Color

Photo by Swisscan, from Flicker.com

Color

Shade me
Blend me
Mix me
Make me
Speak of my Hue
Baby my blue
Brush me
Fade me
Smear me
Feather me
Speak of my tones
My spectrum unknown


© November 11, 2012, Robbie Pruitt


This sassy little poem, Color, was submitted on the TweetSpeak’s Every Day Poems poetry prompt on Facebook here and for the November Surrealism Poetry Prompt on TweetSpeak Poetry, offered by Seth Haines here.

This poem was also submitted to Open Link Night at dVerse Poets. To see more poems submitted, please visit the site. The links will be live at 2 p.m. Central time today.

Death Becomes Her: Death A Corps de ballet

Ballerina in a Death's Head, by Salvador Dali (1939), 

Photo from WikiPaintings

For a glossary of ballet terms, your “secret decoder ring” for this poem, see Wikipedia here.

Death Becomes Her:
Death A Corps de ballet

Death becomes her
Dance—and death
Becomes a blur

Death danced the ballerina
Pirouette
Before death beset

Allegro—Death
Shows its cards
Through bone shards

Avant
The dance
Confronts

Battlement
Dance death back
From where it was sent

Changement
Dance into another
Life—Into arms of Lover

Deboulé
Death left speechless
With nothing more to say

Entrée—Resurrect
Fouetté
Before death suspects

Hortensia
Shatter death’s teeth
Life just within reach

Jeté—The peril
Death of all classes
And Jeté life to the masses

Life ouverte—Reveal
No more death to steal
Life! And death—surreal

Nine lives—Pas de chat
Death confused
Life is where we’re at

From death’s dark
Shadows—Passé
Live for another day

Port de bras
Piqué the Devils eyes
Beginning his demise

The last Quatrième
Death unraveled
At the seam

Renversé—the curse
Dance—and death
Turns in Reverse

Soubresaut—lift from death
To life—Sauté—Frappé
The end of death’s day

Temps levé
Tombé—Death falls
Waltz—The dance calls

Tours en l'air—Salvation occur!
Dance—and death
Becomes a blur

Coda
From death to life
Bestowed


© November 20, 2012, Robbie Pruitt


This poem, Death A Corps de ballet: Death Becomes Her, was submitted for the November Surrealism Poetry Prompt on TweetSpeak Poetry, offered this Monday by Seth Haines here.

For this surrealism poetry prompt, “Building on the tradition of Dali’s “The Faces of War,” can you re-imagine the coming world,” I decided to look at “Ballerina in a Death's Head,” by Salvador Dali (1939), and the war between death and life.

In imagining the world to come, it is clear that death has to be overcome before redemption and restoration. The war against death here is a dance where beauty begins to emerge from the “shadow of death” itself. While death seeks to become us, or overcome us, it can be transcended in resurrection in the beautiful dance with the author of life, The Author of Resurrection.

This poem was also submitted to Open Link Night at dVerse Poets. To see more poems submitted, please visit the site. The links will be live at 2 p.m. Central time today.

Lost Lovers

The Lovers, by Rene Magritte, 1928

“We must not fear daylight just because it almost always illuminates a miserable world.” –Rene Magritte

“To be a surrealist means barring from your mind all remembrance of what you have seen, and being always on the lookout for what has never been.” –Rene Magritte

Lost Lovers

Two lovers lost
In disguise
Closed and discreet
Are their eyes

Sealed with soft kiss
Between the sack
Love is lost
Never to look back

Love is bliss
Concealed under cover
Beneath the kiss
Lost lover

Cover over and dismiss
Disguised to conceal
Reality—would be remiss
Love surreal

A kiss only as truthful
As the appeal—and love
Only as honest as the lovers
At the reveal


© November 6, 2012, Robbie Pruitt

This poem is based on Rene Magritte’s “The Lovers” and the idea that love can be an illusion. . . Sometimes lovers are lost. . . as the saying goes, “love is blind. . . ” So far as love is real and genuine, love is truthful. . . Love is not always what it seems. Sometimes love is objectified as “lovers” objectify one another, or love the ideal or idea of love and not the actual person. . . Sometimes love is surreal. . .

This poem was submitted for the November Surrealism Poetry Prompt on TweetSpeak Poetry, offered this Monday by Seth Haines here.

This poem was also submitted to Open Link Night at dVerse Poets. To see more poems submitted, please visit the site. The links will be live at 2 p.m. Central time today.

Water-Soluble Time

Photo of Salvador Dali's, “Persistence de la memoire” (1974) 

Water-Soluble Time

I cannot keep time
It drips like Dali
Time ticks . . . and time . . .
Sticks—at my folly
Time drips in reverse
Falls in 60-minute digression
Springs forth and flows north
In 60-minute aggression
Time melts in savings
Sometimes I’m at a loss
I cannot keep time
It washes over—then out
Over face of glass,
Then, clouded over
Resistance is not proof
Hands have frozen
And seconds are aloof
Time washes in and out
The tide keeps time
The tide took time
And I watch from the beach
. . .my place in time . . .
Just out of reach


© November 4, 2012, Robbie Pruitt


This poem was submitted for the November Surrealism Poetry Prompt on TweetSpeak Poetry, November Surrealism Poetry Prompt–A Musical Playlist, offered on Monday by Seth Haines here.

This poem was also submitted to Open Link Night at dVerse Poets. To see more poems submitted, please visit the site. The links will be live at 2 p.m. Central time today.

Scary Silence and the Hope that Would Emerge

The Drama of Scripture cover from Amazon.com

An epic poem based on The Drama of Scripture: 
Finding Our Place in the Biblical Story

By Craig G. Bartholomew and Michael W. Goheen 

Prologue: The Bible as Grand Story

Act 1: God Establishes His Kingdom:Creation

Act 2: Rebellion in the Kingdom:Fall

Act 3: The King Chooses Israel: Redemption Initiated

Interlude: A Kingdom Story Waiting for an Ending: 

The Intertestamental Period 

Act 4: The Coming of the King: Redemption Accomplished

Act 5: Spreading the News of the King:

The Mission of the Church

Act 6: The Return of the King: Redemption Completed

Interlude: A Kingdom Story Waiting for an Ending:
The Intertestamental Period

Scary Silence and the Hope that Would Emerge

The hardest thing to do is wait
When the silence is so loud it sounds like hate
Though the promise was made, the Word was not spoken
The fear washed over at all that was broken
The promise was given and His good plan emerging
It was at Bethlehem that heaven and earth would be merging
Silence would be broken by a babies cry
The entire world would hear, as the Angels would begin to sing
Good tidings they would bring
But not before this deafening silence stings
Scary silence and the hope that would emerge
All is coming together and all will transpire
The coming of our King and the salvation He will bring
When all will rise up out the mire
Salvation birthed at what would transpire
But now the echoing silence and the quiet dance
Until the Bridegroom brings the romance
Nothing is happenstance
All will come to pass and all will be revealed
In the incarnation, nothing is sealed

This is how the interlude ends,
With silence and stillness— and waiting for amends


© September 4, 2012, Robbie Pruitt