Yellowing

 

i am just chilling here

toasting the blue line gaze

cool breeze is licking my skin

warm as melting chocolate

my bumblebee car awaits-

i mellow down under the

dandelion-inspired umbrella

as if summer sun is cracking

spicy tortillas on my head

this blue chair will do

nicely as i people-watch-

sketching convervations in my head-

imagining where they are going to-

my glasses are sweaty

my shirt is sticky as a granola

i lost my lemon-trimmed sandals in sands

but it is fine - no map, no timeline

for the day, just a yellow bird

on my knee for company & cheer

this space is what i have worked 

for:    peace & rest

not burnt-out but clutter-free

in all the ways i deserve-

i am just chilling here

                                                        All Yellow (Morgan Hill), by Teresa Dunn

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub-OpenLinkNight, hosted by Lisa.   Thanks for your visits and comments.

walking on air

you said, this is the end

of me

the end of the road

-done-

there i was 

discarded, flinted by rust

but i found

fire from smoke

shape from debris

purpose from destruction

now, i am reaching

for the cathedral spirals

i walk on air

framing each steel lattice into

clouds of my imagination

my hands hammer my spirit

into works of art

-undone-

the road's end is ahead

for me

each ending is yet to be born

Inspired by the work of John Pai

Posteds for dVerse Poets Pub - Tuesdays Poetics: Endings hosted by Kim Russell. I took the approach of #4, end by going back to the beginning.

Join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.   Thanks for your visits and comments.

the owl and me

 

The owl gave me a book

I was excited to open it

Is it a book of wisdom?

So I can follow it, a river

ever flowing, a bird knowing

its way home

But when I read it, what came

To me is a cacophony of sad poems

The melancholy of death songs

The owl looks at me

His bulging eyes filled with questions

His huge body carved by half-moon

Unmoved by my restless hands

Then he points to me a pen

Nudging me to write my words

Listen to my tides & heartbeat

Grow my own feet & feathered wings

Map and unmap my journey

I want to fly to the sky, I say 

The owl is still, waiting for me

I scratch the pages with ink

I scour the edges with electric

moods and soulful dances

A flow of energy curls within, crisp as rain

I lose myself in the salt of verses

and valley of melodies and refrains

I forget where I am

Standing on a tree of life 

Singing to the wind - my song

Artist:    Catrin Welz-Stein

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - PoeticsdVerse Poets Pub - Poetics hosted by Lillian Hallberg.   Join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.   

wake up & touch the grass

i wake up in the morning waiting for the sun

to soften me, soft as linen, softer as mud pie

my fingertips are tapping, checking the blue sketch

of canvas, granite silver stones, the studs, the slow motion

of time, rocking me to stupor, here in my pink dress, white

socks, shoes off, floating, i twist my body to bend

into the hourglass of sweet complicity & simplicity

but this solid bed of recycled plastic is hard, my thoughts

run grey, spiral to crawl, crash, cramp__

i cannot move to lift myself off this loneliness, this rabbit hole_

tell me you care, tell me to touch green grass,

tell me to get off the phone & social media,   

this body swells of longing for rain, soil & seeds,

sounds of birdsongs, the smell of pine trees 

i want to drown in my dreams of clouds, as the sun 

softens me, soft as linen, softer as mud pie, sinking to earth 

María Berrío, Closed Geometry, 2022, 

paper collage and watercolor on linen, 72 1⁄8 × 90".

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - We are writing Ekphrastic Poetry based on the 3 artwork selected in the prompt.   Join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.  Thanks for the visits and comments.

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!

rocket man

 

let's wander under the skirts of the stairs

& the elbows of the turrets

& spiral down to the edge of the dark forest 

my blue suit is ready for flights of imagination

my hand draws axis on sun windows and 

arching bridges to nowhere points

i have pinpointed a planet-

a belt with a red moon and young stars-

i drink your green bowl of solace

as you zip up my meandearing compass

my launch lug is filled with your lush meadow

and melancholic dove songs

i am ready to blast off to  

the skelter helter sky & stardust

my moonflower queen-

you can be sure of one thing:

there is no home like

you

Credit:   Lee Madgwick

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - The strange houses of Lee Madgwick, hosted by Sarah.   This is my choice, among the 5 photos we are to write about.  Pub doors open at 3pm EST.

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.

one day

the sky will be a mushroom of blue butterfly wings

the ground will be tallowed with yellow pollen

the trees will be needled with green & pines

the streets will be lively with music

the buildings will be festooned with flags & kites

the church bells will peal with gladness

you will sing again with nightingales

dancing in your yellow skirts & teal hat

relish the family meal of beet soup with garlic bread

i will tally the days with light lamp

and jelly beans in my jar

keeping faith

the sun will keel the broken sails

and rise above the long shadows of grief, dust & dire

dappled light,

at the end of this tunnel, awaits you

Artist:   Vika Muse

“Freedom” – This artwork was made due to the hope, that we have the light at the end and the name of this light – is the Victory. That we will survive and rebuild our country.

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Poetics:  The Light of "Vika Muse", hosted by Mish.

We are getting inspiration for our words from Vika Muse.  Thanks for the comments and visits. 

Clothes

The wind beneath us

Misses our sweat, stains & messes

Rinsed in clean water

Scrubbed in soap & bleach

We jiggle & jam to be free 

Instead you pin our shoulders on

Lines with brown clips

Hooked our faces to marvel

The heat from this cloudless day   

Our bows are scattered across

Blues, pinks, blacks & whites

The sky watches the chorus

of birdsongs & buzzing bees

The green in the grass is new

You peer from the window

ready with your basket & starched hands

to fold us over your skin

Cotton-  softly sagging, frayed edges

Linen-  loosely wrinkled, stretched out

Smelling unabashedly - wind-kneaded, sun-baked -

Franz Marc, Flatternde Wäsche im Wind (1906)

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Poetics, March Wind Ekprastic, Hosted by Merril D. Smith.  Thanks for your visits and comments.

A Painter Without A Brush

 

the brush is a mongrel moon

a sop of soap stone, lump of foolish

grains in my hands, grey from winter

my fingertips are callous

unfeeling of any rhythm on canvas

i am slumbering shadow of dust

among the fine selections of books in garden

the sun brings a jingle of spring's eyes

as bouquet of wildflowers for the first

time & i am enamored with torrential clouds

of hues, shapes & hollows & tangent of words, whorls

of verses, as if famished, i drink it slowly

colors infuse & thrum, sharp as limes & lemons

my lips are basted by magenta & saffron spice

uncorked, honeycomb drips unabashed on ground

bees alight in morning blush of dewdrop

as if i am apricot tulip, budding rosy 

a new day, i 

am

Title from:  A Painter Without a Brush (Gerhard Richter)

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub -  Poetics:  The Poet as Painter,  Hosted by Laura Bloomsbury.   Please join us for a wonderful prompt at 3pm EST.

a bottle of summer

you prescribed me
walk by maple trees
slow dance by creek

look, the sun is holding
a ladle of soup
to ward off the blues

of autumn-
color the flowers
fiery red, marmalade gold- sum-

mer pulses, caught in your canvas-
scent of fresh geraniums 
with burn of your kiss

Artist:   Beverly Dyer

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Hosted by Michelle Beauchamp (Mish).  We are featuring the beautiful art work by Beverly Dyer.   Her sites:  https://artprescription.com/  
ETSY shop     

Midsummer

The brightness of the sun
burns my eyes
sandpaper red
I bite on my anxiety
instead of bread
Midsummer comes
ailing me with despair
grey as storm clouds

Dusk came, full of moths
and beetles
I was oppressed by the velvety
gleam of moon
emptiness of the world
and swathes of soft grass
Then the silence of the night
lulled me to sleep

When I woke up,
I was covered by dewdrops,
smell of honeysuckle awakening
the hunger in me


“Darkness came, full of moths and beetles. I was oppressed by the velvety emptiness of the word and swathes of soft grass. Then the fumes of the night put me to sleep” (As I walked out one Midsummer morning)

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Literary Alchemy with Laura Lee, hosted by Laura Bloomsbury.

garden of dreams

i don't want to be still & yellow, a thing in blue
light, no, i want to run into the fathomless sky

i hear the heart beats of agile wild cat
beneath city lights, my breathing catches windspell

my mind is a distressed canvas at end of train ride
but by night, i garden words under spell of moonflower

i write down a word or line, let it sit & frolic 
in clouds, climb trees - carrying my cup of yearnings

it may seem like a little thing, but it's no secret-
walking with flowery hat brings out smiles, sudden sunset

Flowering Mindscape

Art by Jackie Hurlbert

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Meet Jackie Hurlbert, hosted by Charmed Chaos, Linda Lee Lyberg.  

flawed designs

you saunter out 
                     of my depressive mind,
deformed idea
                     muddled in nest of cobwebs
your claws growing 
                       from seed, searching
for warmth
                     or for shaft of light
I hide you from 
                          sunshine and moon- 
eyes of strangers  
                        how could anyone 
assemble you like I do   
                                         
you, tarnished with flaws 
                     of all my failed designs   

yet beholding you, 
                              i collect 

every exhale 
                          of red-veined maple leaf
every scar 
                        of rippling river tide
every wings 
                          of promising butterflies
every verse   
                        unsaddled by violent wind 
                                                                 falling 

Images by Colossal:   Haunted Bodies by Christina Mrozik

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Beauty in Ugliness, hosted by Mish.  Join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.   Thanks for the visit.

a note to myself

of what good this is, if you don't take chances
put yourself out there- you are more than 
quintessential frame, your quirky quotes
resound the room with your sass and humor
splash your face with autumn's vibrant hues-
this day, you step away from shadows

Credit:  Colossal:   By Diet Wiegman

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Alphabet Sestet, hosted by Lillian Hallberg.  This poetry form is a sestet, 6 lines, whereby the first letter of each line, follows a sequence of an alphabet.  Any alphabetical sequence may be used: writer’s choice! Join us when the pub doors open at 3pm.  Thanks for the visit.

Prism

your sky is lavender 
and curlicue of colors
         rose auburn, dark pink, teal
threading through tapestry
of rye knots and countless loops

you think of raspberry 
                                  thoughts
on a long solitary flight
you smell sour apples in
                                  unfinished songs

taste stings of wasp and exotic spices 
           in warblings of guitar hymms
                  
as you dab your vision on canvas
your skin is luminous
growing light between layers
of  unsaturated darkness, 
                                        shades
you never settle 
                          in

            Synesthetic Artist, Melisa McCraken

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - OpenLinkNight - Share a poem and visit at the poetry pub.  Doors open at 3pm EST.  Thanks for the visit.

Mirror of blue

Calm this blue heart

Through water-clogged days, grassy blights- 

Calm this blue heart

With buds and songbirds for a start

Gilding sky with gold color, sight

Of robust sun, beckoning light-

Calm this blue heart 

Fay Collins Art

Posted for OpenLinkNight of dVerse Poets Pub - Poetry form is a Rondelet.  Join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.   Thanks for the visit.

where is the choir of spring?

Credit:  Fay Collins Art

grab me a mirage of purple and lilacs
to bouquet the sky of grey & icy nights-
spring awaits, choir of color, fiery topaz-

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

my hands are tarred in disquiet
viewing soggy heads of dead roses, black-
where is spring, choir of color, fiery topaz?

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 days where i'll sit on hammock,
read my books with slow pace and re-write 
spring's arrival, choir of color, fiery topaz-

the gem in my canvas of cottonwood & hemlock-
my footsteps turn to fancy and air light                                
paint me a mirage of purple and lilacs
spring awaits, choir of color, fiery topaz!



Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Hosted by Sarah Connor on the artwork of Fay Collins.  Villanelle poetry form (19 Lines).   We had ice storm over the weekend and its already the middle of April.    Thanks for your visit.

Right under our feet

young man boards a full train
   holding a small pot of green, sapling-


sparking color in room of grey scarves,
   black coats and winter boots


i daydream of sleeping seeds
   & blankets of sunshine & cups of tea


a white-haired couple stands near me,
    talking animatedly, as if they are


in their own garden, reading the
    same book & she has stars


in her eyes as he leans in to
    kiss, lover in the intimate space--


their twining hands remind me 
   that spring does not vanish at winter's breath


but is blossoming
   everywhere-

By Sharon Knight

Credit:  SunEarthSky

Posted for dVerse Open LinkNight - Join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.  Thanks for your visit.  

tickled pink-

Do you see her
striped pink bottoms 
sitting on couch
bubbly cuddly? 

Do you hear her
giggles, squeals
while slurping juice
from my cooler?

When I tell her
Move!  She wiggles
munching popcorn
so happily

I must be daft:
I'm the only one
who sees elephant
in the room, grin-
ning ear to ear.

Elephant in the Room by Ally Saunders

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Hosted by Mish, Featuring Artist Ally Saunders.   Going for a light hearted poem after reading the sad depressing news in our world today.   

Thanks for the visit!