autumn musings

 

who braided willow’s hair and left a shoe? 

a question sways beneath October’s breath. 

sky flickers blue where red and gold shine through, 

the sun drifts slow along the edge of death

each leaf unbuttons light the season knew

crab apple tree binds glass in morning grains

as if the sea once hummed beneath its veins.

the forest ferns hold silence in its sleeves

soft needles fold the world in tender chains

what does earth dream on, beneath fallen leaves?

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Poetry Form is Dizain.   Thanks for visiting and commenting!   

Credit River

 

the river's mouth is wide open 

gently pulsing tides under autumn's

foliage of maple and oak trees

along trail ways auburn & chestnut

fallen leaves, we go

downwards, downwards

listening to shrills of wood peckers 

and birdsongs from the robins &

Blue Jays, riotous beavers & frogs

leaping, leaping

along with salmon and trout

swimming from rocky broad bend

to marsh of cattails, weeds & grass

peak season is here

our fishing rods & paddles

swirling, swirling

to catch the harvest of the season

from this land we call home

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Dipping our Poetic Paddles, with guest host, Truedessa.  Thanks for visiting and commenting.

the sleeping gypsy

the heat of the desert

calms my body to sleep

tired bones slump on red sands

sun-shifted by blue sky

moon rises silvery

above snow-capped mountains

begging me to play and

dance with my mandolin

but i am kicking coins

and cares away, stillness

wrapped by brown earth

ignoring the curious lion

where goes my dreaming

i say, where my gypsy

feet & heart are free &

wild - there, here i am 

 

The Sleeping Gypsy

by Henri Rousseau (1897)

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

travel notes

 

empty

my pockets are

not, not when red leaves fall

on fern-bogged trails, my hands gather

feathers,

pinecones,  

blue-green river 

tides, snow-capped mountains, trees,

birdsongs, sky's blue, my chest swelling-

joy-packed

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - MTB:  Cinquains Revisited, hosted by Bjorn Rudberg.  Thanks for your visits and comments.

autumn

 

my face, blank canvas 

my body, sand and stone  

until

you unlock me:

riddles, stories, rings, colors

your beating heart

is my green flag, furling sorrows 

to songs, stamping the sky 

blue, rubbing saffron & spice

on every blurred page of my book-

my northward wind

you gift me:  autumn's eye

drawing character lines on my face

my wrinkled hands hold closely

pot of red olives & spring seeds, i   

am 

sailing deeper & further across tides 

& mountains

with you

Ismael Nery - Infinity

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - OpenLinkNight - Please join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.  Thanks for your visits and comments.

August morning

is cooler, than last week's steady

torching of the garden & parks

on the kitchen table are summer's produce:

juicy peaches, ripe mangoes, melons, berries

from the nearby grocery store, including

pots of rosemary, basil and lemon grass  

the gifts from summer also include

home grown flowers from marigolds

to zinnias, whose seeds i will carefully

zipped up for next spring's planting

i love watering the back garden,

mesmerized by the sprinkling waterdrops

and even now that its a bit cooler,

i love the green lushness of the fields

savoring each rain downpour   

as maple leaves are slowly turning brown

what we planned at the start of year

has given us a clear direction:

this home is more precious than ever-

our spring's sale showing did not materialize

which turns out to be blessing after all

as i slowly hang up paintings, unpack kitchen gadgets 

from the garage, arrange a vase, curtains

cushions, bed coverings, books that

give our space a unique look

not the ubiquitous bland "perfect for sale home"

i breathe it all until plant questions intrude:

when to bring back all the tropical 

plants indoors?

and where to fit them all in our living room?

Posted for the dVerse Poets Pub - Poetics - Where do we go from here? Hosted by Melissa Lemay.  Thanks for your comments and visits.

untitled [summer]

 

summer

my balcony of zinnias-

blooming pink, red and tangerine 

an empty nest

amidst the birdsongs, i scatter the sun

flower seeds

Summer 2025

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - MTB, A Revisit with The Cherita, hosted by Merril Smith.  Thanks for your visits and comments.

Riverwood

tall red maple leaves are inviting

we walk inhaling the cool light

moss, wood ferns, wildflowers edging 

our pathway of pebbles & grass 

we pass the storm-struck fallen tree

scattering bark, a haven shed

for chipmunks, squirrels, buzzing bees

and birds with wings of black & red

terrain is rugged yet wood-soft

at the credit river, we marvel-

wood duck, mallard, and blue heron

catching fish & blueing sky joyful

Riverwood, Mississauga City, Ontario

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Let's Take a Walk in the Woods - Thank you for your visits and comments.

imposter syndrome

i am going bananas

over my empty bag

i take out my fishing rod & reel

and cast the line over the lake 

it is summer & sun

has blued & sparkled the shore

stones, sands, pebbles, low tide

i take it

crackles, bouts of silence, birdsongs, sweat

running down my back

a tremor pulses

and i reel in the line to look at my catch

is it lost door key? 

is it freshwater salmon?

or maybe a lost train ticket?

nope

it is the shape of 

a woman's torso

robust, unpretentious, glorious

the randomness is serendipity

the nothingness is everything

and this sits right with me:  

lens of the uncertainty of the poet

                       The Uncertainty of the Poet

                                                   Giorgio de Chirico

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - OpenLinkNight.  Please join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.   Thank you for your comments and visits.

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.