the color of my days

i.  monday

white is the color

of regret, an un-

painted bowl left on table

ii. tuesday

i am color-

less sheet of blue static-

-unsent messages

-unfinished thoughts 

iii. wednesday

i can eat the sun-

flowers all day, but my

tongue is dragon fruit -

coloring the rain water pink 

iv. thursday

it must be the sand

or the sandpipers

how else can my mornings

be joy-struck, bicolored musings of sky 

vi.friday

i walk these city streets 

and see different shades of color 

from skin to hair to eyes-

i do not pretend to be colorblind

your story is different from mine

but it is the same ocean tides that 

powers your lungs & mine to go out

there & protest & march- 

vii.satuday

i read the 

books & albums

as if they sugar candies-

it was sticky with colorful memories

of the past

though its all in black and white

viii.sunday

and what of black?

it is erasure

it is sacrifice

not a color lacking 

a seed 

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - MTB Synesthesia.  Thanks for your comments and visits.

steps to my arrival (here)

 

Cut the twining cord quickly

with a sharp scissors

Use the cord clamp to stem 

the bleeding

It will not hurt (for now)

The scars will fold under my navel

As will my native tongue

sink to the bottom of my belly of fears

Learn the language of 

weather politeness of 4 seasons

Handle the etiquette

of fork & knife with ease

Still the waving hands as intuition

& glaze the summer skin to winter ice

Walk the balancing act

between following & not following

between listening & not listening

To myself & this pathway that I have

chosen, from brave idea to blistering reality

of starting over in a new country

a 360 degree turn

from one journey to another

Jump as if there is no bridge

to return to, 

Even if each detour, is a dead-

weight of self-blame 

Even if every mistake is a sword to

the carefully constructed excel timeline-

In the rearview,  

Plow along as elegant swans, with no outside 

signs of breaking point

What kept me sane, gentle as raindrops?  

 

Writing poems

A balm & thread to my turmoil

Strewn away as spinning dandelion fluffs

on a windy summer day, scattering

verses lead to stanzas, rhymed 

& unrhymed, each poem 

a journey to

Forgive & find myself

after patching & stitching faded lilac

blooms & falling autumn leaves to my sleeves-

I am (wholly) grateful

For marking 20 years in this land, we now call home

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub: Poetics:  Building from the Broken hosted by Mish.  Celebrating this day as our first day in Ontario, Canada with my family.  What a journey it has been! 

coward

you lied

when you brazenly told the new group

that you are wild & adventurous

one person took your word

& tested your boundaries-

he knocked at your hotel

door at midnight

you are new <here>

strangely, this city is brimming of cloves,

nutmeg & spicy hot peppers-

you are writing a new page

in this exciting theatre stop

your head is swimming with beer & crackers

enamored with the lure & lore, you

are making a a bold move

(in your head with clouds)

you plump up your plumeria-

misted pillows

& settle down deep in your bed, ignoring

the knocking at your door-

the phone ringing with urgency-

you recall that you are just a visitor here

& must go back to your home 

base later in the day-

your luggage & plane tickets are ready-

there are some doors that you 

need not open-

there are some bridge planks 

that you guesstimate is too short for you 

to land firmly on shores-  

you just prefer everyday life 

to be boring 

as a dissected frog-

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub- Poetics:  A View of One's Own, hosted by Dora.  Thank you for your comments and visit.