of awakening

spring is upon us-
suddenly, tiny green buds
drench the garden, fragrant & new -

but this is not a tender season,
as seeds wrestle against the complacent soil
& stale cold air, there are cuts to the fingers-

bruises on the knees, bumps on the sides-
scars, long and deep, forever altering the face
but great is the desire to take first breath, pure & raw

rising against gravity, colliding with the wind, 
tearing away from its bed,  sharply, violently, 
an awakening  -    

Klaas Fidom of Zoom

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - OpenLinkNight - starting Tuesday at 3pm EST ~  Thanks for the visit ~

the day commute

Reena of Missing Moments

i wake up.  third alarm.
eat cereals and milk.  pack a meal.  
tidy the kitchen.   catch the bus.  same corner seat. 
  
drop coins for the subway train.   down the metal steps.
find a seat.  listen to the grating of wheels.  spitting of sands.   
gnashing of teeth along the worn city tracks.   

office grinds.  smelling of coffee & bagel.  a day old.
i sit on weary chair.   listen to papers shuffle.   wires tripping themselves.             
ink of printers & fax machines.   swallowing the minutes.        

there is a blankness.  
swimming through my veins. polluting the liver. 
clogging the nose. sharpening each paper cut on my fingers.   

i wonder where this tunnel ends.
and begins.   to another journey.  unedited & unrestrained.     
click. tick. click.  snap back into the frame.

third alarm.  i wake up.    


Posted for D'verse Poets - Poetics:  Trip the Poem - Hosted by Karin Gustafson.  We are having a gorgeous weekend.  Spring is finally here ~

The last night of the full moon

Klaas Fidom of Zoom

the cold wind sweeps the night sky     like a clock with callous hands-
          undaunted, the last rose blooms      flaunting skin, ripe and hungry-  
                  i am not ready to say goodbye       the moon, sated, edges to dawn's death 



Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Sijo poem - 3 lines (14-14-18)  - total must be between 
44-46 syllables 
And Real Toads - Hello/Good-bye 

Structure of the sijo poem:
Lines 1 and 2 are written in four phrases of syllables counted as follows: 3 - 4 || 3 - 4 with a major pause at the end of the line (i.e. no enjambment) and a total of 14 syllables per line.

Line 3 is also written in four phrases of syllables counted: 3 - 6 || 4 - 3 to a total of 16 syllables.

Some leeway is allowed within this structure but the end result should be between 44 and 46 syllables.

Special thanks to Showers of Roses

April's madness

Grace @ Everyday Amazing

i am caught- 
in the tug of war,
between winter's gray
and spring's budding steps-

this month is madness, 
twining of beginnings & endings-
red as birthday candles on a cake,    
white as a corsage on a friend's funeral-  

my hands are frayed, 
fragile like bare twigs- 
fearful of the hardening that comes
with each fallen leaf, torn limb & broken pinecone-

i pray for rain to wash away dread & shadows,
the sun to melt away the stones 
gathering in my heart- 
even if snowflakes 
drift this morning, i hope 

for spring to burst open like a river,
greening the garden, trodden down & bloodless cold-   


Posed for:   D'verse Poets Pub - Poetics of spring - We are having a little bit of snow this weekend.  
and Imaginary Garden for Real Toads - Encouragement

One sunny afternoon

The White Boat by Joaquin Sorolla (1905)

white boat 
tugs the children:   
let us sail to the sea-- 
treasures await us.  the sky calls-  
bluest

of clouds,
cradling waters
warmed by shells, weeds & crabs-  
buoying the children on its womb,
they're off--



Posted for Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Sunday Challenge:  Joaquin Sorolla
and Poets United
Poetry form:  cinqauin (2-4-6-8-2 syllabic count) 

The monsters

Are under my bed,  
                    curled tight every night-
behind cereal boxes, 
                    shoved deep in the closet- 
on top of shelves, 
                    just beyond my books- 


They are always noisy,
                   growling loud as 
hungry pangs in my stomach, 
                   angrily stomping the floor,
as if wretched with waiting-
                   slow burning of calories- 


Refusing to melt away, 
                   they chatter about tight 
jeans & hot bikini pieces.   
                   One day, I look hard 
in the mirror:  double chin, big arms, fat legs-    
                   a girl, who can't face her monsters- 

Image from Tumblr - Whydoes-Nobody-Understand 

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub:   Poetics - Monsters - Hosted by Brian Miller - I came across this image in Tumblr and it saddened me to read the blog of a young woman who hates herself and her body.   

A street poem

I walk on the street,
the sky is caught between grey &
faint blue pages-

It is mid-April, 
the city stores are selling spring 
colored shoes & clothes,

I imagine would be great
if I am going to Italy or Jamaica
for week of summer fun & escape 

But I am working this summer
and saving money for a college plan-
As I trudge & sit in the red bus 

I start thinking of lines to write - 
-Where the sea meets my toes, like an inkwell- 
-Where a narrow road leads to a Gothic tower-  

But they all end up with this orange,  round & firm 
in my hand.   So, I peel it slowly like a book.  
It tasted sweet, like the sun.      

Toronto City

Picture credit:   here

Posted for:   Imaginary Garden of Real Toads - Inspired by writings of Billy Collins - Accessible Poetry 

Playing havoc

Art by Chelsea Bednar

Stress, layered thick--
time, blurred, falling like bricks, 
enclosing on me--


My mind coils and recoils
like hammering nails,
refusing to stop-- stop, STOP!


Escape from depression,
Where are my pills?   
Pull this madness- away, AWAY!


I put the canvas aside,
and start all over -
this bloodletting ritual


I can't let go.



Posted for Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Artistic Interpretations with Margaret

Author's Note:   I attended a session yesterday on Drugs/Health Management and I was aghast on the extent the pharmaceutical companies have partnered with doctors to prescribed brand and expensive drugs to "treat" depression & diseases for patients.     

The speaker who worked for the pharmaceutical company and then move to our insurance industry said, "There is no solid evidence that our mind is chemically unbalanced."  Let us address the stress and start eating and living a normal healthy life, free from dependency on drugs.   You can read more here.   

Blooming

                                                             

                                                 you once stuffed  coins &

                                                 colored stones, gems you

                                                 said, in your pockets--

                                                 but today, as I  red-letter

                                                 the ice cream strawberry 

                                                 cheese-cake and light it 

                                                 with   bright   candles-  

                                                                                      

                                                 I  see  a  blooming  rose, 

                                                 priceless gem in our eyes -

                                                         

Grace @ Everyday Amazing

Happy Special day to my youngest~ 

*Thanks so much for all the birthday greetings!*

Posted for:   Poets United - Colored & Poetry Jam - What's In Your Pocket

into another world

Grace @ Everyday Amazing

Running 

into the woods - 

pine cones crunch, twigs snap, leaves- 

a soft carpet, a bird trills and -

  I'm lost-

Wordsworth Quote:

“Books! tis a dull and endless strife:
Come, hear the woodland linnet,
How sweet his music! on my life,
There's more of wisdom in it.” 
― William Wordsworth, Wordsworth: Poems

Posted for:   Imaginary Garden for Real Toads - A birthday in April - and Going Outside
and Poetry Pantry
Poetry form:   Cinquain (2-4-6-8-2 syllabic count)

Squeak NOT a protest

the g-r-o-a-n-i-n-g 
was so LOUD, 
an old man 
yoked by his burden, 
grasping for a/i/r-

i will do something about it,
hubby said

the next morning, after setting 
the clothes to dry, i {wait}  
for the sounds-- 
hum~drum~hum~drum~hum~
a mild protest
akin to the wind, wearily blowing 
dry the soggy fields--

i ask my hubby what he did,
knowing his knack for youtube search-
how:to:repair:anything?:

well, i had a conversation w/ 
the dryer--

he began-
i already fiXed the water pipe,



then with a [gentle]   
kick on its side-



do NOT give me any #problems !!!

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Anecdote -Hosted by Kelvin S.M.  

Happy Weekend ~ Thanks for the visit ~ 
  

To crucify your mind

Detroit singer Sixto Rodriguez's sweet voice and socially conscious lyrics made him a legend in apartheid-era South Africa. This photo appears on the cover of his second album, Coming from Reality (1971).

I was born for a purpose - 
    to mock your words & actions
Narrow framed, a circus of white lies -   
    I thrust this light, causing a chain reaction  
You could not find my carcass 
    Nor my guitar to silence the attraction
My music rose in the streets & old churches 
    To tell a gospel truth, freedom, my soul's passion-  

Posted for:   Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Thanks to Marian for introducing his music to us  ~ Shared with Poets United:   First Verse - Body
Picture credit:   here

about this job

Grace @ Everyday Amazing

Toronto City

the irony

of having a job in the big city

is that you are always thinking of escape-

beyond the shiny walls of mailboxes & files,

above the clutter of cubicles, chairs & black wires-

to rise like soapy bubbles from

rinsing dirty cups and teaspoons in the kitchen sink-

to drift like maple leaves, brown & careless  

in the wind, as you drive along the busy freeway-

people peer at windows, hungry for the open sky

they talk about beginnings - vacations in sunny

shores & retiring in the cottage, by the blue lake - 

eagerly counting the day they fly away from this

everyday grind of bread & debts -   a pipe-dream    

as we cleave to our desks, like grateful worker bees,  

meekly eating the piece of the lemon pie,

swallowing down fears that at anytime, one of us

can be crumpled away, like a grease-balled 

sandwich wrapper-    

Posted for:   D'verse Poets Pub

Poetry on Keningston pole

                                                   

Art in Public, Toronto City 

String the words 
pinned on the pole - poetry  
on the go -

Sky, storm, airport -   
art is everywhere, inhale, exhale -     
love, an Oxygen -
  

Posted for Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - OpenLinkNight - 
Poetry form:   Lune - 3/5/3 words per line