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.