Traveler's heart

Give me 

autumn's billowing wind

Ruffling falling leaves to wet canvas 

I am blue butterfly trifling the wheat fields

Up north, I travel to gaze snow-capped mountains

Down south, I gather shells & listen to sun-lit chimes

I flicker back and forth between cities and seasons

To the east, I drink green tea & feast on pink lotus

To the west, I sip ripe wine & study cathedrals

My luggage is not yet filled of souvenirs

 With colorful shirts and silver spoons 

Like clouds, I will not rest, not yet

For I have a traveler's 

   w
       a
           n
               d
                   e
                     r
                l
       u
s

                                                 t

Photo Credit:   Brooke Shaden


Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Poetics:   Tangled in Traveler's Heart

Shape of the Moon on Easter Morning

is fading 
above willow tree
sky is chameleon cloud
grass is  white-frosted dust
as you turn,  gleaming half-spoon
crescent shadows chalk your body in mist-
i scatter egg-chocolates to find amid jars & pots-
perhaps i should be a beekeeper instead &  fill your holes 
with dead leaves, bark chips,  fallen pine cones, bird seeds-
my hands flutter to catch lingering stars & dewdrops 
as orange-breasted birds tiptoe-hop on twigs-
i wait for words to become visible on page
like i wait for spring to pour its honey
& green-wax barren maple trees- 
i know the harvest is
beautiful as new-
born dawn

Posted for Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Shape Poetry
and Shared with Poets United - Happy Easter !!!

She said, "Love your tree!"

So my 
feet grew 
roots deep & mighty 
ropes to anchor a ship 

And my belly heard earthquakes
& animal cries before fear could strike

And my fingers trembled like a leaf when
 when you rested under my shade of  blooms  

And my thighs became strong to wrap  around 
the man  & hold him here, and my breasts heavy

with milk  dripped  before my child  could utter a cry  
And my hands soft as feathers nurtured the fire of nests 

My  spine tingled  with distrust and healed with care 
and  my bones  heard  darkest of  storms coming

 Under every line, freckle & wrinkle, I relished:  
seeds, sap, cracks, decay & fruits 

Then, I echoed back 
mother's words :
   
I love my tree! 

Update:   This has been selected as Poem of the Week by Poets United


“The body knows things a long time before the mind catches up to them. I was wondering what my body knew that I didn't.” 

― Sue Monk Kidd, The Secret Life of Bees

Posted for Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Sunday's Challenge
Shared with Poets United

And I thought of sharing this lovely poster ~

Credit:   TreeSisters

When it's the real thing

I'd like to buy 

the world a poem 

for all 365 days, I

will not keep it 

company but will 

let it tumble, rip, 
crash, hobble, run,

slam, burst as autumn 

red leaves drifting by 

the river canal, falling 

over bridges & archways

until the verses settle down:  

a torchlight, bell, majestic river.

I'd like to give the world a view:

happiness, not bought & sugared,

nor snowed white as turtle doves

but simple yellow morning bloom.

Then I'd teach the world to sing  

in perfect harmony with trees, 

with each fading leaf color and 

passing clouds. Because there's a

poem to be found even in empty

road, lonely mountain, rainy days,

rusted can, or walking hand in hand.

Life tastes good when you keep it real. 

Picture credit:  Daaynos

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub ~  Poetics by Brian Miller ~ I have used an old Coke commercial (I'd like to teach the world to sing) as a framework for my poem ~  I have been away on business conference in the beautiful Ottawa city this week so it's nice to write again ~ Thanks for the visit.
Shared with Poets United ~

at night, unboxed

                                               I  wake  up,    fetal   position  in  bed

                                               Before  the  alarm  promptly rings 3x

                                               A  list  of  things  to  do  in  my  head  

                                               The  day looks neat as a   cereal  box,

                                               And   roads  dilute in the rain,     driv-

                                               ing, a man crosses the street:7:27 am

                                               & I will always make that traffic stop/

                                               deja  vu unfolds as I go the office, file

                                               & type, straight-jacket inside my cube.   

                                               Cars & trucks  zip  & zoom,  marching 

                                               outside my window, same beat, 100+

                                               kph down the freeway.  During lunch

                                               break,  I peer                                  outside.

                                               The trees & flowers are bright in their  

                                               plant boxes.   Plastic tables dot along  

                                               the mirror walls.   Time snails,   linear

                                               in my phone & laptop.   Some/ /times

                                               words press & simmer, then  fade  2x-

                                               driving straight home.           The night  

                                               sparks my thoughts,         out   of   the   shadows,   
              
                                               weightless as seeds on my eyelids,    f  r  a  g i  l  e,

                                               as silk

                                                          worms,  c r aw l i n g           

                                                                                                o u  t       o   f

                                                                                                                            t  h  e

                                                                                                                                        b o x.

            

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - This is my typical work day and writing is done in between & mostly at night.  I basically used numbers, city sounds, shapes & formatting my words on the page.   Let me know what else worked for you ?   Thanks ~

Picture credit:   Silvia Grav

Awakening

           

                                                   Yellow-frayed memory

                                                   Cutting deep wounds

                                                   Black inferno

                                    Twisting sky                               

                                    Into backward time relapse             

                                    Dripping melancholy

                                                  Gather them all  

                                                  Ink and pen, cloud seeds  

                                                  Verses, red    

                        Stories, orange           

                        White escape

                        Revitalizing spirit

                                                 Awakening eyes

                                                 Magical

                                                                journey

Posted for Imaginary Garden with Real Toads :   In 35 words

and Poetry Jam:  Magic

picture credit:   here