Thursday, December 17, 2015

Eternal summer

Credit:   Kathy Klein

we tear off 
banana leaf from the tree
it is a giant umbrella
stripping strand
by strand, we form a soft ball
anything we fancy-
the tropical sun colors
our skin to healthy tan
as we run around the park
smelling of guava and
sugar-fried sweet potatoes
time flits 
slow as afternoon river
bellyful as ripe papaya
on field of summer red daisies

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Hosted by Bjorn Rudberg on our last prompt for 2015 ~ I recall my carefree growing up years in my native land, Philippines ~  
Happy Holidays ~   Thanks for the visit ~

Tuesday, December 15, 2015

Under the sea of stars

In the thick forest
the night is a celestial field
of stars in ribbon silver
where every tree is a nest
and moon, a dream catcher


Violently, we hurl
towards each other, each step
a blazing firestorm- 
this is the dance of death
Until only one emerges, a new star


Streaking above the sky 
I catch the star light
Luminous as tiny glass crystal
I feel very small
On palm of the universe

                                                        Galaxy, Stars, and Dust 
                                  Image Credit & Copyright: Eric Coles and Mel Helm
                                                     Astronomy Picture of the Day

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Star Light, Star Bright, Hosted by Kanzensakura
Join us for  our last poetics  for 2015 as D'verse is going on a two week holiday break.
Happy Holidays ~  Thanks for the visit ~

Thursday, December 10, 2015


Credit:    Kylli Sparre

The waters corral me, quicksand
I am slipping, and not a strand
Nor knot can lift me up, sorrow
Drowns my hands to despair, narrow of light, I am stumped

Then sky opens, danger has passed
Darkness was just a rose with black mask
I cast away this blight, see dawn 
Rising sea of lilac green, palming all to glass

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - OpenLinkNight Hosted by Gayle Walters Rose
Trying my hand in Florette form ~  Thanks Gayle ~
Thanks for the visit ~

Tuesday, December 8, 2015

Peace, unembroidered

Your fingers do not know soft leaves
nor supple skein of silkworm
Only the hardness of streets 
And hiss of sharp metal blade

How you have forgotten
the years when you were young
Your hands were threading words &
lighting up candles in dark alleys 

Your bed is now thin of sorrows 
As you struggle to see the serene blue sky
above the ruins of scattered bricks
Suddenly, the air is black smoke of bitterness

As you fight for your breath
Is death the final harbinger of peace?
Whose peace?
Whose death?

You have no answer
As fling yourself to save 
a stranger 
from burst of gunfire across the street-

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Peace hosted by Bjorn Rudberg ~  I decided to write about peace from a personal viewpoint.  

Monday, December 7, 2015

Red River

Picture by Mary
Door County, Wisconsin, on Shore of Green Bay

In the distance a white boat meanders between the summer islands.   One can see the gentle rise of river currents and flight of white gulls under the sun.    But we know something else is buried beneath the river's tranquil sand.  It is heavy of secrets from files of lost and missing individuals.   They all point to the river's passage, whether by accident or by design.   We patiently comb the river's depths for clues from traces of hair to ropes around the blocks, all summer long.

Months passed, and now we must leave town with our winter boots.   Only the red chairs are left, a reminder of what could have been.   We vow to come again when its springtime to renew our mission.    The silence is deafening but we hear the echoes of the dead souls.   Lost in the river's darkness.           

no snow dust
nor icy wind on my cheeks-
my wounds are deep & red

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Haibun Monday - 4, Hosted by Mary ~   Based on Searching for traces of the Missing in Winnepeg's Red River

Tuesday, December 1, 2015

Secrets of the Universe

I am sitting on the subway train
wrapped in my winter coat
& black boots

Around me,
passengers bury themselves
in free morning paper & noiseless music

By now the wheels
chugging is a steady beat 
that I am lulled to light sleep

There is a magic circle
of tree moss, coral, flora & fauna
weaving and rising over my head 

Suddenly, giant umbrellas are scurrying 
people out of their seats, over the graffiti walls 
& above buildings to their heart's destination

Further away than blue-grey Niagara Lake
To where mountains nest
a forest with air so crisp as pine needles 

And here I sit 
on the floor filled with the fallen leaves 
from ancient gingko tree, all golden
like an ocean bed
an infinite tangerine sky
In me,
I am

"crackles" the operator's voice 
announces my exit platform
I rise from my seat
and see a woman across me 
wearing a bright yellow furry coat

Among grey & black coats, she stood out
in the crowd 
like Big Bird, I muse
Then, she turns to me with cheery wave: 
Have a good day!

I catch the speck of yellow 
as I exit the cold subway tunnel

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Inspired by title and poem by David McFadden, Secrets of the Universe ~   Please join us when the pub opens at 3 pm EST ~

Picture credit:   Colossal

Wednesday, November 25, 2015

Winter's shattered sky

first blush of snow
tinges white porcelain dust
on shriveled earth,
loud hateful words tangled with smoke-
where is south wind to lift gloom away?


night chills our bones
tired with drawn out war striking
streets to ghost towns,
winter comes with shattered sky-
where is blue moon to drown our aches?


take these broken parts
and hammer them to a canvas
with winter's fire,
your hands are a gardeners'
blooming each fragment to petaled sun-

Israel Artist Zemer Peled

Posted for OpenLinkNight - D'verse Poets Pub ~  I am on a short study break but will be around to visit ~   Happy Thanksgiving to our US friends ~

Thursday, November 12, 2015

Soup for today

a maple leaf falls
on bench, wind-swirled, sun-creased 
I heard a leap of faith  

Grace @ Everyday Amazing

I inhale autumn's air
it is melancholy lilt as sun
browns the last leaf to gold
and russet

I gather fallen cones
cold as red-winged feather
along with decayed blooms
scented with rain

I brace myself for winter's
onslaught but today, i inhale
crisp air deeply like a warm
freshly bubbled soup

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - OpenLinkNight hosted by Abha ~  Thanks for the visit ~

Tuesday, November 10, 2015

Season of autumn

Grace @ Everyday Amazing

Give me dawn on teacup
Fresh as blueberry jam on toast
My morning weaves cold breath
Bluer than last leaf hanging still

How many more apples will leap
from boughs to wet groundswell
How many more nights will grey geese
bear before it flies away

Darkness is not just a color
It's a veil of silence 
I break it by writing on paper
Calligraphy or ink

I marvel how trees are baring
Their slender limbs & empty pockets
And everywhere the leaves
draw red war paint on their faces 

As if life's party is on streets
And sidewalks, merry parade
Before all the fruits whittled, slushed 
To ground for spring's harvest  

Who is counting the time
Before the sun departs so early
I do, for its autumn
The season of wanting & waiting

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Poetics on Weather You Like it or Not, Hosted by Victoria Slotto

Thursday, November 5, 2015

One lemon(y) afternoon

Grace @ Everyday Amazing

I found tran-
quil(i)ty on bed
of lemon-tarred leaves,
zest-stirred by autumn breeze

My eye-
lids drooped
to slow tick-tock-chuck 
of warm sun(shine) un-ra-vel-- i --- n----- g

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Enjambment, Part 2 with Guest Blogger De Jackson
and Poets United, Tranquility ~  We have been enjoying a rather warm(er) autumn week ~

Jambin' with autumn

Grace @ Everyday Amazing

her slowly

cast fiddlesticks to
sky as light bounces trip-

ping edges to fiery red musk
last in-

hale, ex-

drunk-mellow after-
noon sugar-

sweet, this is (y)our last 

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Let's Get Jambin' with guest blogger De Jackson

Tuesday, November 3, 2015

Traveler's heart

Give me 
autumn's billowing wind
Ruffling falling leaves to wet canvas 
I am blue butterfly trifling the wheat fields
Up north, I travel to gaze snow-capped mountains
Down south, I gather shells & listen to sun-lit chimes

I flicker back and forth between cities and seasons
To the east, I drink green tea & feast on pink lotus
To the west, I sip ripe wine & study cathedrals
My luggage is not yet filled of souvenirs
 With colorful shirts and silver spoons 
Like clouds, I will not rest, not yet
For I have a traveler's 

Photo Credit:   Brooke Shaden

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Poetics:   Tangled in Traveler's Heart

Monday, November 2, 2015

Autumn's sanctuary

Painting by Van Gogh

Her mind collided with confusion, then wilted under strains of faintest music.   She steadied herself for air and read the paper creased with worry lines and self-doubt.   She feels like a stranded ship as she carries the weight of toddler strapped in front of her chest, and a backpack.    She had journeyed the last miles with the world on her shoulders.     

At the distance, she can see the blue-tiled slope of the buildings and trees surrounding the area.   This is what she has come for - haven, a sense of quiet away from red dust streets and smell of burning tires.   She inhales the sun's golden light, aroma of crisp air of autumn and serenity of hummingbirds.   Relief rains over her tired face and steeps into her cold bones.   Warm as father's tight embrace to a prodigal daughter.    

fields of yellow and blue
wave, weave and warble with wind
in autumn's dying light

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Haibun Monday ~  Thanks for the visit ~

Tuesday, October 27, 2015

To the keeper of my nights

When the darkest of your nights come 
And moon hides its slumbering eyes
remember that you are loved

When your thin arms are pierced with pain
See how light climbs and peeks through sky
Even when the night is lit with darkest clouds

Open your palms in gratitude
I am here, beside you
Remember that you are loved

Even when your heart is failing as autumn leaf
And your words are stuttering, asking why
And when the darkness of the night will come 

And end your suffering, hold my hands
Let silence wrap us like seedpods
Remember that you are loved

Our memories comfort us 
like thundering rain on land so dry
When the darkest of your nights came
You remembered that you are loved

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - I am going to miss you when you are gone ~  Hosted by Kelly Letky ~

Thursday, October 22, 2015

Feast of slimy pumpkins

Yellow moon, black bats, horned owls
Lend us your faces to scare folks 
Waiting for us by door on coldest night
Don't put the candy maker on sick call
We going to sing ghost songs until we are numb

Yellow moon, black bats, horned owls
Cast away the witches' spell, a joke  
We are turning plump as pumpkins
Filled with glee from treat bags haul
We show off our tongues, green with slimy gum

Picture credit:   here

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Hosted by Victoria ~  Join us for some fun starting at 3pm EST

Tuesday, October 20, 2015

Song of the Witches

Picture credit:  Colossal

Light a candle, 
Boil water in cauldron 
Measure a cup of trouble
With a pint of sea salt 
Add sprig of mischief
Then skin of slippery eel 
Hair of dead bird 
Blood of piglet
Spice of Devil's dung 

Boil and steam
See white heat froth
As we cackle grackle 
See our faces turning red
As bloody puffy moon
Then the charm is good and fine*

Title and last line from Macbeth's Song of the Witches by William Shakespeare

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub- Thrilled and Chilled hosted by Kanzen Sakura

Thanks for the visit ~

Tuesday, October 13, 2015

The land of giant beavers

carve me
with mighty heart of caribou
under mustard sky
I will fly with northern geese
to settle down with my spears 


we mark trails
crossing the river of hundred fish
the sun is tempest bee
yellowing the fields to maple honey
we cast nets wide in a single wave


we stamp our feet 
to furious beat of sticks and drums 
come to prairie 
where the soil is black 
and every stone is alive with our blood 

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Hosted by Bjorn Rudberg who shared with us these petroglyphs, stone carvings from Sweden.    

Saturday, October 10, 2015

Before dawn & storm's landing

                                                       Credit to:  Joni Niemela

night sky is bathed in deep purple 
mystery, while moon is sword dangling
between two mountains & broad river
alone I am not
hearing the calls of migrating birds
& stampede of thousand wildebeests
i prepare to travel west 
where drum songs for the dead 
echo heartbeats 
of closing thunderstorm

Posted for Imaginary Garden with Real Toads -Micro poetry.  A decastich, a poem of 10 lines and Poets United ~  Thanks for visit ~

Thursday, October 8, 2015

Black moths, white fear

                                                     Carlos Amorales

We are drawn to the light
to soothe our coal-inked wings
singed by fumes & polluted air
we inhale heat behind walls

to soothe our coal-inked wings
and lighten talons of fear
staking our ebony chests

singed by fumes & polluted air
we swarm as clouds, our bodies 
hovering dry-pitted earth

we inhale heat behind walls
to garnish our lithium eyes
long blinded by chemical dust

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Trimeric form hosted by Mary ~  Thanks for the visit ~

Notes of this art installation:   Black Cloud can be understood as a cautionary tale if we go back to the years of the British Industrial Revolution in the mid-nineteenth century, when the grizzly environment, tinged by coal combustion, originated a natural selection of black moths in the cities. The typical moth in England prior to the Industrial Revolution was the dominant light-coloured form which made it very difficult for birds and other predators to see it against light-coloured trees and clean walls. The coal that was burned as industry spread throughout the north of England blanketed the countryside with black soot and a new dark form of moth emerged. It appeared suddenly, came to dominate the population in industrial areas, and then declined just as sharply following the closure of coal mines and many industrial centres. Pollution levels dropped, clean air laws were introduced, and the sootiness that prevailed during the nineteenth century disappeared from the cities. Dramatically, as the cleaner, lighter conditions returned, so did the lighter form of the moth. Some biologists suggest that the dark moths will soon be extinct.             

Wednesday, October 7, 2015

Gifts of African Night Sky

by barren land
ancient trees gnarled by storm dust
rise with garland 
& dress shimmering of silver raindrops-
tonight, she dances under diamond-lit sky


love the trees 
as your beloved children,
said her grandmother to her-
so she planted trees until her last day
tonight, she hears their music for the gods


think for yourself
and question everything,
her teacher told her-
so she broke bread with friends & strangers
tonight, under sea of stars, she writes

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Gifts hosted by Ahbra Pal ~
and Poets United - Teacher, hosted by Susan 
Thanks for the visit ~

Monday, October 5, 2015

Caught in a dream

She hovers light as bird in a nest.  Yet her feet are lead, tangled in history of hurts and twigs of betrayals.  It has been 3 years now, but tonight when the moon glints coppery red, the past recoils like black tide shrouding  her vision.   She can hear the whiplash of his words, like a storm circling overhead.  The hard fist of his hands, gnawing fear in her chest.

Slowly, she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand as if to rid of acid-laced memories.    Outside, the wind rattles crushed soda cans on the streets, sweeping them like lost feathers.   She thinks of leaving the city and starting a new life somewhere. A place to call her own with a small garden.   Sinking deep into sleep, she hears the ticking of the clock.  Every second reverberates, as echoes of gunshots.  As heartbeats of runaway prey.

red maple leaves
blanket rose-less garden,
night is tinderbox

                                                                  By Brooke Shaden

"Yesterday is but today's memory, and tomorrow is today's dream." - Quote from Kahil Gibran

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Haibun Monday - The prompt is open all week, so come and join us!    Thanks for the visit ~

Thursday, October 1, 2015

Women of north, descendants of Adam

Credit to Noell Oszvald

cattle, slave, devil
these are not my names
carved on my desert skin
i am bull's light keeper
looking to free my sisters


i weep for my ancient faith
and sins of all dead tribesmen 
like a lost sheep
i weep for more than
40 days and nights


who hears 
slaughtering of goats
young girl's tears as she is beaten & tied down
burning of old temples


before I'm to be sold 
as a gift to black-masked killer, 
i make a death wish 
wrapping scarves around my neck, so tight 
sun razed red soil to ash      

Posted for D'verse - OpenLinkNight - Hosted by Bjorn Rudberg

I chose to write about the plight of Yadizi women, who are suffering from persecution under the militant ISIS.  

Tuesday, September 29, 2015

Ditching the shampoo by the foghorn

I am camera shy
And would rather fly
I've no time for details
nor shampoo
My hair slicked back
will do the trick  

I spit on dirt
Ash and grit cakes my face
muddy as wet earth 
I'm a survivor
wanting not a hero's welcome
But peace to lay down its hands
gently like my old man did  

At night when harsh cold creeps
I look up and wonder
If there are false stars in sky
Where my compass lies
If there are bridges for the dead 
And another for the living  
In this land red-matted with war

The air is wild with fresh paint
of victory
Streetlights bustle with my cold beer 
as I wait for red-orange moon
to billow behind the fog-bleak clouds 
Despite what my comrades say
A moon is a moon to me-

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

Thursday, September 24, 2015

Black and White

Photo credit to Noell Oszvald

My tears fall silently
as half-moon recedes by redwood
The lone owl hoots
As I gather tallowed threads 
stitching days & nights to black & white 


Rasping breath
against black phone, then
ominous silence
sharp as rooster's crow 
on yellowed field of bones


Pewter sounds of rain-
drops pelting the roof tiles
I close your eyelids
gently as a petal fold
of last summer's blooming

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - We are writing Jisei or Japanese Death poems in haiku or tanka style.

Thanks for the visit ~

Tuesday, September 22, 2015

Night's paranoia

Craved images of you
Taunts me like red flag waving over bull's head
I tell you
I am a boxer with mangled fists
Shooting eggs with guns
Downing shots, weary of your paranoia 

But you keep on whispering

Flood me like a lone streetlight amongst the darkness

I kiss you slowly 
with my swollen lips 
Fear clicks 
Like a lioness with belladonna in her eyes

night descends
on blooming moon flowers,
carrying a torch 

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Hosted by Anthony Desmond ~ 
Thanks for the visit ~
Picture credit:   Here