Sunday, April 29, 2012

Zest for new journeys

zest for new journeys
begins with seeding each day,
a verse, joyful thoughts

a verse, joyful thoughts
spread white wings on morning coast,
ready for new day 

ready for new day,
sun, wind, stormy days, grey clouds,
fly the horizon

fly the horizon
with keen eyes and eager hands, 
zest for new journeys

Posted for Haiku Heights:    Zest - My prompt for this challenge.

This is Day 30 of the National Poetry Writing Month.   Thank you to all my blogger friends and new friends at Haiku Heights for the wonderful comments and smiles.   

Picture credit:    Reena of Missing Moments

Saturday, April 28, 2012


                                                                                  © Mama Zen Photography

yellow blooms
golden, vibrant spring,
dotted muse


make me forget the 
bitter wind


rays of sun
caught by spider's silk,   
spiral gems      

Posted for:   Imaginary Garden with Real Toads :   Mama Zen Photography
and Haiku Heights:  Sunflower.    This is part of the National Poetry Writing Month.

Friday, April 27, 2012


serene lake
soothing weary eyes,
unturned page


green eyed buds
lifting face to sky,
new spring day


mountain air
calming ashen cheeks,
sunset view

Posted for Haiku Heights:   Clarity
shared with Haiku My Heart
This is part of the National Poetry Writing Month.

Picture credit:  here

Thursday, April 26, 2012


beautiful petals
blooming bright as golden sun, 
i linger to hold


field of sunflowers
waving banners and drum beats, 
i linger to dance


the back of her knees,
creamy as white magnolias,
i linger to touch 

Posted for Haiku Heights:   Temptation

This is part of the National Writing Poetry Month

Picture credit:   here

Wednesday, April 25, 2012


guitar strings
missing in the street,
broken note   


piano keys
untuned, grating nails,
empty room


child's laughter,
concert melody,
sounds of joy

Haiku Heights:   Melody 

This is part of the National Poetry Writing Month

picture credit:   here

Tuesday, April 24, 2012


to hold on
or let go to fly,
choice, not fate 


last two leaves 
cling to branch, waiting  
howling wind   


black or white,
kismet rolls the dice,  
ride the wave 

Posted for Haiku Heights:   Kismet

This is part of the National Poetry Writing Month.

Picture credit:  here

Monday, April 23, 2012


heads closer,
eyes closing in bliss,
simple joys 


simple joys
sharing one journey,
a lifetime


a lifetime
sunrise and sunset,   
move closer

Posted for Haiku Heights:   Bliss

This is part of the National Poetry Writing Month.

Picture credit:   here

Sunday, April 22, 2012

Blush of Pink

white and pink petals
painting the sky in spring's blush,  
mesmerizing view


verdant field
pink and white blossoms,  
new clothes:   spring


your pink hands
dainty as a rose,
steals my heart

This is part of the National Writing Poetry Month.

Picture credit:   Reena from Missing Moments 

Saturday, April 21, 2012

The obligation to have none

My daughter smiles
Her braces, with green and violet bands,
Remind me of my obligations 

My all-weather-car tires  
As I accelerate in my grocery run 
Remind me of my payments

My room of clothes, unpacked
My sink of dishes, unwashed
My tax papers, unfiled 

Awaiting duties and obligations, 
All crowd me to a zombie, half alive,   
Between pay days and installments

My son comes to me with a hot tea,
He is leaving soon to see his client,  
Another one needing his clear eyes and calm hands

He has found his answer while
Sleeping on the wooden floor, 
Rejecting urban myth for eastern thoughts;  

Completeness of self, not fullness of trivialities 

A simple life        

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub:   Poetics: Duty call

My son, upon graduating with a chemical engineering in college, decided he wanted to pursue a new career, a whole new life style.   He rejected the university route to get his license and a large student loan, to work at restaurants and health store to pursue Yoga Training.    He is also a vegetarian and lives a minimalist life.  This happened in the last year.   


still as wind,
tree murmurs softly,
last heartbeat


he takes the clean brush
painting canvas full of life,
art, still his first love


her black eyes
stilled his hopes for love,
white blossoms wilted

Posted for Haiku Heights:   Still
This is part of the National Poetry Writing Month

picture credit:  In Tandem by Jinksy

Friday, April 20, 2012


is finding your old bike works,  
when your car breaks down


regard your blessings
like smooth pearls of the necklace,
luck is in your hands   


silver coins,
fruits of hard labor,
blessed day

Someone receives a promotion, gets an important assignment, makes a major discovery, or moves into the president's office. ''He's lucky,'' an envious person remarks. ''He gets the breaks; they're always in his favor.'' In reality, luck or the breaks of life had little or nothing to do with it. So-called ''luck'' usually is found at the exact point where preparation meets opportunity. For a time, an individual may get ahead by ''pull,'' but eventually someone with push will displace him. Success is not due to a fortuitous concourse of stars at our birth, but to a steady trail of sparks from the grindstone of hard work each day. Kenneth Hildebrand

Posted for Haiku Heights:   Serendipity  
and Haiku My Heart

Picture credit:  here

Thursday, April 19, 2012

Woman's Face

mother's face
always beautiful,
to child's eyes 


daughter's face,
promise of woman,
father's fears


a woman in love, 
no alterations needed,
fresh as a daisy

"Men look at themselves in mirrors.  Women look for themselves. " ~Elissa Melamed

Posted for Poetry Jam:   Face The Facts
and Haiku Heights:   Renovation

Quote soure

Picture source

Wednesday, April 18, 2012

Piano Festival

It was held in the 19th century church in the upscale neighborhood. A medium sized church with a black grand piano up the small stage, was the center piece of the festival.   When we first signed up for this competition, I imagined a more festive atmosphere, not the somber and stiff columns at the sides of the church.   The ominous mood silenced the gay chatter of young children and teens testing their piano skills in the competition.

A charming lady adjudicator smoothly presided over  each one hour session for 10 candidates.   This is my 13 year old daughter 3rd piano recital, and she calmly sits in the front pew, the 9th    candidate in the Grade 3 skill level.    She has grown over the last months, and  she towers amongst the candidates, specially boys still in their pre-teen stage.   She has practiced, like all the children, the same piece for the last month or two, under the eye of her piano teacher.

The first boy was called to play, and he was impressive and confident from the initial strains of the piece.   My daughter would later tell me, she knew her chance of winning the first spot was not so good compared to the first boy.  He has set the bar very high.

The second boy was called to play, and unlike the other candidates, he held on to his music book.   He adjusted his thick rimmed glasses, and within the next seconds, we knew he was struggling with the piece.   But he never glanced at the audience composed only of parents and or guardians.   He labored with each key, as one would every tortured breath, going back a few notes if he missed it, slowly and painstakingly until he finished the piece.   No one said anything and I noticed the adjudicator not taking notes as she would normally as she gives a detailed critique at the end of the session.   She was listening, as was everyone, to every note like it was an angel playing to the golden crowns of the saints and wooden cross in the altar.

What took the 2nd boy so long to play, the third candidate finished the piece in no time.  So did all the other candidates as was expected in this festival.   Smooth and perfect notes.    At least from the audience point of view.  If we could, we would probably give a gold medal for all the children, specially the 2nd boy, for getting up there and completing the piece. 

My daughter’s performance was good but not good enough to win any medals.  Nothing like a contest to spur her competitive spirit and hunger for recognition outside the family.   She would get 2nd place the week after for another round of competition, but not this time.   We always tell her to do her best, and leave it to her to set her level and pace.     

We just want her to have a good time with the festival. I don't lecture to her on what she needs to do.   She saw the tremendous effort displayed by the 2nd boy, a special child.    No pressure, no monetary reward from us.    Except for fish and chips meal after the festival.

Written for Imperfect Prose.   This is my first time to join you ~   Nice to meet you ~


pink and white blossoms
turn into almonds by bees,
nature's gardener


yellow honeybees
spreading joy in almond trees,
busy gardener

An estimated 1.3 million honey bee colonies nestled in almond orchards are primed to pollinate an estimated 740,000-plus acres of bearing tree blooms. It is an annual rite and picturesque sight in California agriculture and a major precursor to the success or failure of the almond crop.

The demand for honey bee colonies is larger than ever before. Bees are necessary to pollinate almond blossoms, and other crops including blueberries, cherries, and alfalfa seed. Bearing almond acreage in California has increased from 510,000 acres a decade ago to the current 740,000 acre level.

Posted for Haiku Heights:   honeybees

This is part of the National Poetry Writing Month.
picture credit:   here

Tuesday, April 17, 2012


white long dress
soft floral bouquet,
rice seedlings


ashen face
white fear on her eyes,
loud siren


white pages
inviting words, thoughts,
busy pen

Posted for Haiku Heights:   White

This is part of the National Poetry Writing Month

picture credit:   here

Monday, April 16, 2012


calm water
anchored boat awaits,
new journey


sun slowly rising
spraying colours in canvas,
wonder of new day


child's laughter
ringing in hallway,
bell of joy

This is part of the National Poetry Writing Month.

Picture credit:   Reena of Missing Moments

Sunday, April 15, 2012

Being alive

our eyes
seek a piece of sun,
open panes


our ears,
thrill to stormy winds,
open arms  


our lips 
hunger for sea salt,
 open sky  

Posted for Haiku Heights:   Being :  Poetry form 3-5-3 syllables
And Imaginary Garden with Real Toads:   Photography by Susie Clevenger

Saturday, April 14, 2012

On life's blessings

each morning, 
I count my blessings:
sun, wind, night 


ink from my black pen
rise like bubbles in my wine,
spicy tale of life       


words cut out from page,
foam with salty bitterness,
birthing a novel


each evening,
I count my blessings:
moon, stars,day

Poetry form:   3-5-3 and 5-7-5 syllables

Friday, April 13, 2012


light halo
monk's face in prayer,
plum blooms fall


aura of darkness
circles well in the desert,
vulture picks on bones


spark of light
positive thoughts, seeds
bloom to sky

Thursday, April 12, 2012

Haibun: Empty

She works in the far end cubicle away from laughter and noise.   

Lips pinched tight, arms crossed, she eats her lunch, 
either sandwich or beef patty, on her desk.      

She is cool to friendly gestures.  
No spontaneous embracing.  No hand contact either.   
Specially from men.   


warmth of smile fading 
remembering hurtful words,
empty wooden box   

posted for Haiku Heights:   Warmth
and Flash Friday Fiction for G-man:   tell a story in 55 words.

Poetry form:   Haibun - combines the prose and haiku. 

Wednesday, April 11, 2012


coherent thoughts rise
amidst spiralled rock garden,
gentle hush of leaves 


broken lips
incoherent words,
grey luggage


pen and paper lines 
black granite and white pebbles,
 zen inspired design 

This is part of the National Poetry Writing Month

Picture credit:    here

Tuesday, April 10, 2012


bulbs of spring
planted in winter, 
vase of blooms


thirteen pink candles
endless possibilities,
graduation gown


phrases, words,
painting floral verse,
book cover

Posted for Haiku Heights:   Possible
This is part of the National Poetry Writing Month.

picture credit:    Jinksy of In Tandem 

Monday, April 9, 2012


morning paints 
garden of tulips,
summer blooms


bright tulips
dot fields of summer,
ice cream pops  


yellow umbrella
seashore with noisy seagulls,
summer concierto 

Posted for Haiku Heights:   Summer

This is part of the National Poetry Writing Month

Picture credit:   Margaret Bednar

Sunday, April 8, 2012


conch shell on the shore
awaits waves from the ocean,
fishnets from boat falls  


stones and shells
fill the crystal vase,  
empty shore

Posted for Haiku Heights:    Prompt is Seashore
This is part of National Poetry Writing Month.

Saturday, April 7, 2012


sounds of spring,
children playing ball,
blue jay chirps


playing in the streets,
boys run with nets, chasing birds,
free as butterflies


slave of war and hate,
he holds his gun close, dreaming
blue butterfly wings

Posted for Haiku Heights - Play.    This is part of the National Poetry Writing Month.  
Picture credit:   here

Friday, April 6, 2012


turn a cheek
forgiving others,
bright lighthouse


healing comes
forgiving ourselves,
open hands 


He forgives
indifferent hearts,
gold sunrise

Posted for Haiku Heights - Forgive.   This is part of the National Poetry Writing Month.  I used the 3-5-3 syllabic count.

Picture credit:   here

Thursday, April 5, 2012

Planting rice

The water buffalo ambles beside her   
On rice fields, submerged with water
The sun burns her face lined with serenity
And arms more golden than corn ears

The paddies, she seeds with hands
Before sun rises until sunset mutes the land  
Child of the farm, daughter of the harvest,
She holds the seedlings, grains from sands

Her mother tells her she is blessed silk
By Gods, her skin neither pale like goat’s milk,
Nor dark like burnt mud sticking her soles; 
but brown, soft earth her hands sink into, her ilk

Nurture the seedlings to grow, filling bowls
Of family, whole community, including fowls,
Uniting her tribe with motherland, serenity
And prosperity, she plants rice, her soul

Posted for the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - The Oral Tradition - The planting and harvesting of rice are part of my cultural heritage.  So many tales have been told and I have shared partly a verse about it.  

and D'verse Poets Pub:  Rubaiyat Quartrains - I just learned about this form this afternoon.   Let me know how I can improve this.   

Poetry form:  An Interlocking Rubáiyát is a Persian form where the subsequent stanza rhymes its 1st, 2nd, and 4th lines with the sound at the end of the 3rd line in the stanza (Rubá’íyah) before it. In this form, the 3rd line of the final stanza is also rhymed with the 3 rhymed lines in the first stanza. There is no maximum length but the minimum is three stanzas.
picture source:  here


hope is hand
holding flower, blown
careless wind 


hope is pink seashell 
empty bed of gleaming pearls,
arms open to sea   


my hands in prayer,
his last dying breath, grieving
I light a candle

picture credit:    here