Flashback to 10 summers ago

To island of my mother
if you call me daughter
with the sing-song lilt of sugar fields
I will gladly call you
home, and hand out red leis
when the time is right

The rice cakes were sticky, plump with goat cheese, filling my mouth with summer. 

Otherwise leave me drowsy 
among maple leaves
lush & green in summertime
I walk in circles
around trimmed city park
filled with blooms for tourists

The ten boxes & luggage were not enough, I wanted to bring the sea with me.   

I never left you motherland
I hand you this poem
pearly white as sand bars
in exchange 
for my tired bones
& wintered tongue

My father's eyes were damp with good-bye tears, but it was our summer of beginnings.

sand bars at Virgin Island Bohol

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Flashbacks, hosted by Bjorn Rudberg ~
Today is the first day we landed in Canada as immigrants, 10 years ago ~   

Thanks for the visit ~

Monsoon

rain, rain
you unfurl fingers, thicker than rose thorns

striking fear
at our core as you bleed profusely

filling all our cracks
with your wet tongue, pouring your perfume

at our emptiness
you sweep away

dirt in our feet, in our lips
filthy words, the garbage we harbor deep

tear down, not our frail houses
but our bronze monuments

green us
with teeming lake & pink-feathered birds

echo in our ears
the war drums as we keel under the wind's savagery

rain, rain
pouring out from darkness  

goddess of life 
save us 

 

Picture credit:   Here

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Monsoon hosted by Abhra ~  Having grown up in the tropical country where monsoon rains were too much & destroyed much of our land and properties, I wish for  some rain, not a lot of it.    Thanks for the visit ~

Mirror, mirror

you are the polished
glass
my eyes mend
everyday
lush  
red lipstick
carefully drawn
over delicate wrinkles   

your edges are
stitched
with precision
while mine  
wallows
damp with shallow 
rain
& flaws with each
sharp thunder clap

i wince
under your bright
harsh light but
once the moon lingers
his fingers on your oval frame
you are ivory window
opening
you are third-eye needle
piercing 

beneath the milky 
layers,
a face
waiting to be unmasked-

   

Credit to  Brooke Shaden

Posted for Imaginary garden for Real Toads - Ode to Quotidian Hosted by Karin

and Poets United - Thanks for the visit ~

Ode to ice-cream

Each scoop of you
is cream
lavished on bowl
puffy
as sugar castles
luscious
as thick maple syrup

I would barter
every candy
every nutty bar
so I can
swim
in your flavors
get lost
in your exploding
symphony of colors &
fruits

Here's the sun
melting you
soft as caramel  
sticky
no tissue can easily
wipe away
summer or not,
with pie, waffle or plain cone
let your milky
sheen 
cake
& darken
my lips
cool
sated 

as white swan
ribbed by blue-hushed lake 



Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - OpenLinkNight hosted by Mary- Another food poem, smiles ~ Thanks for the visit ~

Spring train journals

Photo by Fabien Bravin

He's a loudspeaker, holding back train doors longer than needed 
She hurries in, cool in long black hair wig
Pinned between thick black arms, his oyster
But her smile is faint, pinkly propped as a doll

~0~0~


He is shouting, Espanol, Por favor! along station platform 
Then he marches from one car train to another, a lonely hull of a boat
Crashing against train's whirlwind,  his voice drowns in our ears
Oh, teach us to fish and love


~0~0~


They share a Laura Secord chocolate bar 
Between words tumbling as fire red ants on sugar hill 
I see her collar, skin thickly patched, above blue summer dress 
But he's besotted by her words, caressing his wrist like dragonfly



Posted for Imaginary Garden for Real Toads - Quatrains inspired by Marilyn Chin  and Poets United ~  Thanks for the visit ~

Promises

Picture credit:   here

woman's eyes
catch his
lie
smooth as silk red-purple tie-
he smiles giddily
neck strained
faking remorse
with hands perfumed
lilac,
words drip honey-dew, sweetest
of plums
 ~ promises ~
plums of
sweetest, dew-honey drip on words
lilac
perfumed hands with
remorse, faking
strained neck
giddily, he smiles
(as he) ties purple-red silk smoothly
(the) lie
his, catches
woman's eyes

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - A twist for Palindrome form, hosted by Mary ~   Thanks for the visit ~

Walking away from shadows

picture credit:  here

in white room of empty
shelves, anger, not tears came
as she recalls the stinging
lies, secrets spilling on floor
& smell of cigarettes 

time didn't hold back-  
lacquered skin became rust 
& vows turned to chalk dust 
what she thought was clear water
was painted in pouring darkness 

wet, dawn comes as ghost
she flickers, smaller by lamp
light,  until walking away
she's a black dot 
the sky whites,
whiter than fading moon    

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Black and white, where I am hosting, starting at 3 pm EST ~ Thanks for the visit ~

The vows at the church

Picture credit:   Ellie Davies

Your voice quivers, caught
in the morning light, dazzling him
In a blue suit, your eyes are diamonds sought 
in deepest mine, where no sun can ever dim
nor night shutter its glorious crystal shade-
Here in midst of family & friends, you disclosed
what has seeded in your heart- a glade
where forest is lit with emerald stars & joy flows
endlessly as full moon tides, what lies
ahead you don't know - bricks or stones -
With you, this moment will never die   
framed & pressed, on your spine, a whetstone,    
on your hands, warm as spring's first bouquet on lawn -
You begin the vows with tearful smiles, fears begone ~


Posted for D'verse Poets Pub- OpenLinkNight hosted by Bjorn Rudberg ~

This challenge was from Imaginary Garden for Real Toads:   using Bout-Rimes with these end words: caught, him, got, dim, shade, goes, glade, flows, lies, stone, dies, tone, lawn, gone

Process Notes:   My eldest son got married over the weekend and it was a lovely family celebration filled with love and gratitude ~

The sky in my eyes -

I am slick with rain, drenched
to skin with hovering clouds
But you don't notice but my colors
rustling silk-plum rose, scent of honeybees
then orange-gold, streaking of seeds-

 Picture credit:   here

I am sitting by dead
twigs, red-nosed pine cones & frayed
leaves, pickled brown by bugs-

The sun is cucumber cool,
minting the field in newness while
yellow-crowned weeds, trifles with wind-

The sky is a watercolor my eyes can't ever capture-


Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Poetics - Micro world Poetry ~  I am back to writing poems after a break ~ (I feel rusty, ha) ~ Happy Tuesday everyone ~