mo(u)rning tea/ anniversary

 

before the birds sing

& yellow daffodils unfurl

pour yourself a teacup of mint & jasmine

& write your story of regrets on the pages 

of notebook:  line by line

the words appear waiting      as if motionless

the verses turn wanting        as if suspended

you know all of them, lingering at edge of light 

beautifully absent

but you have learned something by now

you have not mourned them   

you burned your bridges

Posted for dVerse OpenLink Night,hosted by Mish.   Inspired by Tuesday's Poetics prompt on bridges.  Thanks for the visit.

Bridge between moon & sky

 

come dusk, you stitch your broken-

ness with words frayed as blue butterfly

caught in canvas.  you paint walls

out of lines, gaze at silence 

brooding as crows perched on lines. you

watch the moon strip the darkness, 

~shadows flee & light~

spills on your face, the sky

glitters with starlit trees & blooms

buzz at your ears as busy bees 

on spring day.  come dawn, birdsongs 

swell and the marvel of all: you

sun-dewed, yellow-daisied & carefree

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Poetics hosted by Merril Smith - Bridge poem using the puente poetry form.  Thanks for the visit.

slow dance

 

the grating shrills, honks 

of geese & gulls

do not bother me

the mercurial weather

of sudden rain & bright sun

do not despair me

i can wait

for marvel of fresh daffodils

& lazy unfurling 

of cherry

blooms, time of slow

spring dance

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Quadrille, Hosted by De Jackson.  The word is BOTHER in this 44 word post.   Thanks for the visit.

this scar on my left knee

is a pink flower petal

faded & crumpled origami 

a time-stamped map

my school girl's body turning to jump 

out from a van

as if i have wings

instead of coltish legs & black 

polished shoes

the door swinging back

its pointed edge, dull rusty blade on my skin

my eyes, once carefree & blind

suddenly became cautious 

of leaping & falling 

blind as maple leaf during autumn

(how i admire the faith of baby birds) 

i had other scars since then 

but you never forget the first time

you see your flesh, not a wrapped & bound book

but a living tissue, popping fat & pulsing 

red blood & bones, tiny veins

fragile as roots 

of a spring bulb

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub:  MTB, The Body & Poetry - where I am hosting about writing a body part/s as part of my history.   Join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.  

{happiness}

i pluck happiness

from a pot of soil

it was wet from April rain

dazzling as first cherry bloom

i wash its

plumb leaves gently & encased it in glass

an ivory in perfect repose & sunshine 

muffling all the sadness in the rooms

but in the coming days

it was a dying 

flower shedding its petals

blackening roots

shrinking

losing its colors, spice & flavor

quietly, it begged to be released

as a monarch butterfly

as a wild bird

uncaged, unfiltered, unmarked

over the back yard

& out into the sky

i toss it like a ball

of dragon fire

hissing above the pine trees

{i heard laughter}

In response to my original post:    {sadness}

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Poetics - Flipping Meanings.  Join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.