Sounds of Silence

on some good days, 
silence is a gentle
bed of summer
filled with whirling cotton 
puffs

but these times are few
as there sits this silence
beside me
digging into my eyes
(i can't sleep)
rifling me out of my ear drums 
of tranquility
& pouring darkness in the cracks 
of my skin-

sometimes it is a phlegm
that sticks to the tongue
i rinse with alcohol
drowning it with yellow-spotted pills 
but it   
keeps growing a music
of wailing wind, dripping faucet
& sobbing grave stones  
(i can't sleep)

how do you keep this silence
silent?   


Posted for the dVerse Poets - Poetics - Sounds of Silence by guest blogger Dwight Roth.  Please join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.  For this write, I tried to get into the head of an individual with mental health issues/depression.   Thanks for your visits.

Forget-me-flowers

We chat over tea and maple biscuits 
as carnations & lilies deck the minutes
Your lips are red petals, fawning  
While my feet are wings, flitting 
happily as moths amongst tulips  
You pin a white clover into your hair
And tuck blue violets on your wrists 
Overhead, deadly nettle stings my neck
Igniting inside me, darkness, growing fire
Of barberry and yew - I'm sorry I can't offer you
the sweetness of roses, light of sunflowers
Here, take back all the flowers

And forget me, as I disappear, a scud
in the sadness of half-moon, shriveling bud

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Poetics - The Language of Flowers, hosted by Sarah Connors.  You can check for more information of the flowers and their meaning here.
Please join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.  Thanks for your visit.

Riverwood

Which way do I turn, if not, to you
Woodsy path is wild - wheat, grass, moss
Berries abound, colorful as birds
As summer mornings cool as iced tea
Under pines & sugar maple trees
River-bound, the air is pristine
Rebirthing within me, slate so green

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Septet (7 lines) poetry form, hosted by Frank Hubeny.   

Join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.   

Praying seven (x 7)

i didn't think of myself
-not in the beginning-
until he commended me -
chaste daughter, kind tempered, patient
virtues that he valued
as silky pearls, layer upon layer
-seven times seven-
shimmering under summer sky

the affirmation is I am
-an ending-
by what I have sacrificed 
laboriously, under repeated threshing
 -seven times seven-
my vanity, anger, greed, envy, sins
my life for his
until my caring hands wrinkled
husking the grains
and my voice became hoarse

following his
reciting the prayers
for the dying





Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - 7 times 7, hosted by Amaya.  We are to write about seven virtues and seven deadly sins.  Please note that this poem is not about myself; just my reflections about gaining virtues.  

(a)new

grow me pleats 
of feather and wings
and an itch to fly
beyond blue lake

stitch me 
under swathes of monotones
a twitch
to gather colors 
beyond my borders

edge this pen of mine
with hollowness
with lack
needling me endlessly
until I'm (un)done



Posted for dVerse Poets Pub -  Celebrating our 7th dVerse Anniversary!   This is Quadrille #60, 44 word post with the word "itch".   Join us as we open our pub doors after a short break!  See you at 3pm EST.