Tea at 5:00 pm

 

i leave this familiar abode

in the morning, time moving fast-

the train

noisily chugging across tracks 

behind city streets, underground

tunnels

in the dim lights, my mind wanders

to summer nights when blue rules - sky 

and lake -

slow the sunset tides, slow the burn 

of sands & fading music - bell

rings - stop! -

her fingers are now tapping time-

billable hours, accounting

minutes-

she becomes the clock in the room

tallying with her purse until 

it's time

to head west, passing by strangers-

time moves slow as a sweeper's broom

slow as 

stitched tulip.  trees are calling.  house

is warm tea, inviting.   i meet-

myself

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Poetry Form is Synchronicity.   Join us when the pub doors open at 3pm.  Thanks for your visits and comments.

Swooning with the moon

I.

The early morning sun holds a mirror

Painting yellow sunflowers on my face

Look, maple trees are wearing green slippers

And flowers are knitting hats with a lace

Busy as bees

II.

The mid-summer sky is an anagram

Where I rearrange the tidy letters

Into clouds of swirling sea tides & kelp

Where boats crammed of tourists, heave, sway & roll

I swoon with geese

III.

The end of the summer night is a page

Half scribbled in blue, hastily as kite

Lost in the rolling fog.   I masquerade

Sipping the last bottle of smooth red wine

Moon on my knees

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Colour me Poetry, hosted by Sarah Connor.  Join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.   Thanks for your visits and comments.

 

you write your words

on paper

blue-smudged, yellow-curled of verses

lifting us in lark

of fun, light as clouds

months later,

on grieving your leaving,  

we read 

your letter

<dart-folded plane>

we should've been giggling

but your voice cuts

& weighs heavy as stone door 

we cannot close

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Quadrille, hosted by De Jackson.  This is a post of 44 words, with the given word, PAPER.   Join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.  Thanks for the visits and comments.

after the strong southwest wind

 

when your eyelids shut

do you recall white-pink sands 

or the rage behind mud-graffitied walls 

do you see the bluest skim of lake

or spiralling darkness of missed turns of road signs 

weep

but open your eyes 

the light 

inside you

is never spent

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Quadrille hosted by Bjorn Rudberg.  This is a 44 word post with the chosen word - EYE.  Join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.  Thanks for your visit and comments.

Clothes

The wind beneath us

Misses our sweat, stains & messes

Rinsed in clean water

Scrubbed in soap & bleach

We jiggle & jam to be free 

Instead you pin our shoulders on

Lines with brown clips

Hooked our faces to marvel

The heat from this cloudless day   

Our bows are scattered across

Blues, pinks, blacks & whites

The sky watches the chorus

of birdsongs & buzzing bees

The green in the grass is new

You peer from the window

ready with your basket & starched hands

to fold us over your skin

Cotton-  softly sagging, frayed edges

Linen-  loosely wrinkled, stretched out

Smelling unabashedly - wind-kneaded, sun-baked -

Franz Marc, Flatternde Wäsche im Wind (1906)

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Poetics, March Wind Ekprastic, Hosted by Merril D. Smith.  Thanks for your visits and comments.