Thursday, August 11, 2022



fallowed yellow, you're the autumn

i sink into, blur lake bottom

your tarot hands are cool blue

soothing my butterflies coup

you tell me, i'll be okay 

moon fever will pass like whey

fallowed yellow, you're the autumn

i sink into, blur lake bottom

Posted for dVerse Poets pub - Poetry form is Octelle.  Join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.

The Octelle, created by Emily Romano, is a poem consisting of eight lines using personification and symbolism in a telling manner. The syllable count structure for this verse is 8, 8, 7, 7, 7, 7, 8, 8, and the rhyme scheme is aa/bb/cc/aa. The first two lines and the last two lines are identical.

Tuesday, August 2, 2022

In August


red is the torrid skin

bare to the summer sun

flesh turns beet red & tomato plump

hips swaying to the outdoor music festival

tongue devours the cool ice & wine, sweet

as peaches, plums and strawberries

golden yellow, dark velvet, earthly brown-

we celebrate ripeness in all its colors & spices


red is the torrid sky

scorching the grass to dry pale paper

burning the borreal forest to ash & soot

the sky is smoking darkness during the day

the smell of destruction is invasive 

as gypsy moths, all that was vibrant and tall

are now burnt by growing wildfire in an instant

the charred soil is a reminder that death

stamps, entwining with life's abundance

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Poetics, Sometimes August isn't recognized, hosted by Sanaa Rizvi.  Join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.     During the summer months here in Canada (July to August), we get wildfires in the forests. It is a total destruction of homes and communities.  

Thursday, July 28, 2022

Time in a Loop

 I lean into the summer light

With a whiff of yesterday's song

Heat was sweltering, our palms sweaty 

Figuring out where's the exit, under all the confetti

Confetti strips on my lashes, 

Lashes wet from rain, weight of blues

Blues polished under the silver moon

Moon is grand but a stoic muse

I gave him nothing to reel & relish

All our memories crashed in the hard drive - perished

All my poems tossed in the black sand

We figured out that peace comes with heavy strands

Strands of shadows & rough greys

Greys in rainbows after the quick storms

Storm of hail lulls, with the burst of afternoon sun 

Sunroom, where it all started like a dream

We now wander in circles, ever widening

Our calendars out of sync, tides are running

In a knot of missed hitches, time is a loop 

You and I mirror, yesterday in a swoop

Note:  This is a variation of Loop Poetry.  The other ones are:

I.   Summertime in Ontario

Yesterday’s cold dusted in a blink

Blink, and the minute turns

Turns to long hour, my eyes

Eyes the clock, sun burns

Morning air is humid, crackles

Crackles turn to birdsongs

Birdsongs break the crisp hum, hush

Hush! where’s the rain, so far along

Evening paints a peach cooler time

Time is patient as sugar maple trees

Trees so vibrant green, summer is a toast

Toast to begonias, blue sky, buzzing bees!

II.  Weekdays in a blur

Monday {yawns} opens the door to Tuesday

Tuesday rushes in, fluffs the pillows for Wednesday

Wednesday offers ice wine & hot gossip to Thursday

Thursday laps it all up, in cruise control, awaiting Friday

Friday is in a pink party mood, dancing until early Saturday

Saturday is in no hurry, lounging in pajamas until Sunday

Sunday is <lost>in book & clouds, forgetting time & Monday

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Loop Poetry.   Join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST and try your hand in loop poetry.  There are 3 variations of loop poetry and I have shown all 3 here.  Thanks for your visits and comments.   


1. Stanzas, writers choice on the number, no rhyming, the last word, first word scheme is maintained.

2. One long stanza, no limit on number of lines, no rhyming scheme, the last word, first word scheme is maintained.

3. Couplets mixed with 4 line stanzas, the last word, first word scheme is maintained in the stanzas. It can also be used in the couplets. Rhyme scheme is ab, cc, defg, hh, ii, jklm, nn, oo.

Tuesday, July 19, 2022

a fraction of infinity

in a bunch

a fraction of the skin

of yellow bananas

turns speckling brown spots

ripening in haste,

multiplying in shades

darkening over the days in platter

as freckles on my cheeks

(visible patterns)

tiny as spiralling dots

(not as wild as sunflower seeds)

as crow's feet & wrinkles under my eyes

(growing webbed lines, creased by wind-)

burn under summer sun

(infinity plays in my mind)

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Poetics - Fractuals, hosted by Lisa Fox.  My post was inspired by looking at the bananas, which is ripening so fast in summer.

Thanks for your comments and visits.

Thursday, July 14, 2022

The gift came with instructions


She gave us a gift in box: packets of seeds

Bearing various shapes - bird's feet, fish's eyes, clouds, bones

Holding the promise of fruits from caring deeds

We took the storms, thoughtless insults and sharp stones

That came our way. Instead we made maps, beads

of peace, stories from forests, lakes and pine cones-

Our one voice echoed with other voices

Our two hands multiplied with calm choices 

What we could not imagine, happens:   kindness

Rooting, growing, removing our blindness

Spreading from home to home, this gift that binds us

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Eleventh Power (and More) - The poetry form that I have selected has the following elements:

  1. stanzaic, written in any number of 11 line stanzas.
  2. syllabic, 11 syllables each.
  3. rhymed, rhyme scheme: abababccddd or ababababccc.

There is also an option of a List Poem in an 11 line stanza.  Join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.  Thanks for the visits and comments.

Tuesday, July 12, 2022

Late for breakfast


“Never love a wild thing…If you let yourself love a wild thing. You’ll end up looking at the sky.” ― Truman Capote, Breakfast at Tiffany’s and Three Stories

she's artless

allowing the sun to smear 

her skin of dew and blue wildflowers

her shoulders are a soft bed to lean

your weary head to

her hands are tender tendrils

but once she holds on to a rock or tree

they are resilient, strong as rope

during autumn her face is a work of art

fading & wrinkled lines, silver threads,

orange-brown speckles, the golden hours

of conversations are short but meaningful

we say our goodbyes with warmth of steeped tea - 

cozy, not clinging so tight, but letting

go easily as breeze, carefree as blue sky

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub:   Breakfast at Tiffany's, hosted by Linda Lee Lyberg.  I chose this quote as an inspiration and epigram for my poem.  Join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.

Monday, July 11, 2022

seeds for a successful harvest


a fruit from seed 
sun-warm & greening from fresh rain 

you nurture it everyday
with fervor of busy bees
each nod & nudge
celebration of small steps -

one small leaf
one flower blossoming
each tendril binding 
to core of it all:

mother earth

Growing cucumber, herbs & other vegetables on my balcony

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Quadrille, Let's Celebrate, hosted by Merril D. Smith.  This is a 44 word post with the chosen word, Celebrate.   Happy 11th anniversary dVerse!!!!!  On a personal note, my attitude towards celebration is the same with gardening - small steps towards a goal is worthy of a celebration.

Thank you for the support, visits and comments.   

Tuesday, June 21, 2022

a letter (to myself)

so you have dropped 

your shield 

of plastic of red and blue

& timid fists 

running away from the loud-mouths

in the playground

it was more pathetic in school

when no one wanted to play 

with you during recess time


speaking with a different tongue

growing up in a different part of the country

to them, you were a strange, foreign sounding girl

who hid in the library & empty classrooms-

a wild flower, with easily-trampled upon


that time is done

i tell you now, that time will pass

like tides

people & events change all the time, 

what you didn't know was that

every insult & hurtful words

toughened your skin and gritted your teeth

as you grew up 

as an adult 

as a mother of your village

your voicebox became stronger 


you pick positive thoughts & vase them

on your table

you fly your flags & keep your boundaries

some days, you wish you are holding that

small shield - plastic of red and blue -

as if it was an amulet, armor or a sword

but then you remind yourself,

you've have made a shield over time-

its called self-love



it's a river, all flowing 

within you

Posted for dVerse Poets pub - Handling Peer Pressure, hosted by Sanaa Rizvi.  The idea came to me when we gifted my grandson a plastic Captain America shield.   He was very happy to get it like it was a powerful real shield.   For myself, I am now able to handle any peer pressure.  It comes with time & a lot of experiences.  Thanks for your visits and comments.  

Just a note that dVerse will be going on a 2 week summer break and that we will be back on July 11.   

Thursday, June 16, 2022

History Lessons

This land has a history

Of pretenders who crown themselves


Of tax people who believe

that gold currency is thicker than blood

Of ruthless charlatans

who proclaim -

follow my words and ask no questions 

This land has a history

Of idealist students & artists who said

honesty is the best policy

Of street protesters who

were arrested, silenced and killed

Of mothers whose children

were banished to reform schools

and returned with Samson-cut hair

A birth name is forgotten

A native tongue is lost

A folk song is never played

An umbilical cord to earth has been

forever severed

Who does this land belong to?

There is bounty for all 

Forests, seeds, fruits, flowers, lakes

But the puppetiers and despots

have changed the script

and rewritten history to suit the fate lines

on their palms

I write to you

young people of this land:

hear the sadness of matriarch elephants

listen to the loneliness of ancient trees

take heed of the whale song from the sea

all that glitters is not gold

Heed my warning:  

Those who do not learn from history

are doomed to repeat it*

*Quote from George Santayana

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Meeting the Bar with guest host, Anna Montgomery.  Fall seven times, stand up eight where we explore aphorisms, myth, and fables by writing our own gnomic poetry. I have used maxims and aphorism in my poem.   

Tuesday, June 14, 2022

An invite to a party


Each guest will bring
A poetry book to read
To a garden party
Brimming with roses & tomatoes
Smell of peonies, spice of citrus

We will listen to each guest
Read the words
Of dead poets
Of living poets
Their own poems in draft format
It does not matter

This is not a euology
But a banquet of imagery & paradox 
Amidst tea cups and wine glasses
A valley grows with pear & apple trees
A cloud storm erupts with sunflower seeds
A lake shimmers with bluest of blues
We voice each spoken word with vibrancy
of buzzing bees

We will each have our turn 
with word salad, 
soup of alliterations,
and generous helpings of hyperbole
then, we will enjoy the dessert of 
exquisite haiku from Basho and Issa

Then each guest will select a book
from my bookshelves
or exchange poetry books with each other
To bring to their home
What a fun merry-go-round of books it will be!
The books will outlast us
At 6pm, the party will end
No goodbyes will be said
Only see you at the next one

On the way out, each guest
will receive  
thank you note with
my unfinished poem:

Twilight glows vivid violet & red-orange
A certain butterfly is already on the wing.”

  • A certain butterfly is already on the wing.” Vladimir Nabokov

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Words of Departure, Hosted by Laura Bloomsbury.  Join us when the virtual pub doors open at 3pm EST.   Thank you.