Thursday, July 30, 2015

While waiting to die

Her weakened voice's a half whisper
But she's got eagle's eyes- 
Each day, her accounting fingers  
labelled, folded, parceled, incised

All her worldly possessions- clothes
Piled neatly by seasons
Shoes, boxed along with bags & hats,
Jewels--not for grievance-- 

She's a rose, darkly burnt,  ashes
Smoldering of last fire
Her body hears death's baritone
Yet she's busy- here, there - 



                                               Photography by Ars Thanea



Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Emily's Not So Common Meter (Emily Dickinson), Hosted by Victoria C. Slotto
and Poets United - Acceptance

I have learned that my daughter in law's 89 year old grandmother has been giving away her things and properties, upon learning that she is in the last stage of cancer.

Tuesday, July 28, 2015

Moving on, In tune with nature



Photography by Joni Niemelä


A black raven nosedives from top branches 
A bird preening its red-silk feathers
A squirrel stirring tree's deep pockets
A cluster of green pine cones unveiling
A velvet ball of floating milkweed pods 
A spider climbing potted vase's neck
A pink tongue of leashed dog
A fire-ant's steady march up the boulder
A butterfly's quickening leaps above lilacs 
A flowering of late afternoon
As sun tucks in billowing skirts of clouds
Sky dusts away the jet's white smoke arc 
Unfolding the waxing gibbous moon 
Altering the worn-brown cityscape
I begin a new canvas 
As I watch the night's calm arrival 
nourished with mystery



Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Poetics- In tune with Nature

Tuesday, July 21, 2015

Two trains, two worlds

I commute to the city, considered the hub
of financial world, by riding the Toronto rocket 
Its metallic hiss
long spine measuring 6 cars, fully opened
rapidly follows the tracks
Cool, clean & modern
with computer generated lights & voice over
Commuters carry gadgets, phones & games
All polite & courteous
Though once in a while, a shirtless man
breaks the chained monotony
& dances carefree as
blue butterfly

The lake beside tower
shimmers blue of summer -
Swans burst, pure of light









Back in the old town, the train
is a workhorse
piping wearily along mud-tracks
You ride along with
boxes of produce (rice & vegetables)
animals in cages (pigs & chickens to be slaughtered)
baskets of fresh fish & shells
It is noisy
Smelling of sweat & musky earth
Dirt seeps into your skin  
& you pray that it will not break down
before your destination.

Sun browns your face
while palm trees keep snatching 
to play with your straw hat 



Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Trains Hosted by Bill
Picture credit:   here

Sunday, July 19, 2015

Of grace & poise

She moves effortlessly
as a flower
bright orange red
with petal cups holding 
rain water & dew
bearing a thousand seed pods
to be carried away by wind, 
birds & bats.   

She balances each day
with children
with household chores
with nature's remedies
with a crown lighter than
basket of food on her head.




 

                                   Mayan Indian woman carrying basket on her head  by Robert Crum
Picture credit:   here


Posted for Imaginary Garden for Real Toads - Goodness Gracious, hosted by Karin G.
& Poets United - Thanks for the visit ~

Thursday, July 16, 2015

My philosophy of thoughts



Artist:   James R. Eads

I carefully tuck in a box
the heirlooms of my grandmother
& mother:
South sea pearl brooch
& words of wisdom:  
Invest in education,
& work hard

Moon is a pied piper, calling dreams awake & follow his music.

I believe in positive thoughts
& attracting enriching events
& life-embracing experiences
while accepting my fears
& disappointments

My hands are potter's hands, shaping clay to cups, cups to pots, pots to urns.       

I am mindful of my thoughts
where they drift
like fallen autumn leaves
where they pool & sink
on dead end street
where they echo & resound 
the future that is yet to be

Black raven swoops her hungry claws on dead baby bird, balled white as pearl.  


Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - What is your philosophy?  

Thanks for the visit ~

Tuesday, July 14, 2015

What I found after more than halfway on my journey



Artist:  Cecilia Levy


I love the tropical sun on my arms,
ice-cream & walking to be alone with my thoughts-

Restless water under the bridge folds & refolds the face of the moon.

I line up the words in my head, neatly stacked-

Catapult, sting, deadly intentions- which one will jump first off the wall?    

I am a needle, finding my thread & safety hooks 
      & beads of blessings

Cup is half-full, awaiting for this girl's heart, to turn it upside down.  

But look closer, I am a thread unfurling 
      I am a sapling rising, fingers wet with summer rain -

      


My Word List:   sun, ice-cream, bridge, cup is half-full, words,  rain

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub -  Sharing a bit of myself ~ Thanks to Marina for hosting ~

Thanks for the visit ~

Sunday, July 12, 2015

Flower

Stones
at our feet

Time is the black milk 
we drink 
morning
noon 
& night

Our skin hammers 
hard walls 
seeking water &
adding petals

Sun flares
bloody red, hot oilseeds
on ground

One blindman's word above leaded sky:

flower




Picture credit:    here


Posted for the Imaginary Garden for Real Toads - Featuring the work by Paul Celan.   The post is inspired by his poem, Flower.
and Poets United - Thanks for the visit ~

Thursday, June 25, 2015

Flashback to 10 summers ago

To island of my mother
if you call me daughter
with the sing-song lilt of sugar fields
I will gladly call you
home, and hand out red leis
when the time is right

The rice cakes were sticky, plump with goat cheese, filling my mouth with summer. 

Otherwise leave me drowsy 
among maple leaves
lush & green in summertime
I walk in circles
around trimmed city park
filled with blooms for tourists

The ten boxes & luggage were not enough, I wanted to bring the sea with me.   

I never left you motherland
I hand you this poem
pearly white as sand bars
in exchange 
for my tired bones
& wintered tongue

My father's eyes were damp with good-bye tears, but it was our summer of beginnings.






Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Flashbacks, hosted by Bjorn Rudberg ~
Today is the first day we landed in Canada as immigrants, 10 years ago ~   

Thanks for the visit ~

Tuesday, June 23, 2015

Monsoon

rain, rain
you unfurl fingers, thicker than rose thorns

striking fear
at our core as you bleed profusely

filling all our cracks
with your wet tongue, pouring your perfume

at our emptiness
you sweep away

dirt in our feet, in our lips
filthy words, the garbage we harbor deep

tear down, not our frail houses
but our bronze monuments

green us
with teeming lake & pink-feathered birds

echo in our ears
the war drums as we keel under the wind's savagery

rain, rain
pouring out from darkness  


goddess of life 
save us 

 



Picture credit:   Here

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Monsoon hosted by Abhra ~  Having grown up in the tropical country where monsoon rains were too much & destroyed much of our land and properties, I wish for  some rain, not a lot of it.    Thanks for the visit ~

Sunday, June 21, 2015

Mirror, mirror

you are the polished
glass
my eyes mend
everyday
lush  
red lipstick
carefully drawn
over delicate wrinkles   

your edges are
stitched
with precision
while mine  
wallows
damp with shallow 
rain
& flaws with each
sharp thunder clap

i wince
under your bright
harsh light but
once the moon lingers
his fingers on your oval frame
you are ivory window
opening
you are third-eye needle
piercing 

beneath the milky 
layers,
a face
waiting to be unmasked-

   


Credit to  Brooke Shaden

Posted for Imaginary garden for Real Toads - Ode to Quotidian Hosted by Karin
and Poets United - Thanks for the visit ~