The water is swift, yet gentle,
Flowing from the source
Of the thought arising from a moment—
A thought which, though awaited,
Has taken me unaware,
Shifting my little barque
From the deadness of the shore
Into this current.
The river is clear and sparkling.
The air is wonderfully fresh
As if newly washed with rain.
I am borne quietly rocking
Toward a horizon not noticed before.
My journey’s end, far away yet,
Seems to shimmer with hope.
The sweetness of the promise there
Drifts back across the water.
I breathe in its fragrance
And feed my waiting heart.
Then, with the gracefulness
Of a child slipping into sleep,
The vision melts down the sky into night.
The water beneath my small crafts stills.
I hear only the small, gentle slapping
Of the water against the side of my boat,
And my own breath stirring in the balmy air.
The sky is filled with stars—
Each sheer point of light a reminder,
A memory of the sweetness of hope
At the edge of the horizon—
Floating here, I am at peace and dreaming
Of an unexpected moment
Lighting up the edge of day.
The vision offered to the waiting heart.
Musing on Kandinsky’s “In a Black Circle”
Around and around we spin,
Revealed at the instant
Of our isolation
Within the deep black night.
All our little lights flicker, echoes
Of color already slipping
Into an infinite depth of shadow;
The flame and cry
Of our brief life
A mere nanosecond anomaly
Already disappearing
Within the dead black globe of night.
LOTUSLAND (I Remember Kreisler)
The siren song throbbed
from the violin’s throat
and the great auditorium
misted away
We soared in lyric wonder
to ethereal gardens
of stars and mirrored pools
and white flowers floating
Tribute to Friend
With a distant light as my guide
I stumble through the darkest night.
Fear grips my inner soul while I move
Slowly, step by step, towards the promise
Of that light, but when nearly there
The light seems to shrink as I can
I see it is but one small candle.
How bright it seemed in that black eyed day
Yet here it is just one small, pale-yellow flame.
The promise in that light is clear to me now.
The darkest, most fearful night can be braved
If only one small candle lights the way.
AUTHOR NOTES
GLASS RAIN—the poetry by Margaret Roxby
“LOTUSLAND (I Remember Kreisler)” is included this week for December 13, National Violin Day. About this poem, the poet wrote to her poetry Round Robin group:: “…from hearing him play in the Shrine Auditorium in Pittsburgh [sometime in the] the early 1930s.” Also interesting is the fact that the author’s paternal grandfather, Alonzo Raper, was a well-known fiddler in their region and had guested on radio.
REFRACTIONS— a poem by Robert Roxby
“TRIBUTE TO A FRIEND” was presented at a memorial in 1991, possibly for the author’s childhood friend, Joe Nesbit. It is included this week for December 11, United Nations Candle Lighting Day, and December 12 United States Ding-A-Ling Day (a day to contact someone, old friend, someone no longer in touch).
THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS—the poetry of Kathleen Roxby
“MUSING ON KANDINSKY’S In a Black Circle” is included this week for Wassily Kandinsky, Russian painter and art theorist, who was born and died in December. Kandinsky is a favorite one of the author’s favorite artists.
SUBMISSION GUIDELINES
Readers who write in response to one of the prompts listed each month in Splintered Glass, may see their work presented here on the last week of that month. Though poems are preferred, short prose work will also be considered for publication.
Guidelines for submission:
SPLINTERS FOR DECEMBER 2022
A PRESENT FOR THE WAITING HEART
The water is swift, yet gentle,
Flowing from the source
Of the thought arising from a moment—
A thought which, though awaited,
Has taken me unaware,
Shifting my little barque
From the deadness of the shore
Into this current.
The river is clear and sparkling.
The air is wonderfully fresh
As if newly washed with rain.
I am borne quietly rocking
Toward a horizon not noticed before.
My journey’s end, far away yet,
Seems to shimmer with hope.
The sweetness of the promise there
Drifts back across the water.
I breathe in its fragrance
And feed my waiting heart.
Then, with the gracefulness
Of a child slipping into sleep,
The vision melts down the sky into night.
The water beneath my small crafts stills.
I hear only the small, gentle slapping
Of the water against the side of my boat,
And my own breath stirring in the balmy air.
The sky is filled with stars—
Each sheer point of light a reminder,
A memory of the sweetness of hope
At the edge of the horizon—
Floating here, I am at peace and dreaming
Of an unexpected moment
Lighting up the edge of day.
The vision offered to the waiting heart.
DO YOU KNOW CAMELOT?
Do you know Camelot–
Shining dream of yore
The realm of magic remembered
In song and lore
Along the cliffs of Cornwall?
Have you known
Guinevere,
King Arthur
The noble knights of the Table Round?
Mysterious Merlin,
Morgan le Fay from the land of Gore?
Lovely Elaine and Lancelot,
Their spirits, it is said
Still haunt the shores
Along the cliffs of Cornwall.
Sometimes, in dreams I drift away
To that far gold place,
Where bright deeds
And dark enchantment
Vied for glory
In the golden hours
In the storied land of Cornwall.
If you should someday pass that way,
Look sharp!
For you may find my heart there
Dwelling well in the time of old
Along the cliffs of Cornwall.
THE DREAM
I saw a man build a dream.
At first I could not believe
But when I tried to awaken
I was already too wide awake.
Suddenly it seemed all too real, true.
Just as if I was really there
Taking my place in that man’s dream.
Everything we did seemed so real
I felt as if I had always
Been there in that man’s dream
But it was not a dream—was it?
For there is a place of dreams
And they do come to life sometimes
For those who believe in dreams.
AUTHOR NOTES
GLASS RAIN—the poetry by Margaret Roxby
“DO YOU KNOW CAMELOT?” is included this week for Dec 8 – Pretend To Be A Time Traveler Day. The poet never decided on this version, leaving it untitled. For this release, the first line was made the title.
REFRACTIONS— a poem by Robert Roxby
“THE DREAM” was written in response to a viewing of the film “Field of Dreams.” It is included this week for Dec 8 – Pretend To Be A Time Traveler Day.
THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS—the poetry of Kathleen Roxby
“A PRESENT FOR THE WAITING HEART” first appeared in the author’s chapbook, Chameleon Woman, 2000.