SCRAMBLED!

SCRAMBLED!

Normal

Normal, Norman Doorman, doormat
Laundromat, Land-grant, Grant’s Tomb,
Trombone, Onions, Bunion, Bunyips,
Yipping, coyotes, whole notes, passing notes
Passing out, outside, yard, yard-arm,
Arm circles, cycles, circuit, Circe,
Pigs, wigs, toupe, touche, touch-not, not,
Note, notability, nobility, hillbilly
Billy goat, gloat, float, flotsam
Jetsam, Jetson’s, Flintstones, Fred
Freed, Fried, Deep-fat, Deep-sea, Diving
Driving, arriving, arising, rising, dough
Dough-boy, solider, spy, tinker, gypsy
Dancer, flamenco, flamingo, pink,
Beautiful, bountiful, bounteous, bouncy
Tigger, tiger, trigger, titter, laugh, giggle
Gargle, gargoyles, Duomo, Dumbo, elephant
Obelisk, Egyptian, Mesopotamian, Saxon,
Norman, Normal . . .

OMG! I didn’t think I was ever going to get here! Someone’s brain is not particularly . . .NORMAL. Well, ‘normal’ aside, I can see that the inside of my brain is about as tidy and orderly as my office. There were a couple of jumps there that are pretty wild . . . elephant to obelisk is rather odd . . . and about trombones and onions . . . don’t even ask! It made sense at the time.

It was interesting faucon, but I don’t think it’s my forte in life!

Life, soul, sole, singular, lone, alone, a loan, advance, progression, recession, depression, melancholy, holly, ivy, twining, snaking, naked, nude, bare, are, exist, live, life . . .

It’s slightly addicting, even when you’re brain is scrambled, fried, and/or sunny-side-up, 7up, Sprite, pixie, dust . . . all we are is Pixie Dust in the wind, dude.

Different Form

a fun exercise ... just let it flow

WORDS

kiss

miss mistake mistltoe

snow now wow how

hope grope nope slop

slip spill pill kill

skill skull pull pully

misty artsy risky frisky

frost most mope hope

hype type tryst missed

kiss


faucon

From Fran

This poem of Fran's was in the comments section of my last weaving. I love it so much I'm reposting it here. It is not a Fitzgerald, but it is a wonderful poem and a perfect weaving of the strand facon began and I carried on. Weave on Poets!


Seed line: I see clearly now


I see clearly now

Memory with understanding
of how you were, and how I was

So love endures, all guilt and sorrow
wiped from the misted screen
we walk together through our distant days

Try Again?

“Try again” to plant a seed?
Hoping to find some seed-weaver OTHER than me? :}
Hope does spring eternal!


Cherita Fitzgerald to Memory
Seed line: “Ah yes, I see clearly now …”


The bare black branches of winter are sharp and incisive

A world once misted and hazy, dim, fogged and shadowed
Drenched and dripping with tears and years of rain

Memory stills, distills, this window into wet washed clarity
Years and tears remain, but, yes, I see clearly now . . .
For the rain, at least, has gone

Try Again

Perhaps this will plant a seed ...

GIFT OF LAUGHTER (Fitz)

A chuckle cracks the shadow mirror.
Quips and mimic jibes polish the glass.
A giggle must attract the Goddess’ attention.
Simple glee refracts rainbows from a cluttered mind.

Ah yes, I see clearly now …
It is your laughter, not mine, that carries my soul along,
and guards me from the swirling voices of past deception.

Mermaid and Dryad

A Bit of Frothy Nonsense

CHERITA FITZGERALD
(Seed Line: From fish of the seas and birds on the wing)


From fish of the seas and birds on the wing

Dryads and mermaids come to dance and to sing
An earth deep dance washed with bright salt sting

Flaming with autumn, while remembering spring
This wet double reel filled with each kind of thing
That seething sea or stable shore, hand in hand, will bring

DIfferent Tack

Perhaps a different theme will excite someone --

Walking Action (CF)

Walking is simple, yet defines our lives …

a time of action between the child's crawl and the senile chair;
a phase of learning between contemplation and song;

a slowing down from headlong rush, so as to catch a breath.
A distinction, even a superior claim
from fish of the seas and birds on the wing.

faucon

For Heather

Someone here spoke of Amerindians
as having the true touch of the Spirit of the Earth.
consider ...

errie errie
(sonnet down under)


I wonder if they sense that I can never share
Pagan beliefs of Dreamlife and waratah bush,
Or fantasy of the lyrebird and brlga stare.
Yet I heard the lidgi-liji in evening hush.

"Cooma el ngruwar, ngruwar el cooma."
Chant loud, "illa booka mer ley errie errie."
White blotch aboriginals weave a mantra
Of medieval steps and heart rending cry.

The naked feet provide the only instrument,
Drumming resonance from the hardened earth.
Sometimes slow and pulsed like a child's heartbeat.
Often excited like magpies in mourning death.

You will find God here when the green ant flies.
Sing 'one is all, all is one, the soul never dies!'

Sanguine Source

seed: "Rocked with rhythm, pure pounded by pulse"

The simple drum … (CF)

is meant to seize the heart and stir the blood and prancing feet.

Yet there is more if you listen -- feel the throbbing pulsing
of the love's stroke on the simple bond of humanity's need.

Let your fingers feather touch my impassioned dreams.
Hear laughing moon and star-tinkling bells --
dance with the pulse of life.

faucon

Cherita Fitzgerald of Duende

Seed: There is time


Castanets of blood beat bright behind my ears,

This soft hollowed throat, a sweet swallowing Bodhran Drum,
Rocked with rhythm, pure pounded by pulse, the thumping, the throbbing

Of time. There is time. It is time. Veins brimming with time,
Hot and spurting, dark drowned in a mystery
The black bottom beat of this blood

Dancing Fitz

A Fitzgerald prompted by Wil Serphant, co-founder of Triad Bardic College
His words,
"dance the dance the Mother gave you
in the place she gave you to dance it in."
... this piece is framed and hangs in the 'Wizard Hall' at Sakin'el.

IN DANCE

Dance the dance
The Mother gave you.
Cycle birth and death a new.

Prance beyond
the place she gave you,
limit not your place to grow.

There is time
for here is yonder,
dance back to now and then forever.

By his Wil
The song will guide you,
hear with heart and steps of Light.

The Perception of Movement: Life

Seed: “Hands point and spin, and try to clap”

One heel forward, one toe back
Fast feet in the reel of time
Dervish spinning, on a slick track
Caught in the breath of a rhyme
Dancing past knowledge, past knowing
Flashing mirrors catching light
Moving past wisdom, past judgement
Into a space still and white

Here love is trapped
By a hand come unclapped

Hush Joining

seed: "standing hushed at the joining"

(gleaned from a longer poem written for Em last year)

"One heel forward, one toe back; dance in tune with chaos.
Hands point and spin, and try to clap, but miss a beat or two;
for there is no sure joining of what was and what will be,
save knowledge that love is born in light and mirror passion..."

but join with you I will.

faucon

Under Iris

Seed: "for in faith I know that spirit rain will fall in tune"


In faith, we know that spirit rain will fall

We have come to this place through cloud bursts of razors
Through bright, shouting showers of singing sun

Here we are at almost-understanding, my brother
Where we taste and know the plangent pulse and pull of existence
Standing hushed at the joining, shivering in the rainbow

Braiding in the rain

Seed: "Songs to shine ‘til they glisten"

The misted prayers of yesterday have clouded my resolve;

for in faith I know that spirit rain will fall in tune
that some may dance and others sing in joy.

My naked skin will moistly glisten
that others may see the space between the notes;
and I will hear the song of brotherhood and thee.

LETS WEAVE WORDS! - See the Braiding Challenge Below!

Spinning with Light

Indian Wisdom (cont'd)

(NOTE: I’m re-posting this and removing the original. Since it somehow came in with the date of October 2005 on it, it would otherwise stay at the top of the list until then. I think we need things to move down so we can see at a glance that something is new. I’ve re-posted all the comments as well, though they will come through as being from me, I cut and pasted them from the originals, so they correct in content. ~ Winnie)

Vision questing,burnt sage in hand,
sacred smoke cleanses the palette.
I sit rooted to this tree.
A tiny moth lands very close,unfolding it's wings,
displaying intricate patterns before my eyes.
The question-What is life? seems insignificant.
Native blood courses through my veins still.
Ancient wisdom beckons me to know it..and follow.

WAKE UP CHERITA FITZGERALD!!

I’m Baaaaaak! I’m not even sure which poem is the latest to be posted - so I’m grabbing a line out of each of the top three! Everybody wake up now and lets have some serious word braiding here! It’s 1:00 p.m. PST - 2:00 MST - 4:00 EST, 10:25 in Hawaii and . . . woops, 4:00 a.m. in Western Australia, (that lets you out I guess, Fran and Megan), but it’s 6:00 in Melbourne, certainly you’re not still in bed Heather?! I’m not even sure where everyone else is located. You don’t do Daylight Savings Time in Arizona do you?

ANYWAY! Lets see if we can get a braid going before night falls on the east coast. I know it’s Sunday, but if you’re out there - jump in!

Wake up Poets! We have wreathing words to weave

Songs to shine ‘til they glisten like effervescent rain
Like tears, like the glittering mica of tomorrow

Sparkles of words in which we can see reflections . . .
Our memory telling history, ancient wisdom calling us to follow
Wake up Poets ~ come braid shining, singing words with me!

A sharing

My brother and I rode to the church

We are the old ones now, senior generation
our memory telling history

He is gone now, I am left wondering
which niece will carry the story
who will listen to the tales of the fathers

PULSE (Fitz)

Gleaned from "Live Poets", 06/09/09 --
"Memories" by ~ Edwina Peterson Cross ~
"Feeling the plangent pulse of time

Break and blossom and bloom"

'till only gems remain
in which we can see reflections
of who we really are.

Within the chrystal hourglass,
trapped by fear and yearning,
trickle endless memories
in fond chaotic array.

It is the sharp edges
of pain and dispair
that causes them to spin,
and grate and scratch
our souls.

Yet, as we flip the glass
in each dawn's rebirth,
the plangent song caresses
and smooths
and sooths --
again.

faucon

Just Play

The last Fitz prompted some fine response but no 'braiding'.
At Sakin'el we have musical 'house concerts' on the porch,
and 'Joining Circles' around the fire pit
for Bardic Stories, song and often drumming --
join in ...

Fire Circle (Fitz)

The bright protected flames flicker
in the caress of approaching night,
and roar in awe of sudden gusting
awareness of the approaching storm.
Strange shadows dance in symmetry
with the strumming of Mother Earth
and the breathing of our bardic friends.
Gather close about to sing and dream,
for these torches will warm our hearts.


faucon

Mice Play

I wasn't necessarily attemting to start a new thread with the last Fitz, but Maya's thought may be true in part. So, here is one you might be able to play with ...


Indian Wisdom (Fitz)

The Crowfoot revered a plant whose flowers are so small they might escape the naked eye, proof that a man must not walk too tall. "What is life? It is the flash of a firefly in the trembling night. It is the little shadow which runs across the grass and loses itself in the sunset."