At the parking lot

it was only
a split second--

                                 his eyes, blackest of nights,
                                 unexpectedly piercing as spring's afternoon heat-

                                 & my eyes, frailed by days 
                                 of hobbling from sprained right ankle, waiting-

locked across the
space, empty of cars--

                                 he glowered, fallen warrior on the ground, 
                                 flexing skin, silky sable against the hard cement - 

                                 & i, in the car, massaging my leg, wondering      
                                 when I can walk without a limp-

then in a
flash--

                                 he took off, an arrow surging after his prey, 
                                 undeterred, a ferocious hunter once again --

                                 i gaze at the eagle, his wingspan carving the sky, bluer 
                                 than before, & lifted by his flight, i start the car into the road--



Posted for OpenLinkNight - D'verse Poets Pub - hosted by Brian Miller

my plea

Photo credit:   L. Diane Wolfe

let me 

fall like dew drop

on your skin, stained of sun -

then carry me, weighed of gold, in 

your palm-

Posted for Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Mini-challenge
and Poets United

Poetry form:  cinquain - 5 lines following 2-4-6-8-2 syllables 

The march of a caterpillar

photo art credit:   leovi

each cell limbers,
stretching across the green expanse- 
           chew, grind, chew--  

leaf by leaf, 
crown, tail, limb of tree, 
           chump, swallow, chump--

oak foliage is
my bed, night after night
           shedding skin, shedding

colors, spiny bristles
moving along like spongy train-  
          evade, wiggle, evade-- 

sting of hungry
predators anxious for a repast- 
         crawl, curl, crawl--

into the crevice,   
where silky threads cocoon me -
         wet wings wobble 

as clouds spin  
faster than fallen leaves, bug-bitten, 
         suckled dry, slug-defiled--

this dark womb- 
i'll soon fly, remembering nothing: 
         earthly chaff & toil--  

but the sweep 
of wind on my face, 
         sun-colored & dazzling--  

Posted for:  D'verse Poets Pub:   Poetics:  through the lens - Hosted by Brian Miller

Updated:   Here is wonderful response to my poem from M ~  Thank you ~

http://grapeling.wordpress.com/2013/05/25/caterpillar-after-everyday-amazing/


Poetry form:  3-5-3 word Collom lune 

An inventory

the dappled sun striking the glazed platter 

the tang of lemon rind in the glass of water 

a basin full of vegetables to be shucked at the corner

i breathe to a slower pace

reeling in the habit to roll up my chef's sleeves

and turn the fire high under the skillet in the kitchen 

i have come to collect my things-

my spices & wok & knife, as i limp on my crutch, shoeless- 

it hurt when i was accused of being a malingerer-   

we are not made to work like machines

with barcodes on our wrists

with labels stamped on our faces at every shift - 

i hold on to my marrow -  

i am hardy as a sparrow

not an old shoe to be discarded, though i learned the hard way- 

just another inventory-

Posted for Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Word List by Karin Gustafson

and Poetry Jam - Story of a shoe 

Based on the recent experience of my second son, who is training to be a chef.   After fracturing his ankle, his new employer gave him the walking papers, disregarding his initial good work record.   He was off for almost two weeks, but since he was on probation, he was summarily dismissed.   He is currently working in another restaurant and set to study (again) in a chef school by September.   

picture from:  tumbler.com

For the children

Centennial Flame

Ottawa, Ontario 05/19/2013

Let the children gather the warmth  
         from flames wrought of war-torn nights-  

Let their innocent smiles & joy 
         heal the anger and walls that divide us- 

Where we have come from,
         are stamped on our faces & skin of different hues-       

But we have journeyed here, 
         at a great cost, foregoing own kin & history-     

Where we build anew - seeding the ground with water-   
         embracing the common & similar ties, blessed are our children.   

Grace @Everyday Amazing

The Parliament, Ottawa City

~ Happy Victoria Day to my fellow Canadians ~  

Posted for Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - OpenLinkNight - Thanks for the visit ~

Pink blooms

Grace @ Everyday Amazing

pink blooms

bursting like waves

upon the cold spring breeze

garlands weave, casting aside leaves
 and modesty, like sassy show troupers-   
painting the sky iridescent- 

i drink in your beauty

-swift as sunset-

pink blooms

Posted for Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Sunday Mini-challenge - Rictameter
This is 9 line poem with the following rhyme scheme - 2-4-6-8-10-8-6-4-2 and the first and last lines are the same.   

Fleeting as cherry blossoms

Cherry tree by Grace @ Everyday Amazing

your  pink   beauty

     - fleeting   as    spring    butterflies-

                pierces     and     awes- 

even  the wind rushes

     to      inhale      your       ripe       blossoms,  

                 fragrant     and         alluring -   

but the sun  
      is    quicker    to    steal     you    away-    
                 soon,      petals    fall    in   quick-silver   hush -         



fading   your   last    kiss 

      -   soft     as    melting     snow -
                      lingering      hard      on      my      throat        

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - OpenLinkNight - Thanks for the visit ~  Sadly, all the blooms from the Japanese trees are gone ~  

Violet blooms

drink this cup

steeped of violet blooms, soothing  
 heart's bitter aches      

Legends of Violets


take these blooms-

hued of rain and spring love- 

yours to keep - 

Petunia Surfina Violets

Grace @ Everyday Amazing

Posted for Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Violets

~ Wishing you all Happy Mother's Day ~

A prelude

The mid day heat is intoxicating

As bright colored banners wave   

From streets posts, playing tag with children, 
Unrestrained in their merriment as elders begin their tales-    

The best plates are piled neatly on the table,

Laden with smoked-cured meat, rice-rolled sweets,

Coconut- stirred vegetables, seasoned milk fish & ripe papayas 

He boasts proudly to his grown children, I can eat anything-

Outside the bees gather & swoop down  

Bougainvillea vines, buzzing, oblivious to ruckus of   

Flies swarming over pitted seeds & chicken bones-

The anticipation of the feast is palpable in the air-     

    

Posted for Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Kerry's Challenge - The Prelude 

and Poetry Jam - Buzz on Bees

Prelude 

1. (noun) An introductory performance, event, or action preceding a more important one; a preliminary or preface.

Picture credit:   here

m(a)ystery of the woman

the night labels you a man-eating monster,
supernatural creature who eats fetus 
with a long tongue, shapeshifter-
half-woman and half-animal,   
dismembered torso, wings black as a devil-
hunted and shunned-
a witch !

            chants, by white-collared friars with heavy rosaries-
            gossips, by greedy male traders with western swagger-  
            they all lie in wait to shackle you to a box, plain & mute-  
            until you feel ashamed of your virile nakedness - breasts,  
            face, legs, you cover everything in modesty, 
            veiled, hidden, tempered steel, 
            a diminished star.
             
but don't you remember - 
you were worshipped like the sun - a goddess:
fertile, propagating & naming children, like mother nature
you were the pact holder, mediator of the tribe,
the healer, believing in the power of cure in leaves & fruits-
you fought for your rights & freedom-
now, wake up & wear your skin, 
your words have magic,  you are 
a queen ! 

Gabriela Silang 

First woman general who fought against the Spanish invaders

in the 18th century.

Posted for:   D'verse Poets Pub - Poetics - Myths 

I watched this interesting documentary by a Canadian on a popular Asian myth of vampire folklore in the Philippines.   I was struck with the idea that native women rebelled against the tight structure of Spanish Catholic religion and way of life.   In the early centuries, native women were powerful priestess, rulers and well respected guardians in the tribal community.                                                    

Manananggal

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2ePhqoyLpXQ

On(c)e - the rain forest

Amazon's poison frog 

here, the sky is my ceiling-  
mountains feed me
while the rain quenches my thirst-

the medicine man knows the
healing powers of each leaf
& roots in this forest-

which is always birthing,
crackling, rustling of wet wings, 
hiss, scuttle and rush of feet across the floor- 

here, i soak the spirit of the old trees
with wide bellies and broad limbs,
inhale the fresh air, heal the weary eyes....   

do you hear that ?
the grinding teeth-
pulling roots, breaking limbs, ripping of lungs- 

until there is only the deadly 
silence -  


Posted for Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Transforming Friday
and Poetry Jam - Soak

More information on the disappearing rain forest:   here