Summer Meadow

the morning mist rolls away

budding blooms & sage leaves sway

summer blends the sky soft griege

painting everything so new:

field of violets, vulgar & vicacious

startled eyes of deers, clear as raindrop

meet our city's rust, filling the shadows

of our sadness & grief, time slows

our footprints fade amidst the wort 

our words mingle with wild flowers 

we discovered our peace & backs

in the silence of wayward tracks

we inhale the growing heat, blessed

that we have found a moment of rest

 

 by Carl Zimmerman, Deer in the Summer Meadow

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub- Sun, Sand, Storms and Celebrations:  Summer Ekphrastic, hosted by Merril D. Smith.  Join us when the virtual pub doors open doors open at 3pm EST.

Unmasked, I am

i am unfurled leaf of unpublished book
my verses kited in clouds, imperfect meter 
i peer through half opened windows of houses as
if i am reading diaries & dissecting poems 
my thumbs are green now after being house bound
as my indoor plants & herbs, counting each new
root as if i am new mother, not a soon-to-be empty nester
during winter, i cover myself in peat moss &
lock away my thirst & my thirsty roots
my affirmation is spring, my music is summer
i want to join a sisterhood of chocolate lovers 
i will gladly hug you in a bubbled curtain with latex gloves 

though i have limbered numbers in excel spreadsheets
unmasked, i am sonneteer coaxing beats out of air

Grace @ Begonia Rex

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub:   Meeting The Bar, I am, The First Person Narrative.   Please join us when the pub door opens at 3pm EST.

For today's MTB, compose a poem using “I am…” with a First Person narrative in any part of your verse.  Go experimental and creative with your “I am” poem.

In expressing our “I am” poems, I encourage you to go beyond the usual descriptions of “I am” (a brother, sister, friend, citizen) and go experimental and creative with your “I am” poem. Think inanimate object, animal or groups of animals, planets and inter-galactic travel, streets, cities, plant, tree, or weekday or month or year, or even pandemic terminology.

Sugar

I was born to the land of sugar canes
Sap of fresh harvest is perfume in the air
Spooning treats of sweet yams & coconut 
milk were rituals of comfort, joys on rain- 

dreary days, I would rather pass the soup, 
go for candied fruits, fruit tarts, bowls of ice- 
cream.  My tongue twisting to the searing rush 
My toes curling in, content as sleeping cat 

But the sugary madness kept dark secrets 
Adding heft, raising risk of diabetes, 
cancer, cavities.. list is blast of winter ice
No more, I have since reduced, cut down, faced 

Away, as if it was a lover spurned 
Repulsing the sweet kiss, that I once craved





Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Confessional Poetry, hosted by Anmol (alias HA).
Thanks for the visit.

Forget-me-flowers

We chat over tea and maple biscuits 
as carnations & lilies deck the minutes
Your lips are red petals, fawning  
While my feet are wings, flitting 
happily as moths amongst tulips  
You pin a white clover into your hair
And tuck blue violets on your wrists 
Overhead, deadly nettle stings my neck
Igniting inside me, darkness, growing fire
Of barberry and yew - I'm sorry I can't offer you
the sweetness of roses, light of sunflowers
Here, take back all the flowers

And forget me, as I disappear, a scud
in the sadness of half-moon, shriveling bud

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Poetics - The Language of Flowers, hosted by Sarah Connors.  You can check for more information of the flowers and their meaning here.
Please join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.  Thanks for your visit.

of tangerine dreams

i see your smile, shy-tangerine grin
behind the crab apple tree, sunset-stilled
you move slowly to pluck the ripe 
bearing fruits, licked by summer rain 

i taste wine & olives as i walk towards you 
but you're turning to a blur, mist of clouds
my feet are turning to quicksand as
you fade away, dreamscape in a fog-

how quickly i forget, time has hidden you
from me- you, fiery fire of my canvas-
you, deepest blue lake of my thoughts-

every night, even with my eyes closed
i can trace your face with my fingertips,
my love, sleep, until we meet again-

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Free verse sonnet hosted by Bjorn Rudberg.  Join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.  Thanks for the visit.