Trapped in Blue

The prompts today are Trap, and Blue. Instead of doing a mash-up, I did two.

In the Arms of the Beloved
by Beth Weaver-Kreider

You can’t escape the blue,
the windy robe of the Beloved
draped like a veil over the rim
of your living, over the bowl
of your holiest spaces,

and scattered deep within
the indigo arms
of the tree-shadows,
indigo bluer than soul,
pathways striping the
afternoon green, leading
you home to the arms
of your most desired Mystery.


Trapped in the Anagrams
by Beth Weaver-Kreider

I am rapt. I start prattling, debating.
I stay apart: No parties. No pasta.
No prattling patter. I’m caught in the strata.
No matter, I rap and I mutter.
This pome can’t escape
the trap and the stutter,
lodged under a tarp of ratatat blather,
of anagram chatter.

Not Why, But How

Today’s Prompt on the Poetic Asides blog is to write a Reason Poem:

There is no reason.
Simply this:
The Beloved is. And you are.
And that is all there is for reason.

Oh, there’s a tiny blue butterfly
on a golden flower in a field of green.
And the way that vulture
stood upon the wind
above the river last winter,
how you could see
the snow-furred animal shape of the ridge
through the stripes of naked trees.

Love slips out through the bars of reason.
Like the butterfly, like the vulture.
Like golden, like whisper, like tears.
It’s more vision than reason,
more realm, more white horse
galloping through dream.
More one single ray of light
shining through the forest canopy
to sparkle on a stone at your feet.

Why do you love me? has only one answer:
You are. But how? Now there is a question
with myriad answers, vast as the universe.
Look up and outward, and you will see.

How do you love me? you ask the Beloved.
She answers: Stone, sunshine, horse,
breeze, butterfly, waterfall, and blue, blue, blue.