I hear birdsongs

Grey clouds cover morning sky
Palest of white, misting eyes
Searching for seeds & spring buds
We walk slow on greasy mud


~0~0~


She is thin, pared to the bones
Her voice, faint as ghost's whisper
I wish she sees sun-licked blooms
Outside room,  waving at her





Posted for dVerse Poets - Tanaga Poetry form, hosted by Frank Hubeny.   This form has 4 lines, with 7 syllables per line.  Thanks for your visit.  

Cloudy with rain showers

sprinkle me with raindrops-
i am new

sunshine eyes, tulip-pale
blossoming

swishing my skirts, i bring out 
dancing shoes

with my umbrella, i'm 
skipping thru rain

dandy with daffodils-
i grin -   spring!!

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Poetics - Sunny-Side Up, Hosted by Lillian.  Theme:  Think young, take the energy of the spring season and think fun, new life, possibilities. Sunny side up, everyone. For this prompt, I have selected 1 image from the batch.   
Join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.

eggs for spring breakfast

dawn is whipping up sky in 
bluesy pink hues

in my sleep, i hear birdsongs &
squirrels chasing away shadows

and egging me to rise
flinging away the lingering winter chill

and push my tiny green fingertip up-
a spring bud above cold soil

Credit:  here

Posted for dVerse Poets - Quadrille, hosted by Kim M.  Russell.  This is post of 44 words, with the word - egg.  See you at 3pm EST.  

Into Infinity

when night turns my bones to rust
and my wanderlust heart rolls away-
obliterate me into stardust

that i may see the light of million mirrors 
without beginnings or endings
stretching into corridors of infinity

 Aftermath Of Obliteration Of Eternity

Y. Kusama, Infinity Mirrors Exhibit

Art Gallery of Toronto

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - OpenLinkNight, hosted by Bjorn Rudberg.  Join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST. 

Soul searching

i urge myself

be a candle wick
not a wax

my compass point is here,
there, everywhere

under the night sea of stars
or the open field of grassland

my journey is not over
my bowl is not filled
with answers

but with thorns and fallen
leaves
i love my womanhood- 
i pin a note: 
walk your own pace
and define your own season-

i urge myself

be a grain
of plenty, of solidarity

i join my prayers with you
bead upon bead
of comfort, solace, hope
threading under our skin
a mosaic of belongness
a colorful blanket, stitched with
our different stories

this temple is ours
in this home, i am corner-
stone, like my mother is,
like my grandmother was-

i urge myself

be a raindrop
into a sea of change

my future - welcoming
possibilities, with open palms

my past - sealed  
in a box, marked - forgiven
and dropped off-

my present - breathing 
deeply
the winter air is cold wine
pouring & bubbling last hurrah-
aware of spring's approaching
steps

i urge myself 

be a seed 
planted 
in this garden of life


Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Join us for a soul gazing experience, led by pub host Paul John Dear.  The pub doors open at 3pm EST.   Thanks for your visit.

Women, be fierce!

My hands are a keeper of words that stays

green as spring.  Even when autumn sits
curled beyond my reach, I'm content to play
with spinning wheel.   I gather all my wits
to seed:   fire, mustard & apples. What fits
doesn't always happen as I tangle with dark comedy.
I am a weaver who stitches and flits
sad corners, cutting away the tragedy.
Underneath the labor of tiny leaves, I eye
waning hours to inhale solitude.  Though I smart   
from the toil and burdens, I don't cry.
We women are embroidered with an open heart.

Sun holds our faces as chalices.   Don't moan
our past nor fate.   We are not cast in stone.

Posted for OpenLinkNight - dVerse poets Pub - I reposted this poem (Bout Rimes poetry form)  in celebration of the International Women's Day today !    Cheers!!!!! 

Remembrance

In this box
are my gems 

rings and necklaces
of w o r d s
and   w o r d s 
unbounded and sloppy
and more  w o r d s
dear from my bosom, knotted
with care

remember me
with kindness 
when you see whiff of 
flying cotton c u r l

and at night
when you look up and see
pearl of the  m o o n-

i am right here with you

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub- Poetics:   Threads of Feelings, with guest host, Sarah Connor.  The theme is love tokens.   Please join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.  Thanks for your visit.

Letter to dead roses

Dear Dead Roses,


Don't dance just yet
This warmth and sheen of gold
is just false spring
in the middle of winter season

Shake off those dead fur  
and your thorns-
they have lost their sting-

Don't fidget and sigh
spring will be here soon
garnishing green thumbs 
and roaring with the ocean
of rain   

Forget your old lovers,
and burrow deep beneath your darkness -
your seeds are counting bees 
your roots are raking new soil

Pure beauty
you are, flowering in sun's abundance

Sleep well in the perfume of snow.



Your Neighbors,

Quarreling Squirrels


Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - We are writing letters today.  MTB is hosted by Bjorn Rudberg.  Pub doors open at 3 pm.  Thanks for the visit.