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.

summer's end

from seed, you grew tall

orange cupcake flower

i wanted you to bloom forever

but summer's end is here

[pause]

spin me out of summer blues

as flowers turn deep sun-blood

slow decay by wind chill-  

dying/dyeing

ink, garden these verses  

[within me]

Zinnia, Orange Cupcake

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub- Quadrille #207 Poem Spin Cycle, hosted by De Jackson.  The chosen word is SPIN to be used in this 44 word count poem.  Thanks for your comments and visits.

the clarion call from the mountains

i see you, bighorn sheep

on the steep mountain ledge and crevice 

your hooves fitting & climbing

through rocky terrain, stealthy as poet's muse

[what is so grand about you?]

you carry your large horns, smouldering spirals

as stately crown as your rich summer brown coat

your watchful gaze is steady

on the wide field of grass & clover & sage

oak and fir trees dot along the unpaved roads

where predators prowl waiting

for your missteps & fall

[can you remind me what is so special about you?]

you are patient as the slow moving clouds

watching the blue sky expanding, unfenced & unguarded

as your wild heart, beating to the call of northern winds

there is a sacred 

pact between you 

and the mountain gods

[i respect it and wait for the clarion call]

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub- Creatures of the Blank Space, hosted by Dora.  Years ago, we visited the Banff Mountains in Alberta, Canada, where we saw the Bighorn Sheep by the mountain sides.   They are spectacular creatures with massive horns.

Sign post by the sea

He woke up with storm             {seeds} in his mouth 

It tasted glitttery loud as birds. Brewing 

                                                                 with <wild possibilities>. 

His eyes gleamed with excitement of moon flowers.  Whatever known can wait,

But this intangible stillness cannot 

                                                           even if his legs were shaking with vertigo

Hands trembling, he grabbed his coat.  The freezing wind recoiled & fluttered as fallen tulip 

petals.    The sky was cleaning 

               out the                     stars &          last quarter               moon.

The crucible weighed on his chest, 

awaiting

                   the pouring by his hand.

                                                                                                      >>>>>       Instead

He went to sea                  in a thimble of poetry.

Credit:  “He went to sea in a thimble of poetry.”- Poet Warning, Jim Harrison

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Poetics:   Songs of the Unreason hosted by Linda Lee Lyberg.  Thanks for the visit and comments.

secrets of the moon

the night draws its own
delicate calligraphy on velvet sky

the flock of birds follow the invisible
lines, bows and arcs 

i roll over the letters
wafer thin as fading leaves & catch

the breeze of winter ice & maple trees-
what is hollowed, whitened out blank page

expands and surges out with fullness-
though i try, i can never grasp 

the moment's infiniteness 
the perfect arrangement of words

and that may be a good thing  
lost in mystery 

you rub stardust on my palms
and whisper your secrets 
                                        to the moon



Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - "Secrets" Poetics hosted by Merril D. Smith.   Join us when the pub doors open by 3pm EST.

when the muse is in/out of sync with the moon-

i got passionfruit
    road-raging my throat

i want to spit it out
    a drake-inspired pop song

or a gluten free vegan cake
    by Rashmi's Bakery

but instead it goes down
    my bile & belly, ignites

all my anxieties, stirs up
    seasonal blues as crystal moon

rises from the seawater 
    & muse,  earth-bound

splutters ink, burns the air
    with bright bluish green flames-

zinc 
    of all my silvery dreams 



Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Poetics - Let's Get Elemental- Hosted by Sarah.  Join us when the pub doors open by 3pm EST.   

A Poet's Rhapsody

I.

A poem is a raindrop in mid-
                                          dle of my run-
ning thoughts, a riddle at
                                       tip of my tongue-
                    a symphony of fleeting words-
a flash of white wings above trees-



II.

A poem is you
                       between heart-
                                              beats-
      -core, mantle, skin  -
                       shadowing move-
                                               ments-      
I run
Not to trap you in the page  
But hurl you back
                       to starless & moonless
                                                sky-



III.

A poem is roar
               sound searching in its intensity
                                 amplifying thunder run
               reaching climax
only my ears 



Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - MTB Ars Poetica, hosted by Paul John Dear.   Please join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.  Thanks for the visit.

Fishing for the moon

You are the fisherman crouching- 
rod, reel, cast nets, tackle, pliers- 
wearing boots and jacket to ward off
the chill of cold misty morning

Your face is quartered by floppy hat
with every flick and spin of your line
we are drawn to your bait 
until we're hooked to your side

You read our faces by single lamp 
Undisturbed by our weighty life dramas
But the funny thing is
you never reel us in, inside
your darkness, your mountains of mystery- 
your net is empty by dawn
as if you're satisfied with what you have-

we catch ourselves
waiting for your boat every midnight
always at a measured distance
content with star-gazing,  
feeding us with your flickering light,
and our dreams of a hundred cranes in sky






Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Poetics:   Moon-muse.  Please join us when the pub opens at 3pm EST.  The prompt is to write about the moon as person.

Inside//Outside my Head

This poem lives outside my head
It strikes at the edges & wallows
in unfinished business, cusps &
in between, backspaces & deleted words

It enjoys rowdy street crowds
and music blaring from the young man
tapping his fingers on keyboards as if
he's in a concert instead of subway stop

Sometimes it jogs early morning alone
in the beach or park, lost in its verses
unmindful of time, who comes nosing close
like an eager puppy waiting for a treat  

Some nights, it sips margarita & refuses
to rhyme, preferring to tango & sway to
hot salsa music & restless feet, until 
shoes & restraint are forgotten in the mix

It collects broken & forgotten things
as if they are treasures instead of junk 
During winter, it presses its cheeks
against my shivering bones, croaking  
'Here's the kerosene, light that fire!'

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - OpenLinkNight - Thanks for the visit ~ 
picture credit:   here