etsy Store here.

YOU TRIED IT:
Nikki's Awake, My Soul
Lynet's poem here in the comment box
Erica's Soul-Sucking Laundry
Cindy's A New Soul
Prairie Chick's I Found My Soul
Ivy Rain's The Journey
Laura's Soul Searching
Jim's I Found My Soul
Kimberly in the comment box
Brian's Reflections on Finding My Soul
nAncY's Find My Soul
Denise's I Find My Soul
Joelle's Finding Soul
Katrina's Where My Soul is Found
Robin's Set Free
Ann's Finding Lost Pieces
LL's Song of Myself
Emily's I Found My Soul in China
LL's daughter's En La Manana
Brian's I Found My Soul, Take 2
Michelle's Buried Treasure
MyBigThree's Up-Front Confession
Tina's I Found My Soul

POETRY FRIDAY:
High Calling Blogs RAP: Finding Poetry in Your Work, Your Wounds and Your Grass Stains
Marcus's The Myth of Grace
nAncY's Love > Death
Jim's Spring Training
Mom2Six's Son's Picture on the Wall
Cindy's Promised Paradise