Let it bleed

Let it bleed

Sculpture by Vally Nomidou

There's this woman
made of paper & cardboard

When it rains, she wrinkles
Under the sun, she is veins
pulsing of energy

She allows colors
to seep out of her 
words, skin, hair, mouth

She threads pain
with double knots
underneath her ribs

At night she sews her hands
with wires
By morning, she is fist & 
birthing

of things she
passionately believes
& endures
folding, refolding, unfolding, folding

She is content with 
distance of moon & stars,
changing sea tides, storms, thaw-
She knows what she can change
and what she can't

Her body is canvas, 
inked by earth, wind & sky.

One day I will unravel her  

light
fervor 
ardent words  

inside of me.  

And let it all bleed.

Posted for OpenLinkNight of D'verse Poets Pub - Thanks for the visit ~

Also please check out my lune poems as Personal Challenge from Michael (or grapeling) here ~  

The runner

I.

Monday morning, he rises before dawn.
In faint light, he puts on his shoes & jogging outfit.  
No cellphone, no wallet, nothing to weigh
him down as he dashes out of the door into darkness.   

The early morning run is his temple.
Rain, sun, autumn or snow, it didn't matter.  
Nirvana calls.   
The wind tussles his hair to solitude. 
There's only the hiss & crunch of
his shoes hitting dirt as he picks up momentum.    

This time is his alone.
Not husband.  Not father to two girls.
Not teacher to school.  Not a sibling nor son.
Just a soul, soaring free like black birds
vanishing above trees.

II.

She wakes up to find he has not yet returned
from his morning run.   Her eyebrows furrow for a moment.
It's not like him to be late for school.  Or for any appointment.  

Same dependable man.   Same dependable teacher.
Unvarnished like silvery hair & glasses.  
Like a school clock, he is predictable for the last 20 years. 

Facing the mirror, she notices her wrinkles & grooves.
She smooths them away, like dust.  As if her hand is
a magic wand.    As if time healed
whatever was broken, lost or simply missed.  

For a split second, she sees a young girl 
hovering as blue 
butterfly
before an older woman reappears.  

She wonders what her husband saw 
this particular morning
in the silver 
reflection.


Notes:   This is based on true story of the missing 52 year old Ontario teacher who disappeared on Jan. 12, 2014 after his morning run. Until now the police don't have a clue to his disappearance as he left his wallet & clothes.   It has been suggested that "he wanted to walked away".

Posted for Poets United - Mirrors
and D'verse Poets Pub - Thanks for the visit ~ *Your critique is appreciated*

Picture credit:   here

Bitten

I can withstand

storms, sun & wind

Bare on my back

stirring old bones to creaking

But when you found me

& burrowed your teeth

& tunneled your body

deep into my guts & liver, 

I turn red brown

suckered of sap & fruits

bitten black, scarred grey

feasted like honeycomb until I

tumble down, a king

whittled penniless by marauding bandits 

Notes:   When a tree is infested by pine beetles, the dead needles on the pine trees turn bright red. These beetles cause devastation by killing the pine trees and in the coming years, they are expected to wipe out over 80% of British Columbia's pine forest.

During our summer visit to BC last year, I was impressed with the architectural marvel of the Richmond Olympic Stadium.   The  wood ceiling is made of 1 million feet of salvaged pine beetle wood from forests of BC. The bitten wood panels made the ceiling unique & beautiful.

Grace @ Everyday Amazing

Richmond Olympic Stadium, BC

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Hosted by Bjorn -  Happy Weekend ~

Myth keeper

I hide doors 
I dye garments blue
Until
candles melt
to blackness

Ashes coil
& crown
yew trees kings

Wild is your murmuring
in cold
knuckled night

For you,
I gift my silver tongue
& red purple feathers

For you,
I keep the moon 
silent
veiled behind murky clouds

Until

you flame 
once more

glorious as phoenix  


Posted for D'verse Poets Pub 
& Imaginary Garden for Real Toads - Get Listed with Brendan - Moon Madness - Sadly I only saw the moon sporadically in pre-dawn as it was very cloudy.  

Picture  credit:    here

Looking out the Window

the clouds descend
thick & ominous
fogging the windows
grey & grainy

thick snow drapes the garden
silent & cold as empty playground
the forecast today is rain
and anything above 0 C is a cause
to celebrate (3 C today)

when i was a child living in the east,
my siblings & i often wondered how snow
felt like & we would douse powder all over ourselves
clapping & running around sun-drenched room,
which made my mom angry with all the mess

now i know it's sticky & stubborn
as gum on car sides & windows
it's soft as feathers on first blush
that soon becomes heavy as loneliness
can be

I skype my aging parents & see it's summer,
its always summer from their window -
tropical garden, blooming pink blooms
unchanged, just the way when I left home -

I tell my mom,
'you should see when snow melts
and spring buds peek from soil,
the garden is so beautiful'

I say it fervently
As if the world is ripening blue
purple & succulent as mangosteen


Posted for the D'verse Poets Pub ~  Have a good weekend ~

Of what is

Onion orb by Deborah Glessner

onion is an interesting story -
it is poetry and motion,
frost shut in and poor

onion is connected to the following things:
it is a parent
it is tender

onion is the first to bloom,
an excellent antidote to the adverse effect
of scorching heat of the sun and hot wind



onion is simply sweet 

~0~0~

His face trembled with fear so pale, like thin onion sliced by wasted knife. 

Posted for Imaginary Garden for Real Toads - Artistic Interpretation with Margaret - Orbs 
I have used the list poem technique - Googlism & 55 words for the G-man ~ Happy Friday ~  Shared with D'verse - Second part is an American Sentence - 17 syllables ~

when we move

 the beat goes off center &

        dives into an exquisite fusion-

high&low, crash&burn as if

       time is one long meandering s-e-c-o-n-d

slowly the hardness in our eyes

      & troubled words fall on floor 

smoke dissolves us

     green & light instead of black & weary fighters

we listen as the man grooves his heart

      & guts in his music, our sky retracts  

as we find our pulse,

     verses bare with excitement

flexes then another Ripple

     moves us like water  filled

with eXpectancy 
    
     optimism tears our chest, now a forest

we forget our scars

     battles that broke our wings, instead
        
we run, RuN aWay

     as if nOthing needs mending

                                                          nothing  

Kylli Sparre via Colossal Blog

Originally posted for D'verse Poets Pub - ~ This has been in my draft so finally happy to post it.  Writing inspired by beat poetry ~  Thanks for the visit ~

Shared with Imaginary Garden for Real Toads - Happy Anniversary ~  OpenlinkMonday

Inside//Outside my Head

This poem lives outside my head
It strikes at the edges & wallows
in unfinished business, cusps &
in between, backspaces & deleted words

It enjoys rowdy street crowds
and music blaring from the young man
tapping his fingers on keyboards as if
he's in a concert instead of subway stop

Sometimes it jogs early morning alone
in the beach or park, lost in its verses
unmindful of time, who comes nosing close
like an eager puppy waiting for a treat  

Some nights, it sips margarita & refuses
to rhyme, preferring to tango & sway to
hot salsa music & restless feet, until 
shoes & restraint are forgotten in the mix

It collects broken & forgotten things
as if they are treasures instead of junk 
During winter, it presses its cheeks
against my shivering bones, croaking  
'Here's the kerosene, light that fire!'

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - OpenLinkNight - Thanks for the visit ~ 
picture credit:   here

Winter morning

Grace@Everyday Amazing

Red

blooms trapped in ice

Brown

leaves stilled in teardrops

Blue

berries cocooned in crystals

Green

pines buried under snow bed

White

trumps all the colors, tapering

morning

ghostly pale than bloodless sky

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

Resolutions

Unwoven light by Soo Sunny Park

Chain by chain

block by block

there's light underfoot

& above

& sideways

Seeping into each crack

as rain

as canvas, clean & startling

as dawn, awakening trees after

ice storm with a gentle brush of yellow 

along its bent brittle limbs

Weave and weave

knot and knot

gather, refract, pour, mirror, cast

light 

even hidden from your eyes

each wave & particle, a seed

resilient &

beautiful as you 

May your 2014 be full of light !!!

Posted for Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Resolutions ~ My resolutions are to keep myself & the people around me cheerful & hopeful & of course, to continue writing.   And on a personal note, my eldest son proposed to his long term girlfriend over the holiday.   Now plans are underway for a wedding in 1.5 years.  Whoa, change is coming fast, smiles ~

And Shared with Write,Edit,Publish-New Beginnings ~ Happy to be reconnecting with you~