hiccups along the trail

she sits
                    on the margins
                    of herself

                    listening

                    to creak of wrist bones
                    to beat knuckling her knees

                                       whispered wants of her tongue
                                       pearl studs of dancing shoes

                    waiting

                    simmering thoughts in teapot
                    and letting it steep

                                         through her  s k i n
                                         along    s p i n e

                    trail of veins   
                    between lungs of doubts   

                    finally, it's time   


to build a house
of her belongings                    

   

Posted for dVerse OpenLinkNight, where I am hosting, starting at 3pm EST.   
This poem was inspired from reading David Whyte's House of Belonging
Thanks for the visit.

3 stitches of change

i.

my wings are shy
blooming rust as sky
change is the wind 
whizzing under my feet-
i must jump & glide
or die-


ii.

first snow-
flake upon pine cones-
shadows grow, a bracelet
of wires on changing sky



iii.

sound of train is patience
as i gave him
my free Tim Horton's coffee card-
he stopped his guitar singing and
tucked it carefully
in his inner jacket-
his wide smile changed his face
& mine- 



Posted for dVerse Poetics- Change - Hosted by Paul Scribbles ~   Pub door opens at 3pm EST.  Thanks for joining us.

jellybeans with jazz

it starts breezy
your fingers slick, tingling
on guitar strings
murmur of leaves, falling  


then sharp stab
slurping my skin, milk-moon 
soft, honey-gold
& buttering my eyes
fringe of blue clouds


slam, slam, pour, pour
your ferocious heartbeats-
turn us to mindless waves
ride in - music -


we swish, rolling rhythm
pedals churning-
gathering us to heaven
gates, let's implode (again)-






Posted for dVerse poets Pub -  Jazz poetry with a lovely guest blogger, Amaya.  Come and join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.  Thanks for the visit ~ 

the bird underneath my winter coat

she is light as feather 
on the train, we're matching sweaters
but in my office, we're opposites 
as i pour over my sheets
she is leaning out of glass window
steeled by balconies, her flamingo
skin quivering among boxed flowers & fake grapes- 
her eyes far away, smitten with the lake-

there are city pigeons & gulls 
feeding near the trash bins, but her pulse
is untutored rhyme so she stays away
from gossips around the water cooler-
her sighs are blighted poetry 
scribbled hurriedly on paper napkins 

she leads a secret life,  
craving for sweet berries & a slice 
of honeycomb or mushrooms-
her screams are echoes 
of raindrops until 
every evening, i return home 

where i preen her wings
and we dance and swing  
to wild song of the wind
to hoots of night creatures
until finally
my chord hits a nightingale's note
she's a songstress in velveteen- 

Posted for dVerse poets Pub- Hosted by Kim Russell.  Inspired by the poem, The Heavy Bear who Walks with Me.  The challenge is to write a poem, of any length or form, about an animal in a human way or a human in an animal way, highlighting some trait of the animal/human that either sets us apart or brings us together – it’s up to you, just as long as the poem is new.

daydreaming

it's pink pebble
on palm of frothy shore

ringed by remnants
of corals, shells, dead starfish 

above, sun splashes blue sky
oblivious to the quarrels of birds

palm trees flick 
buzzing wings glinting of jewels

under striped umbrella,
snoring waves rock me to daydream  



Posted for dVerse poets pub - Quadrille  Hosted by Mish- 44 word post including the selected word, ROCK.   It's actually cold and chilly where I am right now.  Join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.

November collections

I collect words
    they smell of coconut oil and thyme

I soak them in water
    warm as silent ocean, soft as clouds

Some of them swim to the
    blue map, ringing of certainty

But some of them gnaw 
    on my insides, growing eyes

Lidded with petals & loops
    raising questions & veins of wants

I breathe the tissue of my darkness    
    reeling in/out of my every heartbeat 

Come out of my mouth 
    before the year grows old with snow-

Posted for dVerse Open Link Night, hosted by Toni (Kanzensakura)  ~  A second offering for Lillian's prompt.   hanks for your visit.

at the streetville of flowers

they came with mops, brooms, 
   buckets on streets,
and swept off the beggars,
   homeless, clueless
addicts slumped on my feet-
   cruising between

my arms, spray-painted by  
   electric green
and psychedelic orange-
   my head, turban
of colorful stories-
   erased to white-  

i'm restored melody
   flowing breezy-
i'm saving grace among 
   eyesores & punks-
i flow as flowers do 
   flowering to the sky

shimmering false-blue hues-
   stop!  it's bleached!
the whole city is tangle
  of rotting bones 
coated with fresh garden air
  for VIP guests

so I stand still
  dreaming of sunflowers
buzzing of insects- 
  collecting rain in pockets-
my nose runny 
  with smog by whizzing cars 

  

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Street Art or Culture, Hosted by Lillian ~  This is theme: I’ve posted five examples of street art for folks and ask them to pick one and somehow write about it. Images in public domain at Pixabay.com. Only requirement is that folks post the accompanying image.

the long mo(u)rning

My mom comes to visit the graveyard to say her prayers.  The early November crowds have gone, and the solemnity has returned to the cemetery.  Her lips and fingers move around the rosary beads with ease.   As always, her eyes water as she sees my father's etched name on the grey plate. How each letter glitters like tiger's eyes under the dying sunset.  Though she has dedicated masses and special intentions, she wonders if he is at peace at last.   Is he still suffering or has he finally reunited with our Lord? Every night, she prays for a sign, message or a dream of my father's after-life journey.     Over the phone, I listen to her crying and questions.  I have no answers.                

snowy owl hoots

behind trees & carpet of leaves-

night is silent, starless-

Source

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub- Haibun Monday, hosted by Victoria Slotto.  The theme is to

write about Fukuroo – the Owl. Owl is a winter kigo but you can write about any season. Please keep the prose to under 200 words. 

jamming to strawberries fields forever

your skin
is sun-dimpled  
luscious silk that
when
dipped in petticoats
of cream
or chocolate
or brandy
becomes honeycomb
of sweetness 

plucked-  
i hear you
rinsing under water,
paring green leaves,
& quartering your heart
to vanilla-shaped florets-
readying your
siren song-
we turn to grinning fools
with butterfingers   

popped-
tell me,
when the full moon
rises, what will
we do with all this 
juice
stuck in our mouths-
red, of the purest kiss 

Picture credit:  here

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Meeting the Bar hosted by Frank Hubeny ~  Today we are writing about ODES (Poems of praise).     Pub doors open at 3 pm EST.   

Plastic cups of empty

city is
hard-wired to noise-
music, car tires spitting

between streetlights-
most trees are half-dressed
in orange pleats with rust-brown twigs

i listen
to last kick of leaves
hitting rain-puddled steps-

it echoes 
along with 
guitar's strings of busker, filling
our cups
of solitude

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Quadrille, hosted by De Jackson ~  This is a 44 word post with the word KICK.   Join us when the pub door opens by 3 pm EST.

November

the wind is blade
of ice, cutting through the skin-
November sky is wrinkled  
in steel- blue fur & grey scarf-
the fallen leaves dot
streets in golden light & fading ink-

in the yellow-domed cathedral
the people light candles for the dead
and bring fresh flowers & rain-
soaked mourning cards
for some, the memories of departed souls
is a fleeting strain of music
light as whiff of red roses

for others, grief is heavy as winter boots 
pounding the cobbled stones
searching for signs
to go somewhere, anywhere
but this void, festering wound
slowly turning the bones to stone

i wait for sunsets
magnificent light show 
of bleeding purple, 
bristling orange & raunchy scarlet ribbons, 
thick with wild-eyed ardor
for life, ever unfolding-     

For dVerse Poets Pub - OpenLinkNight - The pub doors open at 3pm EST.  Thanks for your visit.