Tuesday, August 23, 2016

The Empress with Silk Clothes

I strike a coquettish pose
With my red robes & gold slippers

And thoughtfully exclaim
What fine and colorful clothes you have! 

How imposing you look.  Show them
Your beautiful clothes

Light as air, soft as feathers 
Visible only to the smart ones

You are most intelligent ruler
As I kneel before your soft belly

and puckered knees for your shoes
I marveled at your gleaming crown

as I, the empress, hum your favorite song
as you stride out into the streets, eager

to strut your expensive, branded clothes
Your vanity equals the sun's fiery show

The crowd and critics will lament & tear
their hair out

Trying hard not to stare at your torso
so they don't look unfit for the job

Your ego is intact, even after the parade,
scalloped hair gelled by pride, your knees stiff as ever

I wait faithfully with your other clothes
satiny black, snow-crusted with diamonds

And soothing your ire with tea
Placating your pain with more sugar

I, your empress,
am your mirror, another fool who wished for gold

Trimmings, who knows this:
Being naked is a hard truth, a pill I can't swallow

(I mean, I will parade naked with no clothes
if someone pays me a good amount of money) but he

My Emperor, has the balls to show them
how it is done to those ignorant folks

I feed him now with exotic fruits
in between musing the details 

of his amazing clothes
and firing those two incompetent tailors

It was their fault, you see
It was even the child's fault, crying at that

But he has got nothing on!
Everyone is blind not to marvel at these clothes.

I, your empress, nod while patting 
silk embroidered clothes

wrapping my naked ambition 
sharp as eagle's claws

Inspired by photo:   The Emperor Has No Balls, Trump Statue:  Here    This was supposed to be short but I had fun imagining the scenario.

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub- Poetical Spouses - By Guest Host, Kim.  The challenge for this week’s Poetics is to take a character, fictional or non-fictional, and re-write their story from the point of view of their husband or wife. To avoid any accusations of libel, no living people please!

Tuesday, August 16, 2016

Crashing waves & rebellion

The sound isn't sweet murmurings
It is coarse with passion
Loud, booming bass
Shrill, cawing of black birds

An alarm raised
By night watchers
A giant beam of light
By tower guards

Towards other ships
Encroaching your land & peace
Towards tyrants & traitors 
Wrecking havoc on your country

It is a roar of sea storm,
bleached by oil and chemicals
It is the heartbeats
of a million slayed elephants

for the love of earth
for the love of country
of mother towards children
erred of ways, unrepentant

It's not silent hymn of tears
But a cacophony of broken heart

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Hosted by Walter  Wojtanik, Sound of Love.   I wrote from an activist point of view having watched people demonstrations against governments, and documentary on slaying of elephants. 

Monday, August 15, 2016


Here on shelf
jar filled with small things

-mismatched, chipped, forgotten- 

Against the light
I imagine threads pulling these small
things together, like bracelet or fishing line

-lost, no more-

Sometimes, I'm them 
jarring against confined glass
until I find 

-fishhook, net of voices-

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub- Quadrille, hosted by Bjorn Rudberg.    This is a post of 44 words with the word JAR.

Thanks for the visit!

Tuesday, August 9, 2016

Breathing in Blue

A trail of black birds, along the middle, dark blue line

lift my feet above limestone cliffs
plume my wings of salty spray 
crisp my tongue to hunger,  wild
is your call, gleaming of sun's fire

bring me far away and beyond
to this blue, dazzling of infinity
open my tired eyes, from smallness 
to behold your eternal charm

not even shadows from forest 
can destroy your artless guile
you soothe our fickle shallow lives
with steady rhythm, this is you- 

breath of my heart, carved me blue
until your light, inside me, shines true

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Breathing in Blue,  Hosted by De Jackson.  Join us for all things blue when the pub opens at 3pm EST.  Thanks for your visit.

Monday, August 8, 2016

A little romance

It was the sudden click in my head, a spark of intuition in my guts. I heard it above the din of school books and chatter one sunny afternoon.  It was our first meeting but I felt a deep connection that I have not experienced with anyone.  Perhaps it was in the way he phrased his words, so eloquent, with heavy American accent.  Maybe it was the tilt of his head, or the way his eyes followed me with hidden mirth.   He made me giggly at his jokes and funny comments.   He still does, after 36 years.    

above the hushed lotus pond,
the moon is half-silver goddess
swaying to fluted wind 

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Haibun Monday,  A Little Romance - hosted by Kanzensakura.   Share with us your romantic side or moments when the pub opens at 3pm EST.   Thanks for the visit.

Tuesday, August 2, 2016

A staircase of fear

heat percolates
in grip of terror
      (no) air
      (no) breath 
      trapped stony silence
            as stomach churns 
                                       up (down)

i step back 

angling towards sea
       feet searches for solid ground 
            so near, yet so far

heights twist my guts
to this white fear
                       a quicksand
                                  i'm falling
                                         down (up) 

Acrophobia (from the Greek: ἄκρον, ákron , meaning "peak, summit, edge" and φόβος, phóbos, "fear") is an extreme or irrational fear or phobia of heights, especially when one is not particularly high up.

Written for D'verse Poets Pub- What are you afraid of?  (Fear, phobias)  Hosted by Mish. Pub opens at 3pm EST.   Thanks for the visit!

Monday, August 1, 2016


mother's worry lines
woman's dry skin

I feel girl's thumping heart
A work in progress,
still learning power of words
and fruits of imagination

My canvas:
deep roots beside moving tides
above white-cotton clouds
& tropical sun
licking the lake water 
with gusto

Me at the Scarborough Bluffs Marina over the long weekend
(My hubby thinks I'm a mermaid with legs)

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Quadrille - 44 word post, Hosted by Lillian.  We are asked to write a self-portrait.

Thanks for the visit!

Thursday, July 28, 2016

Oil Spill in the North River

A deluge of black oil killed a sparrow.
While a canada goose and great blue heron are
being treated from chemical spill.

The snow of the mountains feed me.
Wide is my mouth, awash with fish.
A strong river, I define valleys and foothills.

Sadness is the whale's echoing grunts.
Grief is eerie silence from the dying fish.  Is this
what we wish of death, a poison poured, toxic finis? 

I run alongside the prairies, yellow under 
afternoon sun.  Forests keel under my tides.
A benevolent river, I mark journeys anew.

I dig a grave until I couldn't count anymore-

A great blue heron brought in for treatment at Maidstone, Sask., near the site of a pipeline leak that spilled more than 200,000 litres of oil into the North Saskatchewan River. (Submitted by Wendy Wandler )  Source

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub- OpenLinkNight, starts at 3 pm EST.  I am your host so please come and join us with your poem.   

I read this news over the weekend and this picture struck me.   The Muskoday First Nation has declared a state of emergency.    

Tuesday, July 26, 2016

Drought poem

summer sun on my brows
sweat pours, deluge
of oppressive heat, thick
black oil, clotting
my mind to numbing rage-
words, wrinkled ash
tumbled from my cracked lips-
lost in sea-sands-


Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Drought or Deluge, hosted by Walter Wojtanik.   Having arrived from California, I was struck with the drought images of the hills and fields.

Monday, July 25, 2016

Haibun: Dog days of summer

He ignites me into an argument.   Like a firecracker waiting to explode, I give a rebuttal. Soon we are exchanging angry words over political and religious issues.   I should have held back, knowing both of us are temperamental.   He walks away with a final word.    

The late afternoon sun paints the trees with orange streaks.  A hummingbird wings above the blossoming pink buds.   A flight of birds swoon from the lack of rain in the hills.   With a cooler head, I'm back in the house washing the dishes.   He comes close, his stone-creased cheeks and white hair, so frail in the bright light.  We let peace settle like a cuddly dog, between father and daughter.

cacti bloom around
marbled fountain lady with jar,
wind-stroked by hot sands

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Haibun Monday - hosted by Kanzensakura - prompt is about hot days of summer. (Sorry had to do 2 paragraphs).  How did dog days summer affect you and these times in your life? Give me your best shot at this in a tight one paragraph haibun with a true, classical nature oriented haiku at the end (with season and cutting words).

Thanks for joining us.