1. Go back to the grain yellow hills where the broken speak of elegance
2. Walk up to the canvas door, the short bed stretched against the clouds
3. Beneath the earth, an ant writes with the grace of a governor
4. Blow, blow Red Tail Hawk, your hidden sleeve—your desert secrets
5. You are there, almost, without a name, without a body, go now
6. I said five, said five like a guitar says six.
–Juan Filipe Herrera, from Five Directions to my house
first, bribe monkey mind
rest with agendas’ red dust
to reach, feel silk threads,
filamental melodies,
gurgling beyond undergrowth.
next, let your soles pad
along packed humus bouquet
where crushed clover sings
vaguely remembered bearings
cherished remembered places
stumbled upon in
deepest winter slumber’s dreams.
awake now, returned
to this homely abode as
a fondly remembered guest
steel and wooden shell
cushioned comfy clutter, sit
where weeds play with food,
where junk plays with treasure, where
tattered mat bids you welcome.
on no map, a hub,
spokes of which jump to and from
quantum fashioning.
roll along, Roma wagon
campfires under all heaven
I swear to God I found this video *after* finishing the poem. Getting the goosebumps listening to what he says.
5 reminders:
bribe
pad
awake
sit
roll
top image link
Laura is today’s host for dVerse’ Meet the Bar. Laura says:
So for today’s poetry prompt we are also taking “Five Directions to My House” as inspiration:
- write your poem in five stanzas of five lines per stanza (quintain)
- write as a Pentastich Quintain (unregulated rhyme, meter etc)
- each stanza is one of five ways to your house (real or imaginary)
- can be literal or metaphorical, measured in time, direction, etc or a mix
- the title is your own choice but must begin: “Five…………”
- include a reference to Hererra’s poem somewhere in your post
Tao Talk 
Only you can build up such beautiful imagery.
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Why thank you, Reena <3
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You are welcome.
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You had me at that first line and left me wondering if all of life isn’t just a dream.
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In the story of Chuang Tzu’s butterfly dream, he wondered that very thing. Thanks, Melissa.
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Beautiful, profound and yet whimsical poem Li.
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Sadje, thank you for reading and your lovely feedback <3
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It’s always my pleasure dear friend
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This is like embarking on five mini adventures, Lisa, led by ‘filamental melodies’! I love the thought of stumbling ‘in deepest winter slumber’s dreams’ and walking up in a Roma wagon.
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Glad you enjoyed it, Kim :)
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loved the travelling sense of the stanzas – part dreamscape, part path of freedom
” sit
where weeds play with food,
where junk plays with treasure,”
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Thank you, Laura, thank you for the prompt and for the feedback. You always challenge us and I always grow from the challenge.
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That’s so encouraging 👏
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“next, let your soles pad
along packed humus bouquet
where crushed clover sings
vaguely remembered bearings
cherished remembered places
stumbled upon in
deepest winter slumber’s dreams.”
Oh surely this is what my life feels like. You are an artisan in singing the clover path, Lisa!
Thank you for the humus bouquet.
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Kathy, thank you and glad the poem resonated with you <3
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Oh, anonymous is Kathy at writingpresence
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I can really feel the essence of how home can be anywhere where you decide to take your wagon (or maybe your tent)
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Bjorn, I’m glad you can feel such essence.
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This is lovely, Li. :)
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Thank you, Kitty :)
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I like this intersection of dreamworld and garden. I don’t normally watch music videos in posts, but omg, yes. His guitar could carry me into a dream world.
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Glad you enjoyed the poem and the music. Agreed on the way he plays, it does feel like a gateway to an altered state of mind.
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You’re welcome.
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Your secret dream, that place between untidy junk heap and mysterious wilderness.
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<3
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“where junk plays with treasure”–my favorite image among many. Magic. (K)
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Kerfe, thank you. Happy you enjoyed it.
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That’s me above, forgot to log in.
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Nice one Lisa…and I love that picture.
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Thank you, Max. I do also. Looks so inviting.
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Nice poem, Lisa. Your cover photo is incredible and reminds me of a photographer I know from Facebook. You won’t believe his name: John Entwistle! (https://www.johnentwistlephotography.com)
I also love the musician with the Spanish guitar. As you may recall, this was the first instrument I studied during my teenage years growing up in Germany. And while I practiced a lot and I guess was an okay player, I never reached that level of sophistication.
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Not *the* John Entwistle is it?? Yes, that image is my dream place to get away. I’m sorry to hear you don’t play your Spanish guitar anymore. What a waste to the world not to share that skill. I noticed he uses his thumbnail for a pick. Is that the usual for playing Spanish guitar?
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Nope, that would be outright weird, given the Ox sadly passed away more than 20 years ago!
And, yep, regarding Spanish guitar, it’s quite common to pick the strings with your finger nails. I allowed to grow mine on the right hand as well.
I’m sure some folks who had no idea why thought it was strange. Nowadays, probably not so much – you see guys with painted finger and toe nails. It’s not my thing, but I have absolutely no problem with it!
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This poem is absolutely beautiful friend
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Ms, thank you.
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