5 Pieces on Peace

i.
Peace is a red 
lipstick 
I slip on 
a rainy night

ii.
Peace is a kettle 
whistling steam & tea
as snow outside
heavily coats
pine and maple trees

iii.
Peace is a cheap pen
I scribble
on corners of free metro paper
with words
without syntax

iv.
Peace is a wet rug
I clean
the walls
riddled with bullets
the floor
red with broken bones

v.
Peace is a paring knife
cleaving away the skin
and bones of history 
only the seeds remain
to be scattered
by the birds


Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - OpenLinkNight ~  Wishing everyone peace and light in the coming holiday season !  Take care and see you next year !!!!

6 Pieces of Time

I.    time is a water jug
      i forget
      in a corner

II.    time is a feather
       cold, stripped from bone-
       but warm as lilac ribbed-blanket
       on your chest

III.   time is a clay
       molding me 
       until i learn 
       to unmold myself  

IV.   time is a lull 
       between raindrops
       the pause, between letters
       and musical notes
       as my mind wanders
       in ink, brush and pottery tool

V.    time is the missing
       eye, ear or finger 
       i lost in the journey
       i may never retrieve it
       but if i ever do,  
       i will carry it
       sacred
       into the dusk

VI.   time is a tango
       dance
       with you-
       always with you-



Posted for the D'verse poets pub - poetics on Time.   Hosted by Lillian ~

Thanks for the visit ~

A Winter Night

the moon is half drum as night unspools threads of velvet.  i love to watch the blue hour of sunset and inhale the fragrance of pines.  tonight, i cannot go outside as its below zero and very chilly.   last friday, after my hubby and i had dinner at the vietnamese restaurant, i saw an old man with full beard of white.   he is homeless from the way he carried paper bags of stuff.   he also looked unkempt and struggled to walk along the sidewalk. above, the sky was an endless map, empty of stars.  when I last glanced back at the old man, he has disappeared in the cold night. 

fresh snow on browning leaves-

dusk comes charging, a grey horse

belching clouds of white

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Haibun Monday - Hosted by Kanzensakura ~  This is our last Haibun before we take our 2 week holiday break in December.

These scars of mine

They are wells 
with tulip's skin   

not welts from  
reckless kettle-burns 
nor winter-slashes
on black mirrored ice
and not splintered-stones
moon-stitched, 
lifeless 

you say:   
my memories are treacherously 
frail 

but inside this battle-weary heart
I keep a  
purse of scars
burning 
& stars writhing (still) 

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Quadrille - 44 word post with the word SCAR - The pub opens at 3pm EST ~  Thanks De ~

Half moon in November

                                                         Grace@Everyday Amazing



my bony fingers
searched for your shoulder of green
under the half-sliced moon
but instead I tasted bittersweet
tang of the first snow flurries
pared by November's howling wind-



Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - OpenLinkNight ~  Thanks for joining us ~

One glorious morning

I saw the earth juggling 
between two crown jewels -  

sunrise at the heavenly east
and westward -where the star-lit ivory moon sets

But my eyes are riveted

to ancient trees 
with no fruits nor leaves, becoming bones 

sinking deeper to soil

I embrace this hour 
in silence -

all my senses awakening
as the morning ripens, 
greeting me
with all the light it has 
& can ever give me

Inspired by the original work of Rainer Maria Rilke.

The hour is striking so close above me

by Rainer Maria Rilke

English version by Anita Barrows and Joanna Macy
Original Language German

The hour is striking so close above me,
so clear and sharp,
that all my senses ring with it.
I feel it now: there's a power in me
to grasp and give shape to my world.

I know that nothing has ever been real
without my beholding it.
All becoming has needed me.
My looking ripens things
and they come toward me, to meet and be met.

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub  - Poetics - Cover Poems by guest Bryan.

Thanks for the visit ~

Darkness after the 9th hour

Your last breath is our cross
We are now shadows, unmoving 
as we gaze at your body on couch

That Death's hands touched you
Painting you common mortal
under heavy curtains of dusk 

Death is a thief
Robbing you of frail parting words 
Our hearts are shattered ivory

Do you hear our choir of tears? 
We implore darkness to hide our grief
Swallow us whole, bury us as sands 
beneath your swollen feet

Myrrh on your bosom, chin & cheeks
can't stifle the stench of death in air

We remember you, as we pray
Eternal Mother, our undiminished light

Death of the Virgin by Caravaggio

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Hosted by Bjorn Rudberg ~ Join us when the pub opens at 3pm EST.

The city by the Great River's mouth

I am yellow 
sparkling lights &
scribbling daring words

on turrets, 
walls and bridges,
bar stools and shiny mirrors 

But tonight,
instead of wine 
& trying out exotic food
& beating to samba beat

I look up
to inhale the sky's deep
mystery-  

the full moon
eclipsing my city neon signs,
car lights, highways, borders 
to one giant canvas 

unblemished as black
stones and wild wheat field
running the river's mouth 
with tide's harmony  

I wear 
the night with simple
reverence
unadorned but for the moonlight
just as it was  
with my Native Fathers

Overlooking Mississauga City, Ontario, Canada during the Supermoon October 2016

The name "Mississauga" comes from the Anishinaabe word Misi-zaagiing, meaning "[Those at the] Great River-mouth."

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Night time City Panorama ~ Hosted by Kim Russell

winter's first exhale

Grace@Everyday Amazing

flurries 
light as feathers
falling in November's whiplash wind 

howling sky is pewter
as leaves dance in tattered
remains of empty garden

in the tumult of winter's arrival
breathe the calm 
you must keep steady

blue fire 
blazing for all
that's good in us




Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Quadrille - 44 Word Post, with the word breath/e.   Hosted by Mish ~ We had snow flurries yesterday.   Thanks for the visit ~

Words of Division

The skin is thin
clover, delicate egg wash
whilst November's winter wind
is knife
screeching white swastikas
of hate
And language of fear
touches tongue
        ice
        or fire

The light bulb is busted
and painting is rust
Autumn leaves on my feet
is choir
creaking notes of discord
The voice of truth
is lost key
        paper or 
        rock

Exhale the burn
and myopic opinions of 
the arrogant crowd
Mute the noise outside
And listen
for the walls are coming up
       Inside our heads
       Inside our hearts

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - OpenLinkNight.  Perhaps I should say, that the walls have already gone way up.   A short commentary on the heated political discussions that is dividing families and friends in North America and beyond.  I am staying away from FB for the moment.

Thanks for joining us and wishing you a good week!~  

Three gardens

I.

This garden is bowl of seeds
for birds, snails and worms
Under the orange umbrella,
I watch the creatures
whirling, chomping, chirping-
content with gifts from the earth


II.

This garden is scratch of hope
a glint of tranquility in the city's grey
minted with medicine, not only
for tired bones
for damaged liver
for scarred heart
for torn ligaments 
but also for
spirit seeking solace
amidst the perfume of blooms, 
vines and buds-
pinking the hours full, sated
by good company 


III.

In the basket-
okra, eggplants, lemon grass,
squash, radish, peppers, pigeon peas-
await my grateful hands
to slice their roots
to boil their leaves 
to brew their stems
to bottle skin and sap
and finally
to fold seeds to sleep
in my garden, silted with rain 
& green peelings of hope  



Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Poetics - Johnny's Garden Hosted by Kim Russell -  Pub opens at 3pm EST.

Moon-struck

Many moons ago, I was looking forward to a celebration milestone.   A fun event filled with flowers, colorful banners and a giant birthday cake.  Instead what I got was bad news about a family situation.  My happy bubble burst like a balloon. I shied away from Facebook because the festive photos of my friends and depressing news were affecting me negatively.   

   

I stare at the glorious moon tonight.   Her light shining above city lights and lake. Steady is her gaze above the fickled frays of human affairs and changing seasons.   I realize that it was my expectations, my perspective that was making me unhappy.    I re-frame my blessings and simple joys in the serenity of the blue hours.   Refocusing, I see the glimmer of pink threads knitting the magical hour.

moon-dewed night:

birds fly along ancient routes

unrippled by tides below

Photo credit:  Gary Fraser

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

No crying over the bridge

I cross the bridge several times that I have lost count.  But today is different.   As I prepare for the long journey, I say goodbye to what has been been my home for many years. In my mind, I am burning the wooden bridge to fire, casting away familiar roads and comfortable routines.  As the airplane lands at midnight on the new country,  fears for the future rises like dark clouds.  There will be storms.   And long winters of sadness. But there will also be springs and waterfalls to discover.   I inhale the air of uncertainty -it's electrifying.

Rushing waters cascade

over rocks & shallow pits-

wind trills and croaks

as I take a leap of faith

and ride the wings of change

Grace@ Albion Falls, Hamilton

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Haibun Monday.  The theme is about bridge/s.   Please join us when the pub opens at 3pm EST.   See you there!

#Hastag#Future#Explosion

Future

where are you

Our minds are wounded

Seeding us fragile- one slip, one

awkward fall, we're splintered sea-glass, Hey

Humpy Dumpy, how do we get back together again?

Future, we're at war (again) - Over race & religion & oil

Our hearts are rust, paper mached by too much hate -- herd-

Mentality we are - Staying mute is our game - No questions asked 

You see, we're all algorithms, predictable puppets of a few who wield

wealth & power -- Yes sir -- Yes ma'm -  Yes sir -- Yes ma'm -- Yes sir!

Future,  we warred with our mother earth, her trees & creatures

Hunting for trophy & greed-- Killing species -- Pumping oil & 

digging gold while pouring poison in air, land & water  

We walked with time bombs. Tick, tick, boom !!!

Future, give us another chance.  Another 

planet or star.  We'll even take Pluto.  

Maybe this time,  we'll listen 

to our neighbors & enemies 

& take better care 

of   our

selves

Picture credit:  here

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub- Futurism, hosted by Bjorn Rudberg ~  Offering a concrete poem for this challenge ~

postcard: first autumn

first inhale -you are breathtaking.  a sea of colors i have not seen before.   i marvel at the bright shades of leaves shimmering like jewels under the sun.  you spark the boldness in me as you fold the long summer nights to shorter cooler days.   change can be beautiful.   you inspire me to embrace change. my second motherland, our heartbeats may not be wholly in sync for now, but i am listening to my guts.  my footprints follow your peace, gentle as autumn breeze.  

    
beyond the wooden bridge
maple leaves fall softly as rain -
i turn a page

Grace@ Etobicoke Creek Trail

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Poetics;  first time hosted by Kelly Letky ~ I remember my first year in Canada many years ago - it was a season of changes.   Thanks the visit ~

Autumn sky

creek's cool air is an irresistible fragrance
as morning sun surges above grey clouds

turn me
to necklace of colors:
tangerine gold-
pink watermelon-
yellow maroon-
orange emerald-
amber tamarind-

and i'm lifted on wings of black birds
sparking a tumult against autumn sky

Grace@Etobicoke Creek Trail

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Quadrille - a word count post of 44 words with the word SPARK.   Thanks for the visit ~

Ten secrets

I.       You fold me

         in secret places

         with your words 

II.      I am burning red

         among yellowing leaves

         tempting- 

         an apple

         made lusciously ripe

         by your secret thoughts

        

III.     The tongue itches

         prickling under thorns 

         as marauding bees descend 

         You regurgitate         

         spilling the secrets of seeds 

IV.    The taste of spice  

        of a stolen afternoon

        The music that springs

        By the strum of your hands         

        My love, the secrets we serenade to              

  

V.     The starlings weave

        a million of them over the lake

        a dance

        to a music

        only the wind secretly plays 

VI.    This bleeds

         inside, gaping blue despite

         your attempts to stitch it close

         Teeth, elbows, claws

         This secret lives 

VII.    Your heartbeat is my music 

         Opening me to secrets 

         of sky and faithful earth

VIII.    Kiss by kiss 

          You unwrap me

          As blackbirds flew

          Under secretive eye of the moon  

IX.     You sugarcoat it

         With cinnamon & vanilla 

         Richly layered with strawberries 

         Still the stink of your dark

         secret haunts

         you

X.      I paint my secrets

         with autumn jewelled hues

         and seal them with beeswax-

         Death, pry them loose from my stiff hands

         and throw them to the river gorge

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - OpenlinkNight hosted by Gayle ~  Written in the style of Wallace Steven's poem:   Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird

Thanks for the visit ~

At back alleys & underground tunnels

"The land created me. I’m wild and lonesome. Even as I travel the cities, I’m more at home in the vacant lots."  Bob Dylan

I am your failed experiment, your outcast that you hide from the tourists who flock to see the famous CN Tower and Rogers Centre.  I am the rusty car you hide at the back alleys. The one with the unpainted doors, broken hood and dirty windows.   I etch loneliness and regrets on the graffitied walls.   Under the darkness, I hobble along city streets where every space is calculated with parking meters and silver glass towers shimmering like diamonds.  Only the penguins greet me, nibbling the breadcrumbs near my feet.  I set a stained foam cup on the sidewalk and watch the tail light of cars and buses blurring out of sight.  My liquor-breath mixes with autumn's cool wind, blowing this morning's newspapers deep to the shadows.     

A lilac maple leaf falls

on the fountain, empty of water-  
while black birds count-
perched atop electrical lines  
basking under hunter's moon

Grace@Everyday Amazing

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Haibun Monday Hosted by Bjorn Rudberg.   Join us when the pub opens at 3pm EST.  Thanks for the visit~

Blowin' In The Wind

when the sky is a sphinx
and my eyes are misted grey

how many times must I fall
before I walk in my own shoes

when the road is unmarked
and scarred by stones & thick tubers

how many times must I question
before I am swept away to the sea  

when all the answers are blowing 
in the wind, rolling beyond my grasp

I listen deep to the drumbeats 
of trees, shimmering in golden jade  

and marvel the arc of falling leaves
bowing to the wind

Grace@Everyday Amazing

*Title and poem inspiration from Bob Dylan, Blowin' In the Wind

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - We are writing about Bob Dylan, the Nobel Prize winner in Literature. Come and join us when the pub opens at 3pm EST.   

A Canadian Feast

lead me 
where the tree is a cathedral
of colors
and the sky is a river of light

where simple joys
outshine any shadows of sorrow 
stain the forest floor with 
fat cheeks of ferns, 
wild lips of flowers, 
& poised coats of mushrooms  

that I may see the 
wisdom
of your brown-weathered palms-
that I may rest on your
bosom of green
and roots of serenity-

ink my pen
with dew and seed pods
from your autumn harvest

for today is a feast
of thankfulness for this good earth 

Grace@Rattlesnake Point, Milton, Ontario

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Poetics:  A Cause for Celebration - Hosted by Walter Wojtank - Yesterday was our Canadian holiday- Thanksgiving.    

Autumn flight

sky is sun-shrouded
as birds rustle above trees

rib me not, in cotton nor fur
cool air is light on my brows

cloud me not, in rain nor fog
i'll climb until i fall

with rust-orange hues
embracing distance

between certainty 
& red river

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Quadrille - a 44 word post with the word - CLOUD.   Hosted by Kim M. Russell ~  Happy Thanks giving to my Canadian friends ~  We are having a cool sun-dappled autumn day !

Unframed arrangements

at night, i arrange
our memories, leaf by leaf
stone by pebbled stone

as if every sun-dried crevice
of shells and mollusks echo
the careless caress of your voice

but the season of emptiness
has begun - decaying anemones
along with drift wood -

brims the sand box -
smell of coarse salt & kelp
remnants of sea

amputated by riptide-
here, stillness of hermit crab's pincers
frames & palms

every floating urchin
& bleeding shark-fin carcass
into distant mirror

flat, cocooned
by diving bell spider's silk

Photography by Emily Blincoe

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - OpenLinkNight - Hosted by Mish ~   Join us when the pub opens at 3pm EST.   Another poem for my prompt last week, on Arrangements from the photos of Emily Blincoe.   

Haibun: Extra(ordinary) day

I open the kitchen window to inhale the rain.  There is a sense of inevitability in the air. Like when a raven glides over the field, death on its eyes.   Like when autumn comes and starts plucking off the leaves from the trees.   I gather and pare the small potatoes, then cut and drop them in the boiling water.   Another pot is boiling with vegetables and fresh shrimps in a tamarind based soup.  While waiting for the food, I organize my garbage bags - white for food, blue for recycling and black for other trash.   Neat is good karma. Aroma of home-cooked meal is my soul's company.  The clock ticks loudly as the sun fades, taking all the pink streaks and yellow glitter from the sky. 

i dance without shoes

& sew pink in autumn leaves 

           before darkness crows 

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Haibun:   Extra(Ordinary) Days ~  I am pleased to be your host for Haibun Monday ~Come and join us when the pub opens, starting at 3pm EST.   

Thanks for the visit ~

Ten ways of looking at a leaf

I.      arrange me 

        on a moon-shaped plate-

        leaf-curled -

   

II.     empty of seed-pods

        the leaf 

        with still water

        withered to ground

III.     night wind whistles

         as blackbirds huddle 

         above city street lines- 

         not a leaf in sight-

IV.     a yellow leaf falls

         striped, puckered by frost - 

         followed by another leaf

         bright as milkweed butterfly -      

V.      the clouds are moving -

         like bees carrying all the green 

         porcupine leaves with woolly hairs

VI.     spin-dancing leaves

         call me

         i come over and join them

                    

VII.    your kiss,

         soft as a pine leaf         

         budding of spring 

         rain

VIII.   your face,

         a leaf

         scented by sun

         against my palms   

         my whole world 

IX.     leaf by leaf

         our memories lay

         in tidy rows

         still 

         above the black moon 

X.      i walk under shadows

         of trees

         without leaves

         without ending 

  

Picture credit by :   Emily Blincoe

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Meeting the Bar, Hosted by Bjorn Rudberg ~ Inspired by poem of Wallace Stevens - Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird ~

French fries (a stripper's dream)

Come on in & watch us
gyrate and shake our booty
all in line, chorus-style
to mashup song of hip hop & boogie 

For less than $1.89 (large size)
We will dance under frying oil
our make-up greasy
our stockings legs sassy

See how perfectly symmetrical
our faces are, how our bones are silted
with citric acid to preserve freshness-
all 500 calories of us-

i dream of scents- 

lavender soap and fresh disarray 

of legumes in soup 

Point, tap & click
We're your comfort company
Jiggling your miseries on a rainy day
With burger or chicken fillet combo
And with sugar-laced pop soda
We sate your hunger like a supernova-

Slurp, chump and burp-
We'll count the ways you love us-
Lay us down, piece by piece
On a brown bag or foam cup
Your thick smacking lips
greedy for ketchup french kiss-

i paint the skylight 

bare: billowing clouds and birds   

in fields of green 

Used with permission:  Emily Blincoe

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Arrangements by Emily Blincoe - Come join us when the pub opens at 3pm EST.   Thanks for the visit ~

The Poetic's theme is arrangements.   You can write about the experience of looking at the photos, or write about the scene or subject being depicted in the artwork.   You can also write in the voice of the object (e.g. stones, french fries, toothbrush) or write in the voice of the artist, or you can relate the work of the artist to something else that it reminds you of.