a work in progress: self-portrait

 

i didn't know it then 

but youth was quicksilver in time-

i still talk to my young self

who is self-conscious, rebellious 

& anxious, as if carrying the world atlas

on empty pockets 

in the mirror

my forehead is now furrowed like my dad 

my hands are wrinkled like my mom

i am aging into their likeness 

though i am also drawing my own portrait

the young girl is still here

curious & resilient with the tides of

work & technology

every day is a day of rising to bloom,

not being a thunderstorm or lightning 

in a bottle, but to be

someone who is (still) finding her voice

between her ambitous knuckles & mushy heart,

striving to merge her excel left brain with her artsy right side

with gratitude, she has

made a house to her own liking

in the wall, she writes a note:

your self-worth is not in your inbox

you are where the light rests

against the winter darkness, it is where your children

find you, serene as seagrass

neatly folding laundry at the end of the day

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Poetics - Resolving to Resolve, hosted by Punam.

I have used 2 themes/advice for my post:   Your self-worth is not in your inbox.  

At the end of each day fold your clothes and put them away, no matter how tired you are.

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

summer & winter

I.

 

here is an assortment of shells

pink, white, coral, and bones

it holds

sunlit days, rippled tides of spells:

shark's eye, cones, conch, small stones -

king's gold

on a clear fish bowl filled with sands - 

amber smooth as chai tea 

i sigh

for beaches & summer's long hands

when the sky is so blue

i fly

II.

we watch snowflakes spill - glass flowers

on barren fields & woods

calling

we gather light from short hours -

wicks, lamps & yellowed goods

falling

finally the moon is ours-

darkness is a cocoon

wrapping

midnight sky with mulberry stars-

silvering trees, we swoon  

clapping

The above is the example in the dVerse Poets Pub post.

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Memento.   Join us when the pub doors open to discuss the poetry form, Memento.  There is also an option to write a free style poetry with a theme about memento, using symbolism as a poetic device.  

brooding over you

 

imagine

red hibiscus by the gate opens  up

minute hand,  moves 

you.... get roller coaster nightmares

(if) they dressed you in cream

red is the torrid skin

my lazy left eye draws

(of) may your summer morning be bright

(but) this city is a chameleon

the wind beneath us

gather the weekday's leftovers

blued, bloodless, brooding

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - MTB:  Finding It First, hosted by Laura Bloomsbury.   The lines above are from the first lines of my first poem in each month of 2022.

the (uni)verse

 

why do we allow the frivolous to rust

our mind and spark ill thoughts to stain the night

have we forgotten, we're born of stardust

shaped from the turmoils of black wind's gust

scattering seeds to birth trees & wings to flight

why do we allow the frivolous to rust

our heart to stone, busy with erecting a gold bust

believing in our immortal blight

have we forgotten, we're born of stardust

sundered or whole, we will return to dust

our buildings & crowns will be lost bight

why do we allow the frivolous to rust

our will to froth instead of passion & lust

our warmth to ice, becoming a ghost of sprite

have we forgotten, we're born of stardust 

even if we have lost sight of sun's cradled fire

inside us is an imperishable light

why do we allow the frivolous to rust

us, have we forgotten, we're born of stardust

Posted for OpenLinkNight329 - dVerse Poets Pub - Hosted by Linda Lee Lyberg. Happy New Year!!!!!

my e-calendar 2023

I fill my work calendar with big stones. I organize my activities and set my career goals for 2023.  Family's birthdays and other milestones are colored in spring green.  Also my timetable for vacations & personal days from work are marked  in bright pink.    That block of time is precious, like a gift to be carefully unwrapped, slowly after each tear.  

However for my personal life's goal, the calendar is open.   I welcome the blankness of the canvas because it means new things and challenges for me.  Though I am keen on regularly walking, hiking and reading in my down time,  I invite time to ghost me, while I ponder on my verses & mystery of the night sky. 

mud-stained sky is glum

melting ice by craggy shore-

birds glide, swelling tide 

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Haibun Monday, hosted by Kim Russell.   Our poetry community is back! Cheers to 2023!