Saturday, December 29, 2012

Wrapped for winter

Grace @ Everyday Amazing

during the night, 
you wrapped me
in burlap fabric & staked   
my thin bark against the pole  

frost has fallen on delicate roots
but surrounded by mulch of bark
and shredded leaves, my seeds
burrow under moss blanket -

inevitable drift of snow, 
and silence of birds 
& squirrels in the wind chill - 
these do not not grieve me anymore -

winter bears its own gifts -
unique points & full of possibilities  
& i (am) grateful(ly) turn-   

on my left side, i get 
ready for long & deep sleep -

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Change and Turns - Winter in my part of the world means small & delicate trees being covered by burlap fabric to protect against frost. 

Friday, December 28, 2012

One golden afternoon

gold and lilac  
wafts and pillars an old man's face --
ethereal sky  


Picture credit:   Reena of Missing Moments


the afternoon,
unwrapped burlap, 
shimmers like gold coins under the sun 

Posted for Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - A Word with Laurie 
Haiku My Heart
and Haiku Heights - New ~   HAPPY NEW YEAR ~

Thursday, December 27, 2012

of Christmas cards

                                                              Grace @ Everyday Amazing 

Dec. 21, 2012

you sit daintily on top of office shelf
cocooned in mittens, scarves and boots
in someone else's cube, you hang like
falling pine tree in mid-flight, pinned
on sides & belly, without leaves & blooms

you throw snow pines, wet of colors -
red, pink, green & teal on walls
warming the office,  grey
and dusty of statistics & files
which do not bother you one bit

for under the rectangular lights,
handwritten words leap
like burnt logs on cold winter day,  
re-writing the cliches of printed lines

giving pause -
and for a moment, I pause too -

Dec. 27, 2012

you fold neatly into white card
creased tight in bright bows & bells
burrowed with messages & smiles
to last you for the next 360 days  

empty wrappers & tags are filed for trash
new files & numbers are going up the board
the office hum is now a familiar refrain
quite different from festive carols but
these sounds do not faze you one bit

you had a front seat view to all
the merrymaking & good wishes,
cakes & chocolates passed around 
like carousel & even by Santa Claus himself -  

I index you under Cheers
a reminder of all things warm & lined with hope

Grace @ Everyday Amazing

Posted for:   D'verse Poets Pub - Post-modern experimental - hosted by Anna Montgomery.
This is a snapshot of two working days - before and after Christmas.   

I went to work today and decided to clear my office of Christmas stuff.  I don't  throw away the cards though but file them in my drawer.      

Tuesday, December 25, 2012

On Christmas day

Grace @ Everyday Amazing

snow finally came like white dust -
soft as goose feathers in silk duvet

two books, box of chocolates, black bag,
clothes & opened gift bags are neatly piled -

late breakfast & lunch of left-over home-baked food,
wine & cake are prepared on festive tablecloth -

if we play the video of what happened at midnight,
we will see 5 shadowy images amidst laughter - details

escape us but for carefree conversations, fun card games,  
skyping relatives, sharing our blessings together -  

fragile & precious threads, we weave another
Christmas of following family tradition -

warmer, finer than goose feathers in silk duvet 

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - OpenLinkNight - Merry Christmas & Happy Holidays to you ~ 

Friday, December 21, 2012

For peace

winter's eve --  
i light a small candle 
to hymn of children's choir


scent of roses
on beaded prayers --
a silent moment

Grace @ Everyday Amazing


a snowflake falls --
the morning blooms 
like white poinsettias 

Posted for Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Peace on Earth
Haiku My Heart  and Haiku Heights - Snow

Wishing you Happy Holidays, Blessed Christmas and Joyful New Year ~  

Thursday, December 20, 2012

The silent sky

Grace @ Everyday Amazing

we walk in shadowy cold night
even in city's bright street lights
holding wounded faith close, we cast
nets, searching for answers we've asked

a million times, we're diminished 
by each senseless death & tarnished 
innocence.  we plead as we cast
nets for answers we've always asked

for understanding & peace, love 
to lift our hearts like morning doves, 
kindling hope amidst silence - vast    
sky, we search for answers we've asked   

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Kyrielle -  Poetry form is written in rhyming couplets, with the last line as a refrain.   

I am still grieving I must admit as I watch and listen  to debates on US gun control laws.  But I don't believe that more guns is the answer.  I am relieved that in Canada our gun laws are very strict.    

Thanks for the visit & have a wonderful day ~  I hope to write happier posts starting with my haiku tomorrow ~

Monday, December 17, 2012

Second thoughts

Artist:   Lily Higgins

This is part of the doll poem series for Margaret Bednar's daughter and classmates who stitched these wonderful creations ~ My first one is here and for this second one, I have written a short story ~  Thank you for the inspiration ~ 


the journey to the witch haggler's home   
was long and perilous of white sharks and eels  

blue deep water was colder than i thought
and the squids were faster with their ink defense

i am unlike my cousin, the giant octopus 
who is content with waiting & holding hands to mate -- 

ambitious, i want to make money of trade secrets --
when danger lurks, my nerve poison is most potent  

i am told the black sac fetches a fortune & i dream 
of living in pearly castle and not eating crabby food -- 

but all throughout the weedy & slimy journey  
i pine for my solitary rock bed & holes to curl into  

away from the rock lobster with big creepy eyes
and claws targeting my bagful ass

good thing, my skin color is versatile as sand shifting - 
i can look pale as a shell or sultry vamp if i want to --

at cove's edge, i hear the witch crackling,
limbs eager to suck me dry, witless & predictably tame 

i hesitate & contemplate my choices  - i do have them - 
while admiring my lavender hair & eight tentacles-- they are 

definitely deadlier than just two,  i inhale deeply 
and remember the power of life and death in my hands --

thrill of hunt and escape, learning colors & textures,
gift of re-growing damaged arms, embracing my shadows--

i change my mind, and head for sunnier Pacific Sea
who says i got no backbone ? 

Posted for OpenLinkNight and Sunday's Challenge of Real Toads -
I have already posted a poem based on Friday's tragic event in my haiku on Friday.  For this OLN, I have decided to write something light and fun for a change, to balance my (and others) emotional well-being who is (are) suffering second-hand trauma & stress from all the bad news over the weekend.   Thanks for the visit ~ 

Saturday, December 15, 2012

Where my thoughts are

not inside the office cubicle 
of cream & dull blue squares,
two metal drawers that grate  
like heaving train on rail tracks --

not on laminated table
my cheap plastic pen and highlighter 
scratching the file paper in neat circles
& lining details i can't missed  as
fingers click & tap black keyboard --

i wonder of seeds & potted thoughts  --
do they shoot up straight or go in pinwheel circles 
or hang fragile on telephone wire, disconnected from 
the main roots, crisscrossing fine lines  
between adequacy & coping-- 

claim reports show mental illness
& depression tops the list of drugs
of working men & women  -- i pencil 
a line between insanity versus sanity --

as mine are nesting between recycled sheets, 
unfinished verses tuck in leather handbag &  
waiting in draft folder in laptop, labelled
personal life, threads and pieces flying 

outside the clear office windows,
where endless lines of cars and trucks zoom 
in staccato echoes in city streets, long & 
winding towards the lake, a dot in dusty skyline

at 4:00 pm, time to drive for home,
i gather my winter coat & look for my thoughts -- 
they settle on my shoes,

the color of industrial carpet

Posted for:  D'verse Poets Pub - Sweat the Small Stuff ~ hosted by Brian Miller 
Shared with Poets United - Poetry Pantry
Thanks for the visit ~ 

Friday, December 14, 2012

Hopes for the land

snow melts
prairie of amber & fiery ash--
charred,  roots awaken    

(Wiki Photograph of Pulsatilla patens growing in Boulder, Colorado.)


sun pulses
the grassland in sepia and and emptiness--
hope blooms in blues


(due to recent news in USA)

blood-inked stains 
on broken blue & pink crayons -- 
the barren sky weeps     


and Haiku Heights and Haiku My Heart - Wishes for peace and love ~

Thursday, December 13, 2012

The teacher

you dust flour and sugar on table kitchen,   
with energetic wave from pea-knotted hands    
short grey hair curls your delicate face,
youthful even in widow’s clothes

today is the last day in your modest city home   
you are saddened by thoughts of new owners
moving in by New Year --
but you’re practical you said, moving to a smaller town   
to pursue simple joys & life long goal -
teaching young teens and adults,
mostly students who can’t afford college
or  next month’s rent — but your free courses:
basics of cooking and baking in your kitchen 

filled with jars, spice bottles & baking trays.   

you turn to look at dozen cherry-smooth cheeks –
chocolate-streaked aprons and oven mitts ready—
like a conductor in orchestra stand, you lift  the spatula
and begin sharing more than just printed recipes    

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub  - Voice of the second person ~ My aunt is an inspiration for this post.   Please feel free to offer critique for my development.  Thanks ~

Saturday, December 8, 2012

Morning weekends

Grace@Everyday Amazing

the morning is dull grey,
lightly hued by evening rain --
maple trees are bare of leaves,
cold breeze nips as squirrels run about -- 
(what a depressing weather, no color in the sky)     

inside the kitchen,
i stir the pre-mixed pancake with water
in the bowl, a breakfast treat for my teen daughter -
"Please Mom" line always gets me  --
(my little girl needs me still, i don't mind really)

butter quickly melts in the pan,
as i carefully scoop the mixture and chocolate chips,
beside me, my older son is cutting and paring
carrots, mushrooms, tomatoes, and spices on wooden board --
(that board is heavy and covers a lot of kitchen space) 

"Mom, please don't use my stuff when you are cooking meat,"   
and I say, "Of course,"  because I don't want to step into his space - 
tiny but hard-fought  and precious in the last year - 
(these young adults need their own space, no meat please)   --
soon the aroma of Italian sauce for his brunch
sizzles in his saucepan, waffling with
my crispy buttered pancakes --

our differences, his choices versus mine, fold under
warmth of our conversation -- light and carefree --
"How about I prepare this sauce for Christmas eve?", he offers.
(i am really looking forward to a peaceful holiday)  
I smile, pouring more syrup on my pancakes 
sweeter, just the way i like them.  

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Acting, Poetry and The First Person Narrative
Shared with Poets United
Thanks for the visit ~      

Haiku Heights - Pain

maple tree, 
bare of leaves and children's voices,   
listens as the bell tolls  

     Grace @ Everyday Amazing


the night stings-
hornets swarming the sky- 
 empty of your blooms

Posted for Haiku Heights - Pain 

Tuesday, December 4, 2012

At the bake sale

Amaretto Apple Muffins

apple and blueberry pies, 
cookies, fruit cups and rum cakes
-          fresh and warm  -
greeted our cheeks,
tempting us to part with dollars
hard-earned in the city graying with unemployed
and homeless sleeping in park benches at night.

ears buzzed from protests of teachers, 
we bit into sweet concoctions:
chocolates, walnuts, topped with strawberries.
on foam plates, we mulled failings and promises,   
-          broken and cold -
then washed it down with steaming coffee. 
smiling ladies in power suits hovered near
sharp-eyed professionals in another day but today :
runners, activists in this charity bake sale.
quickly  dollars filled the bottle labeled : 
-          Daily Bread Food Bank   -

Update:  I am pleased to announce that this poem is included in the second Issue of Nain Rouge, January 2013 

Posted for OpenLinkNight of D'verse Poets Pub - I wrote this post during autumn after participating in our company's fund raising events.  I have come to appreciate that behind the business suits and urbane clothes are men and women with compassion.  Giving and sharing is not just for one season but the whole year.  

This is also one of my poems I submitted for Nain Rouge's 2013 first quarter's publication.  I got word from the editor last week that they will use at least one of my poems.   My thanks for the support and encouragement of Brian Miller.   

Saturday, December 1, 2012


white veined hands 
tear the lilac sky into pieces - 
thousand candles fell


Late Night Nebraska Thunderstorms


her eyes --
blooms  of darkest violet -- 
kept secrets  

Haiku Heights:  Storm

picture credit:   here

Monday, November 26, 2012

Not your ordinary doll

 Doll by Bailey Powell

over the years
my porcelain cheeks
dented with tears and anxiety -
my long and waxy hair
tangled with leaves and mildew-

my limbs became tentacles
of different swatches
from my journey –
polka dots and squares
orange and purple strips
circles of blue and pink --

stitched my voice unique,
embracing the wholeness of me-
a fabric of color and striking patterns

full of
knots, twists, holes but mostly dreams -  
And all because I chose

Posted for:   OpenLinkNight of Imaginary Garden for Real Toads (Monday)
and D'verse Poets Pub (Tuesday)

Backgrounder of doll:  I, Margaret Bednar, am hosting with a little help from my daughter and her fellow classmates.  They were given an assignment to create dolls that reflect a part of who they are. They spent close to six weeks hand stitching and creating the backdrops for these gorgeous works of art.

Thanks for the visit ~

Friday, November 23, 2012


Namib Desert by Bernhard Edmaier

above eagle eyes, 
the desert stretches and weaves -
empty burlap sack 


fire-streaked sands
follow the wind-swept sky -
fine as silk-stitched blooms


once lush and ample
of fruits and blooms, she sleeps -
weary old woman

Picture credit:   here

Monday, November 19, 2012

The aftermath

   © Tornado Tree by Isadora Gruye

My limbs are bare of palm leaves and fruits
The wind has tore them from my hands  
Violently, without warning -- fruits
from labor hands, slipped from my hands
Splitting grey belly,   scattering seeds 
In soil, dry of grief and repast, blooms break 
The sky grieves the empty blooms and seeds
But I am not broken --    I will not break !


The autumn tempest has ripped me bare

Of roof and sun colors but sheets -
Thin, hardly veiling gaping walls,  bare 
Of  sheets, I stood, amid pale sheets
Brown eyes searched the blue skies for answers
Brutal is the wrath of the bitter wind
I listened for answers...        one answer 
... Only the clouds pulsed, flailing in the wind   

                                                            @ Terry of Mobuisfaith

Poetry form:   An eight line poem by William Butler Yeats.  
Line 1: 9 syllables (a)
Line 2: 8 syllables (b)
Line 3: 9 syllables (a)
Line 4: 8 syllables (b)
Line 5: 9 syllables (c)
Line 6: 10 syllables (d)
Line 7: 9 syllables (c)
Line 8: 10 syllables (d)

Posted for:   OpenLinkNight of Imaginary Garden with Real Toads (every Monday)
and D'verse Poets Pub (every Tuesday) ~  Thanks for the visit ~ 

Friday, November 16, 2012


red maple tree
with leaves fiery and shaped of tears,  
silently she mourns  


pine tree 
coated with ivory and midnight moon,  
restless is her sleep


cherry blooms 
on a parasol of forest green -
spring in her step


willow tree
bowing in a dance courtyard - 
boldly she leaps   

Saturday, November 10, 2012

Making peace

Grace @ Everyday Amazing

yesterday morning
i yielded to blue mountains --
   cold and muddy trail 
   of jagged stones and fallen leaves 

i let the tree branches support
   my tired limbs
   and ragged breathing footsteps--
   one careful measure at a time

and at last 
   i was rewarded 
   with an exhilarating view
   of nature's beauty,  fresh and unguarded --
   a calming peace to urban-weary eyes 

this early morning,
   i yielded to embracing  
   my son and kissing his cheek,  
   as he stood by kitchen sink 
   an idealist,
   an angry young man at the business world,
   his choices versus mine
   are now clashing like water and dirty oil --
   and frankly I don't know how to handle
   this suddenly-grown up adult, but to accept
   that he is growing into his own 
   unique person   
i was rewarded
   with his smile and understanding nod --
   it was better than the stony silence of indifference
   and bitter words during the last days
there are many things i don't yield to -
  challenges, negativity and setbacks
but today, 
i yield to peace -- 
        trusting its fruits and rewards --
        like calm journey of rushing stream,
        like strong trees on cold mountains
in our home,
where it should all begin

Posted for :   D'verse Poets Pub  - Making Peace with Poetics - The first part deals with my adventure yesterday at Blue Mountains where we had our office conference.   The second part deals with my changing relationship with my second child.  What a timely topic.   Thanks for the visit ~

Friday, November 9, 2012

Silent forest

morning light
sparkles the rushing river --
restless feet on unmarked trail  


maple trees bow
in silent prayer as  
black scarred leaves float by 


hush of pine forests
with first blush of winter frost -- 
face of bride in lace  


forest trees heave
in sigh of fading footsteps -- 
white silence is music  

Posted for Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Transforming Fridays with Hannah Gosselin
and Haiku Heights:  Silence ~  I just came from Blue Mountains where we had our office conference.   There was light snow on the trees and mountains.  And I survived a tough mountain hike/climb this morning ~   Whew ~  Have a good weekend ~  
Also for Haiku My Heart
picture credit:  here

Saturday, November 3, 2012

The storm

flash of lightning
as winds flee in haste -  
tempest of woman scorned  


pouring rain 
sharp pointed as knives -    
oak trees fall in surrender

stormy skies: 
mighty wrecking ball, 
yet fleeting as blue butterflies 

Posted for Haiku Heights - nature 

picture credit:   here