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!!!!!

The pomegranate garden

Unstitch my mouth of black threads & brine

Unbound my hands, I am in search of garden

I am marking with red seeds, this path, mine

Not on your ancient books or shrines

Not on your laws with heavy curtains

Unstitch my mouth of black threads & brine

Your morality police lacks spine

My voice, my face etched with burdens

I am marking with red seeds, this path, mine

Searching for my own power & shine

Your cruel blows kill - I can't pardon

Unstitch my mouth of black threads & brine

Do you fear that I will get out of line?

I am Eve and Anahita

I'm marking this body with red seeds, mine

With sacred twigs & water from the garden

I'll draw rockets, stairways, freedom

I unstitch my mouth of black threads & brine

I am marking with red seeds, this path, mine

The Pomegranate Garden,” acrylic on canvas mounted on shaped wood panels, 74 x 57 x 8 inches

Inspired by the Iranian artist, Arghavan Khosravi, Colossal.

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - OpenLinkNight.  Join us with your poem when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.  Have a good weekend!

Maybe A Missed Connection

It could have been, maybe, it might have been

Deep dive to sea of passion, leading to a chapel 

Who knows but the wind, spinning tales with grin

It began with friendly banter, light as pins

Harmless I thought, but for you, a secret, an apple

Oh - what could have been, maybes or ifs of 

Had you looked at me, not with a twinkle of a pal 

Had I taken a small bite of your blushing-red proposal

Who knows but the wind, spinning tales with grin

I remember your face, filled with sunlight, a bean

Shivering with energy, the look of an open book - I missed..

it.  It could have been, maybe, it might have been

Had you held my hand, so boldly in another time 

Spinning me in a dance, kissing me up my spine-

Whew!  Maybe the wind knew, spinning tales with grin

Rewinding the clock, our paths entwined

Would lead us - here - our hearts bespoked- 

It could be another tale to "might have been"

Only the wind knows, spinning tales with grin

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Poetics, After St. Valentine Left the Building, hosted by Sarah Connor.  Thanks for the visit.

April rain

you river me with life
stirring pulse gritted by sands
i bloom, wild as purple loosestrife

on grassy fields, i strive
leaving pathways of badlands
you river me with life

my scars receded, no longer strife
my bones knitted strong, see my hands 
blooming pink, as purple loosestrife

i potted thyme, parsley and chives
i kneaded bread, buttered thick in pans
you river me with life

with rain water fresh and rife
with dewdrops & sunsets, so grand
i bloom wild,  as purple loosestrife

past fades, withering dull knife
sky is gloriously hued, not bland 
you river me with life
i bloom, wild as purple loosestrife

Photo by Grace@Everyday Amazing

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Water, water everywhere with guest host Linda Lee Lyberg.  The theme we are to write about is life sustaining water, in any of its three forms- solid, liquid, or gas.  My poem is written in villanelle form as part of our Poetry Form.  Please join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.

the choir of spring

Fay Collins Art

paint me a mirage of purple and lilacs
to bouquet the sky of grey & icy nights-
spring awaits, choir of colors, firebox-

i watch the rain hammer the bare backs
of trees as sun billows behind bland whites-
paint me a mirage of purple and lilacs

my hands are tarred in disquiet sacs
viewing heads of dead roses, a fright-
where's spring, choir of colors, firebox?

my eyes are strained, seeing snow in cracks
of climbing walls & flower pots, knitted tight
is this season a mirage of purple and lilacs?

i count the hours where i'll sit on hammock,
read my books with slow pace and re-write 
spring's arrival with choir of colors, firebox-

the gem in my canvas of cottonwood & hemlock-
my footsteps turn to fancy and air light                                
paint me, in a mirror of purple and lilacs
as spring arrives in choir of colors & firebox!





An edited post for dVerse Poets - Villanelle, Poetry Form, hosted by Sarah Connors.   This is the 4th poetry form for dVerse and the link will be open for 1 month.   Join us with your villanelle.   

Night Sky

Night sky, shimmer your mirrors of light
Streak our path with meteor showers
Quarter moon is rising, silver knight

Crossing above winter's storm, so white
We hunt for arrows and spears of Gods
Night sky, shimmer your mirrors of light

We bring coins to buskers, ink to poets
We offer good tidings for a glimpse of heaven
Look, quarter moon is rising, silver knight

Heralding dancing shadows, colorful sight
We open our palms to catch bluish of circles
Night sky, shimmer your mirrors of light

Soon darkness with the longest hours 
Will come, drawing strings of new season
Quarter moon is rising, silver knight

We dream of spring tulips and sunflowers
But tonight, you're fullness, glorious tower
Night sky, shimmer your mirrors of light
Quarter moon is rising, silver knight


Posted for dVerse Open Link Night -  Thank you for your wonderful support and comments!!!   We are taking a break for 2 weeks.  Happy Holidays and Merry Christmas!!

A joyful celebration

his smile trembled, through pain & tears - Thank you!
to his sister & brother, children and wife
and his last breath, a sigh of gratitude

by hospital bed, they prayed over him, through
early hours, against despairing waves  
as his smile trembled, through pain & tears - Thank you!

his journey with chemotherapy, askew 
frail lungs drowning with water, knifing
breath to be his last, (still) a sigh of gratitude

with family cancer history, he knew   
time's reckoning with younger brother's demise-    
his smile trembled, through pain & tears - Thank you!

beloved family came to visit with no clues
his health was fast deteriorating, wise
till his last breath, we sigh of gratitude

a huge collage stood by his coffin - Adieu! 
a celebration, we'll remember his life,  
his smiles, despite the pain & tears - Thank you!
for his last breath, filled with joy, gratitude



Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Villanille Form, Hosted by Frank Hubeny ~  This is a 19 line poem with refraining lines.   For my poem, I alter the last lines, to give it a twist so it does not wholly become repetitive.  

About the Villanille Form:  The most striking thing about a villanelle is that it has two refrains (“A1” and “A2”) and two repeating rhymes (“a” and “b”). The first and third line of the opening tercet are repeated alternately as the refrains, until the last stanza, which includes both refrains.

With this, the pattern of the villanelle can be illustrated as as A1bA2 – abA1 – abA2 – abA1 – abA2 – abA1A2 where “a” and “b” are the two rhymes, and the upper case letters (“A1” and “A2”) indicate the refrains.

From end to end

over silt and stones, river runs
carrying smell of wood and pine-
silver mirror under midday sun

ducks promenade around farms 
as icy path breaks, shattered twine
over silt and stones, river runs

along familiar shores, stealthy as wind
teasing spring weather across fields
bone-silver under midday sun

every season, we cross over fallen logs 
as birds leave their nests and glide
over silt and stones, river runs

carrying songs from our past
weaving sugarcane & corn stalks to
golden mirror under midday sun

here, i start and end, with lungs
rooted with grains and seeds.  i tread
over silt and stones, the running river 
& i, mirrors facing under midday sun-

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Suburban Poem by Guest Host, Oloriel ~  Villanelle poetry form ~  I moved to the city (and country) but I have friends who have never left their small towns, preferring to retire in the same place, where we grew up.   Thanks for the visit ~

To the keeper of my nights

by Brooke Shaden

When the darkest of your nights come 
And moon hides its slumbering eyes
remember that you are loved

When your thin arms are pierced with pain
See how light climbs and peeks through sky
Even when the night is lit with darkest clouds

Open your palms in gratitude
I am here, beside you
Remember that you are loved

Even when your heart is failing as autumn leaf
And your words are stuttering, asking why
And when the darkness of the night will come 

And end your suffering, hold my hands
Let silence wrap us like seedpods
Remember that you are loved

Our memories comfort us 
like thundering rain on land so dry
When the darkest of your nights came
You remembered that you are loved



Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - I am going to miss you when you are gone ~  Hosted by Kelly Letky ~

Self-Portrait

                                                                        Artist in his Studio by Rembrandt


In the light, your face is half moon
Etched on canvas, unfurling
Shadows of restless sea, I see

Jagged lines, brittle as sand dunes
Browning hues, lush as autumn's swirling  
In the light, your face is half moon

Silver-lidded, a mirage of June's perfect skies 
But August's unflinchingly death stares
Bestow shadows of restless sea, I see

Your singular passion, your wounds
Glint of secret core, raw as unrefined salt
No light nor half moon can dim, a face

Inked in velvet-red strokes, a darkening to swoon
A master boldly unrepentant as eagle swooping its prey
There are shadows,  restless as sea, I see  

Deep despair from love's lost
Grieving hands from burying a child
In the light, your face is half moon

Celebrated by many, your signature is known
But you breathe on cliff's edge, a yearning 
to live amidst shadows, restless as the sea, I 

Look for your bones under church's tombstone
Marked for men, broken and poor     
In the dying light, your face pivots a full moon
throwing shadows to restless sea, I see.....         me


Posted for Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Ekphrasis - Hosted by Bjorn Rudberg
and Poets United - This started as a villanelle but I added more lines & didn't follow the rhyming scheme.    Thanks for your visits ~

After the storm wrecked our school

I write a poem under the tree
Buzzing with insects & blooming fruits
Each word a whirlwind on my knees

As I try to make it rhyme with bees
Half-listening to teacher's voice on rules & feuds
I write a poem under the tree

Scribbling in long strokes, black as tea
I ignore birds calling our secret names, hued  
Like buzzing insects and fruits blooming   

I count bleating of nearby goat herd
While sun mercilessly dry our throats
As I write a poem about this tree

Gnarled with thick torso like manatee  
Unbowed by storm, this tree's our school (a hoot)
Buzzing with insects & falling fruits

Chucking our heads, when our eyes flee 
To distant train puffs & sky goosed by jet's clouds
This poem is written under our tree
Buzzing with insects & blooming fruits

Picture credit:   here

Posted for:   D'verse Poets Pub - Hosted by Gabriella ~ I took a different approach to "going back to school" specially for poorer countries ~  Thanks for your visit ~

Night's beauty

Solar Eclipse
Photographer:  Amy Shore

Turn off the city lights
When the sun's belly sinks into the lake
Look skyward to drink the darkest of night

The moon is stitching a mantilla
Each thread emerald-grey, caught in aurora's spray
Turn off the city lights

The black velvet rose among the roses
Blooms, its single eye drowning every starlight
Look skyward to drink the darkest of night

Let the lone black bird
Spin-climb the clouds on south wind's tail
Turn off the city lights

Imagine celestial heaven baring
its purple womb, its milky strands
Look skyward to drink darkest of night

Let it descend, clear as spring
Water, rushing symphony of reverence
Turn off the city lights
Look skyward to drink darkest of night


Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Hosted by Mary ~  Free verse Villanelle ~

Dear White Knight

Sculpture by Stephen Fitz-Gerald

I have been missing you
-your silver lance & sword
Are you on your way to Camelot?

To fight for king's flag, royal blue 
To avenge wrongs denied, without rewards 
I have been missing you-

Your gallant words, fearless imbued 
Your firm grip on your shield of beliefs, a fort
Are you on your way to Camelot?

Has another lady won your heart in grief ?
The journey is long, forked with rivers distorted
I have been missing you

The winter's light is frail dew    
And my knees are cold kneeling on hard board 
Are you on your way?   To Camelot

Where the bravest of men fight & show 
Honor.  The tournament has started 
I am missing you
in Camelot.  Have you lost your way?


Yours truly,



Lady from Norwich (In) Distress

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub -  Theme is medieval tourney ~ Thanks for the visit ~

For Elijah

No one heard you cry
as you curled tight in corner, blue-cold
Have I been remiss?  I miss you-

your toothy grin, white shirt & boots
Too thin & frail for polar cold
No one heard you cry 

As your pulse slowed, repulsing icy wind
Your high-pitched voice now low, hollowed   
I miss you - Have I been remiss  

In locking tight the doors
In checking to make sure you are safe
No one heard you 

As you ran out, a rabbit excited about
Making snowman & drinking warm cocoa
Have I been remiss?   I miss you-

No one held your small face
and whispered good night, my little angel
No one heard your cries this morning
I've been remiss, missing you-

~0~0~0~

I heard no bird songs

nor laughter pink as your cheeks -

Ice had seeped in, black-

Yellow-rumped warbler by M. Bednar 

RIP Elijah Marsh, 3 year old toddler who died after 6 hours of wandering outside his family's apartment.  The last picture taken of him showed him wearing only a shirt, diaper & boots, as he stepped outside at 4 am.  His family discovered him missing from his bed at 7:30 am. The weather that morning was -30 C with the wind chill.   Source

Posted for Imaginary Garden for Real Toads - Play It Again - Haiku & M's Word List- Absent
and Poets United - A villanelle of a sort ~ Thanks for the visit ~

In the heat of local elections

Photography:   Joel Robison

We are pawns in this political game

moving to & fro, invisible faces

spinning left & right, our voices tamed

We are strings pulled by media blame  

running up & down, an endless chase   

Because we are pawns in this political game

We work dawn to night, trading our name

For grey, no black & white pieces

spinning left to right, our voices tamed

By street banners, which all look the same

We sweep aside real issues under the table  

Because we are pawns in this political game

Marching to orders, we claim

we are happy to live in this rich city, a place,          

spinning neither left nor right, our voices tamed

Tell me, black bird

which way is the voting booth ?

I am just a pawn in this political game

spinning round & round, my voice tamed

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub -  We are talking about news ~  Hosted by Mary ~ Thanks for the visit ~

The Mysterious Incident of Salmon during Autumn-time

October, Annual Sockeye Salmon Run, Adam's River, BC Canada 

This river is our primal mother

She beckons to us every year to spawn 

from Pacific Ocean, we hear her call like no other

We swim upstream against the swift waters

circling mountains to age-old forests drawn

by this river, she is our primal mother

Here, the mule deers & black bears wander 

Here, bald eagles & ospreys fly high, we return

from Pacific Ocean, we hear her call like no other

Coloring our skin red & roboust as summer

Into her arms, we lay down our heads come dawn

This river is our primal mother

She, who nourishes our offspring under

wise eyes of cottonwood trees.  She, whom we lean on-

from Pacific Ocean, we hear her call like no other

Gathered in one kinship, my brothers & sisters

hear the same natal beat pushing us on 

To this river, our primal mother

from Pacific Ocean, we hear her call like no other

The Adams River run occurs every year, but every fourth year (called a "dominant" year), the numbers are much higher. 2010 was the most recent dominant run. According to Canada's Department of Fisheries and Oceans, the Fraser River sockeye run of 2010 was the largest since 1913, numbering an estimated 34 million fish.

Posted for Imaginary Garden for Real Toads - Mini-Challenge by Kerry - In other words
and Poets United - Thanks for the visit ~ 

Photo credit:   here