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 ~