Saturday, January 31, 2015

Searching for lavender





I search for words sweet as pink tulips 
fragrant lush from fields of lavender
their colors blossoming under summer sun
weaving calming spell of quiet lake
But alas
I am standing, squashed sideways, like
a fish
caught by early morning pandemonium 
hardly breathing, as trains stalled in tracks
Outside, winter snow piles on and on-





Posted for Imaginary Garden for Real Toads - 
Transforming Friday with Hannah- Lavender and 55 Words following Robert Herrick word stanza
Shared with Poets United ~

Notes:   Last Thursday morning, my train commute took an hour longer as trains were delayed due to emergency services ~ Normally it's just a bearable 30 minute ride ~  
Have a good weekend ~

Tuesday, January 27, 2015

Winter wishes

Northern wind, ice crystals, seeds of darkness            
Circle our lips with gold, bright as sunflowers
Our hair grows white, buried under furs & pelts
Northern wind, ice crystals, seeds of darkness           
Drift by quickly, our hands are teal with frost
Watching night sky slow dance with balding moon

      ~0~0~



strand by strand 
feathers & hair entwine for a lass 
     more than a wig, a face to raise her voice:
     begone from whitening my limbs, 
     fever & scourge, begone ! 
     


Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Two "hair" poems ~ hosted by Anthony Desmond ~

Picture credit:   here

Thursday, January 22, 2015

Umbra

At night, she wakes up caught in red threads, forgetting 
where, who she is, as sky dissolves. 


In the mirror
Two faces of moon stare back
Mercury rises
Flock of geese has arrived
Who bounded her heart to garnet stone? 


The sea swallowed her garden of carnations, tea-
cups, even her words, in one gulp.  



Notes:    There is a form called haibun which is a combination of prose with haiku.             For this writing exercise, I combined American Sentence (20 syllables, structured into two lines instead of one straight line) with Tanka (unstructured with a total of 31  syllables).   

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Hosted by Brian Miller ~  We are writing and breaking poetry forms!


Falling Apart by


Wednesday, January 21, 2015

Always in fashion


I never wear hats
nor dull colors black & grey
Summer fashions my dress
Red bold & flaming stripes
And lo, I am crowned- queen of season!



Stripes
Photography:   Totomai Martinez 


Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - We are getting inspired by Totomai Martinez photography
And Poets United -  Mid-week Motif - Fashion

Thanks for the visit ~

Tuesday, January 20, 2015

Sayuri-san


Behind bamboo wall 
She powders her cheeks white
As wooden clogs bound her feet 
How she dreams to be a bird
not a doll with cursed red lips 




Photography by Totomai Martinez






Photography by Totomai Martinez


What lies beneath your wintered eyes
Are you hiding a jewel, black as pain
From a hundred lashes of an errant word?  

What secrets guard your wide gold sleeves
when night comes spinning out of orbit?
Has bitterness tinged your blood to rust?

Here is the spark & grit of desire
Or would a venom of revenge be fair game?
Once, your laughter was raven’s delight
As you bargain with harvest moon for its tales-     

Rise & dispel this silence of ghostly chant –
This dearth of burning fire & biting moths-
Press your red lips against the stone
Unbound your robe & step into light   




Posted for D'verse poets Pub - We are writing to the muse of Totomai Martinez photography.   thanks for the visit ~


Sunday, January 18, 2015

The city of forgotten bones


Photography by my daughter, Sofia



Subway train rifles through the tunnels
A single bullet rapidly teething the underground
Metal circuits chug against excavated stone walls.

They gathered bones -
a tribe wrapped in beaver furs
 I mourn the lost seeds

The city is running ads & news every minute
to a million booted feet to & fro the stations 
Cameras snap blurring faces with silver tokens.


Only red maple trees heard
the wind's murmuring of


Posted for Imaginary Garden for Real Toads - In Other Words hosted by Kerry
and Poets United - Thanks for the visit ~

Notes from BlogTO:   Human remains
To demolition workers in 1956, Taber Hill at Lawrence and Bellamy in Scarborough looked like a natural landform. It wasn't until construction crews tasked with removing it discovered human remains that its true origin was revealed. After archaeological examination it was discovered that Taber Hill is a Iroquois First Nations burial mound, containing some 472 bodies (buried in the mound between 1250). As part of the traditional Feast of the Dead ritual, the deceased were interred elsewhere and later gathered at Taber Hill.
Happily, Taber Hill was saved from demolition and is now a recognized burial ground.

Sunday, January 11, 2015

Alchemy of night



Photography:   Kylli Sparre


The night descends
like a chorus of black birds-

Their throats silk
of velvet
and fever
of silver and murmurings.

The night seeds
burning tar streaks
on your hand.

What shadows clamor
is sulfur, melting language 
to blood-red liquid

Here, then, is the night,
its skin
stripped bare,
on your palm, blue flame.


Posted for Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Inspired by David Huerta's Fruit as translated by Mark Schafer & Poets United - Thanks for the visit ~

Thursday, January 8, 2015

Gratitude


 Source:   Page 115, The Modern Prometheus

Love,

have a care-

Work this passion

                   of its excess

Return a hundred fold:  peace

Demand 

gratification

small as acorns

                   & berries

My companion will be content

with the same fare -

Our bed of dried leaves

                    & the sun 

ripen(ing) our food-


This is the result of blackout poetry process.   The original is a page from The Modern Prometheus.





Posted for:   D'verse Poet Pub - Blackout poetry, hosted by Bjorn Rudberg

and Poetry Jam - One word for 2015:   hosted by Alan ~  Mine is Gratitude.


Tuesday, January 6, 2015

D Base of blank words




D Base
By artist Nick Gentry


this lead is heavy on my tongue
it blanks my words

stored in magnetic strips where
the music & people of 80s still lives on

my chest sags from stagnant air
& my memories get foggy by

synthetic plastic warping my eyes  -
how i wish for a chemical peel to make me

new- smaller &
sleeker as memory card

of 21st century, a young working girl
again madly dashing through the crowd

but being an old woman
sitting by desk filled with obsolete gadgets


has its merits:
i am stamped with past, an absolute tyrant

& framed by nostalgia
& relief that no one expects me to be anything else


perhaps one day, i'll be thrown on the moon
to fix my constant eyes over the city


muddy from overflowing artefacts
soiled by hundred car lights racing to find an 

empty space


Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Poetics Featuring the work of London-based artist, Nick Gentry ~

Sunday, January 4, 2015

Moving on



She knots two garbage bags containing clothes and letters and puts them on the road curb.  

Putting on her helmet, she revs the bike's engine.    Black birds skitter above street wires.  
Soon, the wind is whipping static from her hair.    

Sky is dusky grey but all she sees is night, awakening sleek as a panther.



~0~0~0~


Shoe box is full of letters
frail as ancient tree
with sleeping flowers

I pluck to read one
remembering why I kept it
But the words fold into
themselves

barely moving 
an empty boat
shadowed by lake pines

Throwing the box away
I watch by window

As wind spits its seeds
and whitens the sky- 



Posted for Imaginary Garden for Real Toads - Flash 55 Plus - 55 Words in fiction and poem
and Poets United - Thanks for the visit ~

Photo credit:  Tumblr