What's inside the box

 

blues & blue bows,

endings 

with messy mislabels, endings

of unfinished books, endings

with edges 

of contrition & sleeves of discovery

one door

opening to another door

maze of

                endings, that never

                                                ends

*a drop of ore,

a native flower,

a piece of splendor

day in and day out

Last 4 lines from *What Beauty does by Patricia Spears Jones

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - MTB - endings & beginnings, hosted by Peter Frankis.   Thanks for your comments & visits.   Have a Merry and Blessed Christmas.  Happy Holidays!   See you on Jan. 4, 2021!!!

Under Gothic Lights

 

Your perfume is black orchid of sadness

Enticing my shadows, rhapsody of madness

I shimmer into your quicksand of scars

Blood ink-stained verses drip, my hands are shears

wholly competing for your moon-starved eyes, I'm 

falling over your reckless mountains & dunes of desire

Above, stars are pelting unicorn's lights

Sky is castle of doomsday chaos in our sighs

We hear our hearts beat as birds of prey

Circling in unison - magic - in the fray

Our mouths are filled with dead flowers

And tumbleweeds, caressing stolen hours

Love, let's lie together, stroked (stroking)

in our failing universe, ash-smoked (smoking)

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Exploring Gothic as a Literary Genre hosted by Sanaa Rizvi.   Thanks for your visits and comments.   This is our last Poetics for 2020 before we go to our Holiday break.  

Flight

My heart was split, and a flower appeared*

I bartered my hourglass of sand for its petalled serenity

I offered my cup for the boldness of its elixir 

There is a receptacle of honey & beeswax

I wanted to jar & hold it    {forever}

But its stem faltered, wanting nothing

As bare red maple trees wanting nothing

But crimson orange sunset, quicksilver of light

Burnishing its bark with summer chaos of birdsongs 

I sink to earth's moss & inhale icy musk of death

Let go, carry on   {kite}

Filled with wishbones & books braided on tailwinds

*My heart was split, and a flower appeared (Solomon)

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Poetics - Stepping Off the Sidewalk, Hosted by Laura Bloomsbury.  Thanks for the visit and comments.

Smooth Operator

 

i want slow dancing

starbursting in my chest

& filaments of delicate lacework

latching on my ribs

{swoon}

the night spell is mad timbre

of iridescent specks of dotted lights

smooth as ripe velvet plums

swaying  

                earthly swells

wine color 

                 drumbeats

& taste of wild 

                        crooning clarinet

pour red, 

     (bubbles of rose champagne)

all over my saxophone

     splashing purple & violet hues

my piano fingers are fire-

crackers

              all over you

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - MTB - Synesthesia in music.   Sade is one of my favorite singer - classy with that distinct sexy voice.    Please join us when the pub doors open at 3pm.  Thanks for the visit.

Witch's Broom

 

Whipstitched nebula of filaments

Wandering clouds of dust, ember & gas

We wish

Watchfulness of ravens

Wistful beacon of light from dolphin's eyes

Wellspring of ancient forest billowing in our chests

Weightlessness of wars, words & wounds

NGC 6960 (Witch's Broom Nebula)

Picture credit:  Here

Posted for dVerse OpenLink Night (Live Edition), hosted by Sanaa Rizvi.    Join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.  Sanaa will be hosting live for the first  hour via google meet.

Poetry form is Pleiades.  A late entry for the our Poetics Promp, Stars that Count.

clarity {goodbye}

 

he has the ocean in his eyes

speckled emerald & sky

watching {her}

spring steps

she holds the forest 

breath

breathing

heartbeats of baby roots, creeks, rocks

& redwood colliding 

to gentle swish-sway of everglades

tilting to where sun

unribs fallen yellow and red maple leaves

in the stillness 

-calibration of wishbones, chances & crossroads-

the answer 

settles on his grey hair, soft bubble of rain-

                                                              drop

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub- Poetics:   Look Into My Eyes, hosted by Mish.   I have responded to the prompt of incorporating the eyes, to my post.

Thanks for the visits and comments.

an impatien(t) rearrangement, i move potted plants

 

from cold draft

to cradled lamp light 

   i (too) am impatient 

for passing of northern wind

shreding black-tarred maple 

leaves to leather-rust 

earth

plots seedpod, rebulbs tubers

(sleep)

womb of possibilities-

   green fingerlings, pink-sunlit crowns,

   petals bee-trimmed in mediterranean 

   hues-

unperturbed by winter's breath

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Quadrille, Poem Those Possibles, hosted by De Jackson.   Please join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.

a witness

 

lockdown  (pause)

the everyday normal

our house, room, walls

is the office & theatre & sports bar

& gym & school & library (& everything else)-

wired & plugged & zoomed

virtual doctor appointments & weddings 

& funerals (& everything else)-

we follow rules under pandemic times

wearing mask was initially a strange abnormality

like fishy, false news, but graph data of rising cases

don't lie

as in votes count in election results

don't lie

i delete

(covididiots marching last weekend) & read

with hope vaccine development news

How to Pronounce Knife

won our 2020 Giller Prize for short stories

i practice on my readings,

rounding my voice to bellowing bells

applause, applause (pause)-

my mind reels back to short dayhours

as yellowing of maple leaves mark

the season change

we (pause)

winter for few days of sun-

shine, spring of birdsongs, magic of colors

blanketing our city up north

20 C in Mississauga City, Nov. 10, 2020

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Poetics, Poetry as Witness, hosted by Peter Frankis.

We are enjoying a (rare) warm autumn week.   Thanks for the visit and comments.

a home edit: blue carrots

Monday is wine

abundunt with spice & plum

i spill on my

tuxedo

pressed for the week

i twirl my glass

for a closer peek on bowl

is it ebony silver, spotted spots of cat

or

is it golden locks of sunflower spires

on cusp

breaking underfoot from oak barrels

i drink to blues, blue 

i (breathing)

hours, smoke & symmetry of dead leaves

blue season of poppies & snowflakes

i reach (again)

for my morning medicine 

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - MTB:  Synesthesia.  We are focusing on colors (grapheme color synesthesia).   The post is about seasonal affective disorder (SAD), which is a type of depression that is related to the changes in seasons.   As a note, I have overcome this and have focused on keeping busy and engaged with poetry.

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

November sky is

 

a coarse wrapping paper 

i uncover

with my ink-smudged hands

i expect nothing but bleakness,

faded maple leaves, deadheaded flowers

in this red poppy box

night descends by 5 pm

darkness becomes a womb, 

a church, smell of incense for prayers for the dead-

(less 1 hour, 30 candles)

yet on first day, flicker of frost

whitest of fluff rains down

this is nature's quartet:   winter 

an aperture

where the soul song of maple trees

trills with cries of the geese & gulls-

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - November Poetics, hosted by Sanaa Rizvi.  We had our first frost in November 1st.   Thanks for your visits and comments.

Autumn Sky

 

when cold wind settles, blanket

of paraffin wax

on sogging stalks 

                             & petals

i throw my words up in the air

& see how some turn to russet, 

   gold

& pumpkin yellow

my eyes see                the magic

fleeting sunburst 

              magnetic pull of

                                    autumnal light

Autumn @EverydayAmazing

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Quadrille, hosted by De Jackson.  This post is 44 words, with the given word, MAGNET.  Join us when the pub doors open by 3pm EST.   

October pantry

 

Salt and pepper clouds on pewter sky

Thick marrow, mashed with maple syrup

Pumpkin skinned rhubarb and apple pie 

Drizzled curry and thick cream on vegetable soup

Fallowed leaves on twigs twisted in cinnamon bow

Bitter chocolate, cold wine, pints of sorrow on 

fallen pine cones

Harvested pots of color:   russet, crimson,

lurid yellow, blazing sepia & burnt amber on shelves

Faded photographs of black crows, echoes 

of requiem mass

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - OpenLinkNight.    Join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.  Thanks for your comments and visits.

Food for the soul

 

red maple leaves

blazing fire & frisson

feed

this simple soul

quiet space is growing

as autumn grips the sky

copper & russet 

we fall

on bed warmed by hikes

our footprints invisible

by dying sun

Autumn Leaves

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Three Little Words by Sarah.  

I chose:  Feed.Quiet.Copper.   Join us when the pub doors open by 3pm EST.

Hope is a suffix with plexiglass

 

hope is free

hope is a breeze across an open field

hope is a spoonful

of trouble, laundry detergent & rain clouds

hope is tea

spilling on my hands

steeping my words with prefixes & suffixes

hope is you, 

in you

hope is the sun-

dress, flowers, shine, burst

of glass

when hope is lost

hope is a hoax

hope is not enough

hope is a golf ball

hope is a letter that never arrived

hope is (not) a thing with feathers

that sits on my table with porcelain doll

hope is a verb

hope is a muscle,

lungs, legs, arms, wings, claws, fingers

it is young woman who calls

Animal Services for help, waiting beside  

a convulsing squirrel on the side street

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub- MTB, List that Google Gives Us - Hosted by Bjorn Rudberg.  I used the tool, googlism to spark and find my poem.   

Ballad of Jack & the Fish

 

His name was Jack, trader & trickster

Of perfumes & tarot cards of death

Carrie was young, dolled in her sister's

grey clothes, carrying basket of baby's breath

They met under bony tree, dire of pears

To exchange a letter sealed by candle wax

With a grin, Jack bowed with gentleman's air

And she smiled, preening feathers & flax

Her purse full, she'll meet him by lodging house

Tomorrow when the night is grey silver

And air is wanton whiskey & roasted grouse-

Jack rides off, salivating with thoughts of glitter 

On a flesh cuddly soft as baby

Her swan neck, arching for fool's gold

Wait, what's her name?  Jack's brain was hazy 

His chest were knives, pressed so cold

With these blackouts, he was lost fish

Palm readings to find his landing, so tragic-

Carrie walked towards the market to buy fish

hooks.  Her dagger & cord, ready to work magic

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - You Want It Darker, guest hosted by Lucy.  Dark themes in ballad poetry form.   Thanks for your visit and comments.  

Threads

 

my tongue is spooning pumpkin soup

      & warm bread 

wrap me 

not with wrath of pandemic's

      second wave

nor with skein of its affliction 

but with blanket

knitted soft as sky of maple leaves

       red-smocked by evening sun 

threading deeper unto shadows 

of trees

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Quadrille, where the given word is Blanket.  This is a 44 word post. 

Thank you for hosting Merril!    

Woman of the Tree

 

her ribs came from wood

of sufferings, swollen with moonlit tears

her eyes reflect solitude of woods

her arms softest of fiddlehead ferns

yet her fire from failures

carves her path now

into the next journey,

she is resolute, as her mother

& grandmother have been, welding 

her words to burn at every dawn 

Tree Sculpture at Mississuaga Park

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - OpenLinkNight, hosted by Mish. Join us when the pub doors open by 3pm EST.   Thanks for the visit and comments.   

Appled in the city

 

i wear my mask & shop in my grocery store

fresh fruits & veggies & locally produced meat 

on top of my list

i inhale the scents, imagining earth's fertile soil

basking in sun, spices & oils

but this routine chore is a madman's maze 

of confusing marketing pitches & items

as i am aware only too well

of what it takes to bring food to my home

there are deceptions at work in the process

to make the fruits super-sized & fresher than they are

to sell meats and milk as organic when they are not

to push for colorful packaging over bland & nutritionless items

at worst, we are vulnerable & misearable as chickens 

packed in industrial farm

I know that i chose this life in the city

so I go on inhaling industrial fumes 

while hopscotching over sugar-laced snacks & drinks

only too aware that others go hungry & live with the

foreshadowing of war above their homes  

i am blessed to protest in my own way

while continuing to educate myself about food safety & fraud 

if you can, speak up to your local community

before we all turn to codified shell-empty flower cuttings

Source:  That Fresh Look, Genetically Buffed

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Protest Poems - I have chosen the theme and issue of food safety and fraud.   Please join us when the pub doors open by 3pm EST.

Keeper of secrets

 

the days blur in sulfur  

time is raging sky of crimson & smoke

and come nights

your eyes are teacups of insomnia 

the intensity of your secrets eat you

your dreadful premonitions wither you

as if all your life events

are open book somersaulting in street corner

bring the watcher

he is a guardian riding on swallow's wings

he hands over the

key of the moon to

you

& you 

are hallowed in silence, 

made of candlelight

& cosmic heartbeats

catching feverish dream of cathedrals afloat in the universe

Credit to Catrin Welz-Stein

Posted for dVerse Poetics:   Let Your Words Be Your Paintbrush, hosted by Lillian.  We are writing about the work of artist C. Welz-Stein.  Join us when the pub door opens at 3pm.  Thank you.

Choose your spell

when days are stretched taut as strings-

when nights are purpled in turmoil-

remember that you wield

color of your sky-dome

blue as silent lake 

calm as palm of deep forest

or

grey-metal, sawdust of despair

in storm-drivelled clouds

or 

pumpkin-pixelled

coaxing sunflower spells

Sunflower by Grace

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Quadrille, hosted by De Jackson.  This is a 44 word post with the chosen word, SKY.  Thanks for the visit and comments.   

September Sun

 

It seems as though you are still summer

Running across wheat-rippled fields

Blowing dandelion seeds  

Your bag is treasure hunt:

twigs, warbled flowers,

bugs, budding things-

mud-stained gifts

Your smile-

sun

First line of my poem:   To the Light of September by W.S. Merwin

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Poetics:  9 Across for a count down, hosted by Laura Bloomsbury. A poem in nonet form.   Thanks for the visit.

autumn's bed

 

i palm daffodil bulbs with shrivelled 

leaves

it is time:

spading the rain-soaked soil,

i seed golden orbs with roots

on black-thumbed bed, 

underneath roses

threading death-stoned husks

night blankets quickly as sunlight 

mellows-

i mutter spring's magic

on wooden fence, chickadees are

eavesdropping 

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub- Quadrille, hosted by Kim M. Russell.  This is a 44 word post with the chosen word, eavesdropping.   Join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.

Sepia dreams

 

we are tinged by melancholy

of summer's end

we watch blooms fall, faint

as whisper as wind tarries by

lavender mirrors your face

as tides ebb & flow

autumn approaches with slow

feet, sweeping sepia tones

over green hills,

potted mums & ripe berries

black crows watch on sidelines

as light & clock winds down

we walk on exiled dreams 

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - OpenLinkNight - Please join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.  Thanks for the visit.

Midnight sky

love, come

midnight sky is moon-dewed

       under a colony of stars

darkness fades

as you trace fragrant words

       upon my skin

your kiss is blade of cognac

pulsing beneath my chest

      slurping, feasting, beguiling

burn the night

ocean-silk between my thighs

      staking my every sigh

cloving my every word

     with wild murmurings of wind     

And I will blaze

open, a pink-cherry blooming

     with all fire in me

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Poetics:  Exploring Erotica as a Literary Genre, guest hosted by Sanaa Rizvi.   I prefer writing sensual poems with lots of metaphor.  Thanks for joining in.   

Chrysanthemums

 

We beehive in the room

Lemonading & plumming our wine glasses

Smoked-cheese fingers, we willow tree on stools

Mapled by empty butterfly cocoons

Then, a sudden rain octupus the sky

We squirrel outside, sunflower-eyed at clouds

Our voices frogging with ripe peaches

The hours humming, scent of petalled mums

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

Rust

the sunlight on your face

wheat-golden as new day

grains of honey sprinkling oat milk sky

i fall into trance

these plum-kissed blooms

enticing blustering wind

to hiccups & heaves on leaves

edging with first rust of autumn 

Posting for dVerse Poets Pub- Waiting on Wheat, with guest host, Rosemarie Gonzales.

Please join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.  Thanks for the visit!

You & summmer

 

You are wrapped in clouds

Wearing a face mask

Feet to the stars, and moon-skulled

You reel in fishbones & blues

While reading palms of dreamers

I pen my canvas

with the last of summer warmth

My feet on fallen crab apples

Caterpillared by sudden rain 

Clowning happiest with sounds of your laughter 

Line:   Feet to the stars, and moon-skulled

from You're by Syliva Plath

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Clowning around, by Lisa Fox.   Thanks for your comments and visits.

Unmasked

 

My mind is toss up in word salad

Mixed with fresh herbs, my "baby" plants

are rooting nicely with tiny buds & thirsty roots

My fingers are forks, raking down to remove

dead leaves and fading summer blossomes

Autumn arrives with first harvest

Wild crab apples, plentiful for the squirrels & birds

I inhale warmth of dying sunset, orange-crinkled sky

(my pack of oranges are not so sweet)

My red roses, still blooming, second chances, i

Will always take, wearing a mask

Pixellated, stripes of black & white

My chest a garden of hopes, basketball hoops & hoses

Optimistic as red fat sweet tomatoes  

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Stream of Consciousness Poem.  Please join us when the pub door opens at 3pm EST.  

i prefer the city's backyard view

a lively canvas is drawn:

birds from chickadees, cardinals & bluejays pecking  

for seeds & squirrels scarmbling over fences & trees 

& wild bunnies scouting for food

on days when the dark clouds are rolling
& northern wind knocks the flowers of their golden crowns
& fruit trees are bearing hint of autumn with pears growing wild

i gather my paintbrush
& splash a bit of tangerine color at the sides
& dash of marmalade & lilac streaks across the horizon
& liberal dose of blue sky & bubbling clouds

i fold into
                  paper plane
                                        zipping out of the
                                                                        window

Mississauga City

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Poetics:  Looking out the Windows with guest host, Peter Frankis from Austrailia.   Please join us with a window photo from your home and a poem when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.  Thank you for the comments.

slow dance

frayed daffodil leaves
thirsting under summer sun-
orange cardinals hop

among the brambles,
cones & wilting rose bushes-
wild bunnies stop

wary of red fox
& coyotes lurking about-
sky- dragon of clouds

i hold 
spring bulbs for fall's planting-
sunset fades- slow dance




Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Haiku sequence, hosted by Frank Tassone.  Thanks for your visit and comments.

good morning

a scratch, then tip-tap by the bedroom window
pair of chickadees settles on my red tiled roof
soft as pitter-patter of rain on summer day
then the curious bird, perches just outside my frame
a few seconds, our eyes meet & he flies away
gifting me with bubbling smile to start my day

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Poetics - Flights of Fancy, hosted by Laura Bloomsbury.  Thanks for the visits and comments.

Change

my skin is earth & my language is wild
drum beats on your ears

for so long, you saw me 
as mere graffiti on 
your white pristine walls

scribbling questions on your legal
documents & laws,
you sought to banish me to
obscurity & extinction 

but i am
more than just statistic on your sheet
more than just label on your coat & tagline

my time is coming as sure as sun rises
my voice will multiply into sky of exaltations

a havoc of street protests
a hurricane of workers & passionate folks pushing
for inclusion, equality, freedom & acceptance

i am the idea 
whose time has come & you cannot 
turn  away

                 from me



Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Revolution, hosted by Merril Smith.  Please join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.

Unmasked, I am

i am unfurled leaf of unpublished book
my verses kited in clouds, imperfect meter 
i peer through half opened windows of houses as
if i am reading diaries & dissecting poems 
my thumbs are green now after being house bound
as my indoor plants & herbs, counting each new
root as if i am new mother, not a soon-to-be empty nester
during winter, i cover myself in peat moss &
lock away my thirst & my thirsty roots
my affirmation is spring, my music is summer
i want to join a sisterhood of chocolate lovers 
i will gladly hug you in a bubbled curtain with latex gloves 

though i have limbered numbers in excel spreadsheets
unmasked, i am sonneteer coaxing beats out of air

Grace @ Begonia Rex

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub:   Meeting The Bar, I am, The First Person Narrative.   Please join us when the pub door opens at 3pm EST.

For today's MTB, compose a poem using “I am…” with a First Person narrative in any part of your verse.  Go experimental and creative with your “I am” poem.

In expressing our “I am” poems, I encourage you to go beyond the usual descriptions of “I am” (a brother, sister, friend, citizen) and go experimental and creative with your “I am” poem. Think inanimate object, animal or groups of animals, planets and inter-galactic travel, streets, cities, plant, tree, or weekday or month or year, or even pandemic terminology.

the stigmata of waiting

i sit where i have been
sitting for the last 2 weeks

in the ICU
visitor's chair, a hard & unyielding stone

you are on the hospital bed
pricked, tubes on your veins, only your lips
are silently moving in prayer

a nurse breezes in, with pills & monitor 
& I lift my head to see
if some flicking light has changed your eyes
or your limbs moved /heartbeat/

but you are so still
broken doll
as if all the words & winds in your lungs have left
as if your spine is soft clay
as your pale hands clutches a rosary
& gold banner of faith, a gift from a friend  

a reminder that the sun is pelting sunshine
outside of this curtained sterile room
i keep watch
... of nothing really ...
just keeping time until our mom comes back
from the bank & grocery shopping  

i eat 
my doubts inwardly
because I know you have been weeping
& ranting about the last month of your confinement

there is heavy sound
at the pit of my belly, wailing
of anguish, crying of missed diagnoses,
seeds of hopelessness grow despite my words

of encouragement to you
we both know that every day is folding fast
into shadows, frightening to utter:
road of no return
i pray for mercy
unthinkable ending & begin-
ning, in whatever form this may be

(i am sorry
i have to leave soon)

mom arrives, carrying 
your pain & sacrifices
so proudly, she is light you turn to
every time death 
checks in at night



February 2018.   This poem has been in my draft but I finally finished and published this for our 8th anniversary celebration.  A sad story but after 1 month of my sister's death in April, my first grandson was born.  Life goes on.


Posted for dVerse Poetics, 8th anniversary celebration with our special guest host, Brian Miller at 3pm EST.   He tells us to capture a moment in our verse.   

Happy anniversary!!!  Thank you for your visit and comments.

i'm drinking watermelon juice

Sunday afteroon is pouring hot sauce 

         over the charred skin of grilled chicken 

sky is tender blue, rolling fluffy doughs of clouds 

         with hint of playful rain, at bay

i love this season of wilting blooms and and cantalouped-

         cheeked sun, wrinkling my face

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub, Quadrille hosted by Kim  M. Russell.  This prompt is a 44 word post, with the chosen word, BLUE.  Join us as we reopen the pub community after a summer break.  Thank you for your visits and comments.

Happy 8th year Anniversary dVerse Poets Pub!!!

i am

the word & phrase you write in every poem
the pathway, streets and city you live since you were born
the plate, cup, brew, spice, food you eat 
the hat, purse, coat, shirt, shoes that you wear
the wheel, hub, spokes, transmission that you ride
the book & tenets you read at night

the only key in your pocket
you carry wherever you go
not pricky, not heavy, not strange
just comfortable weight in your hands & eyes

i would have love to peek at other people's windows
& admire their paintings, chairs, photos, bookshelves
but alas 
i remain
your blind spot




Posted for dVerse Poets Pub- OpenLinkNight - Hosted by Bjorn Rudberg.  Please join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.   dVerese will be in summer hiatus and will come back on July 13, 2020.   Thanks for your visits and comments.

siren

between the sea and shoreline
white foam of blue waves echo

ocean's murmurings to the sky
shells open & birds with new

wings venture to taste the brine
above the reef in blue-green lake

here, death is clawing at each breath
here, life is rising under rocks & bones

a mermaid's wild tales
of missing treasures, sunken ships, lost

cities, treasures & jewelries makes
my head spin 

what secrets the ocean keeps in its 
darkness (we may never know)

but this I know
(&believe)

I stretch my hands outward as horizon
quivers, shimmers with coral pink sun

I am the siren,
I am the song
as the storm rises on my tongue



Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Hosed by De Jackson, Sounding the Siren.

Please join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.   Also dVerse will be on summer hiatus for 2 weeks after our OLN on June 25th and we will reopen on July 13, 2020.

Cicada

you own the night with your voice
drumming our flesh with city vibes

the moon beds you with starlight 
& silverdust, we turn to moonflowers

yet your eyes are bright sun-
flowers even when your bones

are weary, your breasts are heavy
with scars, still

your words are warm honey
& herbed tea, spooned by kindness  

as you watch over the vessel of your
bloodline & friends vine in tangled joy

now as our hands are weeping
we're also smiling with birdsongs of your memories

i breathe 
your spontaneity & zest for life

there are no black or white lines
only colors spilling out from pen & lens

rest in peace, friend



Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - OpenlinkNight.   Please join us when the pub doors open by 3pm EST.  This poem is in remembrance of my school mate who died this week.   

summer flowers

the summer heat
dries the dandelions to white whiskered heads

peppermint leaves scatter
their fragrances across fences & empty husks

lilacs and forget-me-nots 
are swaying to blues, bees & birdsongs

my room is filled with long
fingers of the sunrays & wheat grass 

i drink the darkness
at last, slurping its cold sweet juice

the moon is young
flower breaking out from its silver seed

with the stars & bright planets in sky
my dreams are teal, my words are nectar




Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - OpenlinkNight.   Join us when the pub doors open by 3pm EST.  Thanks for the visit.

language of pandemics

i paint

our words to be a virus
our words to be a vaccine

our words to be host cell 
our words to be N95 mask

whether you are asymptomatic
or symptomatic, our doorways are alike

from graffitied city streets
to funeral parlors with 10 chairs

let's socially distance
via zoom meeting with sun-

flowers stuck in our hair-
sending crownlit poems from our windpipes-





Posted for dVerse Poets Pub -About Portals, hosted by Anmol (HA).
Thanks for the visits and comments.