PROMPT #386 – NEW HORIZONS

We’re looking off into the near distance, searching our horizon for the next big thing. Every adventure is out there for our taking as long as we’re making a concerted effort to reach for it. Of course, writing a horizon poem will work for you here as well. Or take a new look at an old thing and make it new (relatively) again! We stand on the cusp of that brave new world. Where will it take you?

MARIE’S OUTLOOK:

Fog may blur your view
of hope on the horizon,
but it’s no less there.

#seventeenintwentytwo

WALT’S SCAN:

BLUE HORIZON SKIES

 I return with regularity. To empty my mind; to achieve clarity. And it is a rarity that I can attain both. But along this shoreline, life reveals itself. It pulls memories from my mental shelves and splays them before me in these azure skies. Sights for my weary eyes, it is no surprise that I return. These thoughts inspire by my mind’s mire! 

 I find a place, a space where I can plant myself. And vacate the moment, searching the horizon for some semblance of beauty that reminds me of you. The sky is blue. But, it is not maudlin, nor melancholy. Brilliant and bright and jolly, cloud pocked and wholly enveloping. And portraits of you start developing in my heart.

 seagulls take their terns
 we are birds of a feather 
we soar to the clouds    

 © Walter J. Wojtanik - 2022

102 thoughts on “PROMPT #386 – NEW HORIZONS

  1. SEEN FROM QUEENSTOWN PIER, 11 APRIL 1912

    The ship
    is sinking fast
    from view, taking with her
    dreams, schemes, and extreme hopes that curl
    toward the rim of the world.

  2. THE TRUTH ARISES

    The horizon lies on the top tier of truth.
    It never lies—and never lies in bed with falsehood.
    It only relies on the heavy burden of cosmic sun. Those who truly see it will witness and realize,
    its beauty and proof.

    © Benjamin Thomas

  3. Views

    Horizons can be futures,
    or views of our pasts.

    The place we stand,
    from which our view is cast,
    depends on the direction
    of our heart.

    Lines between
    land and sky…
    more than art;
    they make
    the place we are
    either end
     or start.

    © Damon Dean, 2022

  4. SURE HORIZONS

    Sometimes it’s hard to kiss the edge
    of destiny.

    To stop squirming, wriggling, writhing,
    in blasphemy.

    To let go of all the invasive vines encompassing
    me.

    To have a firm hand on the ledge of inevitable;
    climb peacefully, joyfully.

    © Benjamin Thomas

  5. My Horizons

    When I was ten,
    I read Shakespeare,
    And wanted to be a writer…
    (Before that I wanted to be a dancer,
    Or an opera singer…my dreams
    Were always high.)
    But that horizon
    Was always out there
    Just beyond
    This detour
    or had to wait
    until car was repaired.
    Sixty years later,
    I am one.

    As a young woman
    I thought I would get married,
    Only to find no one wanted me.
    I had wanted children…
    What I got was a job
    Where there were
    Children enough
    For anyone,
    For they brought me joy,
    And when I said goodbye…
    They brought me sorrow.

    In my midlife…
    I just wanted to live,
    and here I am
    living still…

    They call me a senior…
    And there are those
    Calculating
    When I will be
    Sent away
    To spend idle days
    Alone
    Just waiting to die.
    I smile
    For that horizon
    Is still out there…
    I have a few more
    Detours to make
    Before I get
    To that expiration date,
    And those people
    Can just wait…
    I am still on this road
    Chasing my next horizon,
    And guess what
    It is not a cemetery plot…
    I am not sure
    What it will be
    But it is not that…
    For I got some livin’
    To do and I plan to do it.

    Mary Elizabeth Todd
    May 15, 2022

  6. Beyond the Horizon
    (englyn penfyr)

    In their hearts humans plan their course, but the Lord establishes their steps.
    Proverbs 16:9

    Past the horizon, if all goes as planned,
    I fanned flames, only God knows.
    He watches with water hose.

    Travels, music, writing, art, friendships, fun.
    He’s the One that does His part.
    He’s the horse and I’m the cart.

    And, of course, there’s the mundane, daily things.
    He sings through sunshine and rain.
    He loves through triumph and pain.

    Life is complex, I must rely on God.
    Through odd notions and concepts,
    I make plans, He guides my steps.

  7. Going past the West End of the Work Zone

    an open road
    beyond barriers
    in south dakota
    sky burnt orange
    as the sun fades
    another town
    appears
    in the countryside
    a vision shimmers
    for weary eyes
    a calling
    to go beyond
    conversations
    in a convenience store
    small talk made
    as if
    i’m with friends
    and a pause
    before stepping
    out the door
    when a bell rings
    car keys in hand
    an invitation
    even as
    time presses on me
    to venture beyond
    what I know
    far away from home
    wanderlust
    in life well-lived
    as dusk shadows the land
    a desire of the heart
    to go further west
    and take a chance
    I may never have again

  8. Natural Horizon

    Trees tremble in fear,
    as Earth’s fever drains the lakes.
    Spring lambs keep sleeping

    White snow still on peaks,
    Summer thirsts for its melting,
    windows need cleaning.

    Brown season is here
    There’s smoke on the horizon
    The roof needs tending.

    Orange Navels are eaten,
    Valencia’s unflavored.
    What of the apples?

    Soft light from afar,
    the new buds need attention.
    Bees remain divine.

    Red flowers open,
    Pomegranates in waiting.
    We must make sun tea.

    Pink roses whisper.
    Bougainvilleas scream color.
    Pastels still enchant.

    Spring’s colors fading,
    Summer blooms soon in season.
    Seedlings need water.

    Epi’s bloomed briefly,
    cactus flowers much the same.
    I must call my Friends.

  9. Horizon 2

    For the second time
    in fifty years, I’m beset
    by Agent Orange.

    Having borne guilt, shame,
    regret and sadness, I have
    no room left for hate.

    I am attempting
    to be open, cheerful, and
    at the same time, brave.

    She said, do what you
    can. If you can’t, you just can’t.
    Nothing else to it.

    My mind doesn’t know
    what’s real or imagined.
    I might as well dream.

    My brain tells me to
    criticize, to run my mouth.
    My heart wants to help.

    All prayers are answered,
    but God’s rejections
    are just Sprit’s protections.

    So happy for the
    joy in my life now. I am
    filled with abundance.

    Sirens in the far
    distance do not trouble me.
    Busy with the birds.

    You will discover
    unexpected treasure, says
    the fortune cookie.

  10. I rise
    To a new day
    And look toward the Son
    What does He have in store for me?
    Whatever it is, I rise

  11. In The Distance

    I see in the distance
    Through the foggy haze
    A dark and ominous figure
    Haloed by the rising sun
    Walking straight for me
    Ever larger with each step
    I find I cannot move

    Then I see in the distance
    A second figure rise
    Following in the footsteps
    Of the one closing in on me
    This second figure calms me
    Though I cannot explain why
    Yet I still cannot move

    The sun rises higher
    As the foggy haze dissolves
    No longer dark and ominous
    I now can see his face
    Masculine and gentle
    Eyes wrinkled with a smile
    The face that I see is me

    He came straight at me
    And I still could not move
    Then at the last second
    Our souls seemed to merge
    I felt a sudden renewal
    Like my purpose had returned
    From years of its wandering

    Then figure two came into view
    With His arms open wide
    The lock on my feet loosened
    And I ran to Him and bowed
    His mighty hand lifted me up
    He welcomed me home again
    Then we walked into the distance
    Together

  12. Moving On

    When we move on we
    leave nothing behind.
    It all comes with us – the good,
    the bad, the things that made
    us stronger, wiser, more
    compassionate. It’s up to us
    to decide which of those things
    we’ll unpack to share with friends
    and family, to reflect on or laugh about,
    and which ones will stayed boxed up,
    where they belong, until someone comes
    along who needs our stories to help them
    keep going until their time comes to move on.

  13. Thanks to you all for your kind comments.

    Walt, there is so much to admire in the construction of your poem. You took me right there with you, and I feel like I’ve just walked the shoreline. I suspect a redheaded muse was involved. ❤

  14. Red Moon Eclipse

    They call it the flower moon…
    The day had been sunny,
    But as evening arrived…
    The clouds rolled in,
    But still I planned
    To go out to see the eclipse
    With my nephew…
    As the clock neared
    The time,
    We decided
    To go into the horizon
    To see if we could see
    The sun, the earth, and the moon
    Align and we turned
    To that horizon and came to the remnants
    Of the old bridge
    That crossed a bit of the once
    Mighty Savannah River…
    There we watched the clouds
    Form a face around the crescent moon
    And as the moon became darker
    As the light retreated…
    The color maroon was its shadow-
    A blood moon they say…
    We talked of the night
    Two decades before
    When I had been at death’s door,
    And this nephew took
    Me out to watch the star’s dance…
    They were wonderous that night,
    And so was this night.
    I told him
    I would keep this night tucked
    In my memory with the other one
    That we watched the stars dance.

    The horizon was out there
    The trees along the once
    Great Savannah River…
    Looked like black lace
    Against the sky.
    I told him a story
    I once wrote
    About the night I saw the stars dance,
    And like that night…
    All was at peace
    Within me…
    As we rode back home…
    Thankful for those moments
    Of perfection,
    And how
    I love this nephew
    Who loved to watch-
    The night sky with me.

    I read once something my father wrote…
    When he lived in tents
    While his father was on the chain gang…
    He slept with the supplies alone,
    And at night he pulled his blankets
    Out so that he could watch the stars…
    It is how we all are alike…
    Even though we are different.

    In the morning,
    I will see a new a new stone
    On which I need to step,
    And to what horizon
    I am to go…
    Is yet to me unknown,
    But for this night,
    I will rest in the comfort
    Of watching a moon eclipse
    And turn blood red
    Wrapped in the peace of the night.

    Mary Elizabeth Todd
    May 16, 2022

      • Bill, I write lots of poems about the night… this one I wrote five years ago….

        One Star I saw…

        I looked out upon the sky tonight.
        I saw a wealth of stars.
        Each way I turned they were flung-
        Buoys in the dark satin heavens…
        Sometimes black…
        Sometimes blue…
        There on the earthy field was flanked
        The tops of trees
        Black lace against the night sky
        With the shadow of earthly light
        Gleaming through the lace
        A promise that even this night would end.

        One Star, I saw above the trees,
        Seemed to flicker as if its time was ending.
        The beams radiate from a forever place
        To travel to where I stood.
        Enlightened by the fact
        The star I am seeing
        May have died eons ago, and
        Its life connected to me
        In this moment of its life
        To marvel that in this space and time,
        We are both bound
        By time and space, and
        Unlike eternity
        We are not forever;
        There is an end to us.
        Here I stood outside
        Looking out into the atmosphere
        At stars, and one star I saw
        Had shared its beauty in beams
        That will fade,
        To this heart that needed to witness
        The loveliness it shared
        As it sent out its last light.

        Mary Elizabeth Todd
        May 11, 2017

        • This moving piece recalls for me the time it takes for light from the stars to reach Earth. It may be indeed the “last light” we are seeing, in some of those cases.

      • thank you… i will treasure this… he talked to me of his life ending…. and i drank in the memories of this night to keep always with me.

  15. Here as Well as There

    Mountains shaggy against the sky
    white peaks still shouldering snow
    and beneath the snow blue slides
    down into the pine and cedar scrub

    I drive on watching the flash of sun
    every crystal shimmering like signal flares
    calling beckoning the horizon on fire
    and then the sun shifts ever so slightly

    and I know then it’s only clouds
    no, not only, but sheer majesty and power
    what builds on the horizon tumbling
    rising frothing with all their water vapor

    holding this ethereal light that allows
    me to believe just for a moment
    that the Rockies rise in the east and
    that the air is thinning with altitude

    and that I’ve driven to the very edge
    of what truly rises to the west and
    holds my heart along with the eagle
    soaring skyward here as well as there.

  16. The Horizons of Life

    Kept looking
    Out there for the answers
    But I got answers
    Still out there on the horizons

    The horizon
    Is still beyond me.

    I sat down one a boulder
    Of a problem
    Until it dissolved.

    The life horizons
    Are there
    Just to keep me going.

    One day
    I will be done,
    For I will have reached my horizon.
    All my questions
    Will have their answers.

    Mary Elizabeth Todd
    May 18, 2022

  17. The turning of the page…

    Last night
    I realized
    That this year
    On one day,
    I will have lived
    Half my life
    With Da living and
    Half my life
    With him gone.

    After that day,
    There will always be
    More days
    That I have lived
    Without him.

    When I was small,
    Da would say
    That my age was
    One third the age of my brother,
    And in a couple of years,
    I would be half his age.
    I never got the math,
    But I liked
    That he figured out
    Our lives
    In math equations.
    For he loved math,
    And he loved us.

    The horizon
    In the rear-view mirror
    Has been a struggle
    Since he died.
    We all had to learn
    To live our lives without him.
    The view ahead
    Is foggy,
    But
    I am hopeful
    That when needed
    It will be clear.

    Da was a poet,
    A storyteller, engineer,
    Mathematician, and
    Student of nature.
    The pages he wrote
    On yellow legal pads
    Are finished,
    And his book is closed.

    Mine is still open,
    And I am turning a page-
    A math equation this year.
    There will be a moment
    Where half my life,
    He was alive, and
    Half my life he wasn’t.
    I live on
    Beyond the poet storyteller
    That I have missed,
    And
    I still love.

    Mary Elizabeth Todd
    May 18, 2022 and edited May 19, 2022

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