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. 

One golden afternoon

gold and lilac  

wafts and pillars an old man's face --

ethereal sky  

~0~0~



Picture credit:   Reena of Missing Moments

~0~0~

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 ~

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.      

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 ~ 

For peace

winter's eve --  

i light a small candle 

to hymn of children's choir

~0~0~

scent of roses

on beaded prayers --

a silent moment

Grace @ Everyday Amazing

~0~0~

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 ~  

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 ~

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 ~ 

 ~0~0~0~  

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 ~ 

Where my thoughts are

Picture credit:   Hilary

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 ~ 

Hopes for the land

snow melts

prairie of amber & fiery ash--

charred,  roots awaken    

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

~0~0~

sun pulses

the grassland in sepia and and emptiness--

hope blooms in blues

~0~0~

(due to recent news in USA)

blood-inked stains 

on broken blue & pink crayons -- 

the barren sky weeps     

~0~0~

Posted for Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Transforming Fridays

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

The teacher

Food for the Gods

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 ~

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

~0~0~

the night stings-

hornets swarming the sky- 

 empty of your blooms

Posted for Haiku Heights - Pain 

At the bake sale

Amaretto Apple Muffins

Gloria of Canela's Kitchen

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.   

Storm

white veined hands 

tear the lilac sky into pieces - 

thousand candles fell

~0~0~

Late Night Nebraska Thunderstorms

~0~0~

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

Haiku Heights:  Storm

picture credit:   here