coward

you lied

when you brazenly told the new group

that you are wild & adventurous

one person took your word

& tested your boundaries-

he knocked at your hotel

door at midnight

you are new <here>

strangely, this city is brimming of cloves,

nutmeg & spicy hot peppers-

you are writing a new page

in this exciting theatre stop

your head is swimming with beer & crackers

enamored with the lure & lore, you

are making a a bold move

(in your head with clouds)

you plump up your plumeria-

misted pillows

& settle down deep in your bed, ignoring

the knocking at your door-

the phone ringing with urgency-

you recall that you are just a visitor here

& must go back to your home 

base later in the day-

your luggage & plane tickets are ready-

there are some doors that you 

need not open-

there are some bridge planks 

that you guesstimate is too short for you 

to land firmly on shores-  

you just prefer everyday life 

to be boring 

as a dissected frog-

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub- Poetics:  A View of One's Own, hosted by Dora.  Thank you for your comments and visit.

a one-day business trip

the train brings me

back alleys of the city buildings

graffiti walls of neglected streets

wheels bound to the south roads

i revel  at the open spaces

of fields green & yellow

of trees lording it over the

rolling empty landscape

the train brings me

to new city with different

highlights & views

the towns are small packages

to be unwrapped with care

the folks who live here

know the folks who are just

passing by, who is 

watching whom from the windows?

the train is a moving bridge

or am i the train

moving foward

and moving backward

after business is done

i note the small stores,

narrow roads, even narrower lanes

wildflowers greet you

as time slows down

my pulse mellows down to rest

the train brings me

perspective the colors of autumn

a nostalgia of the simplicity of life

in a small city & towns

but also a realization that i am

very much a big city person

i calculate the distance from home

in terms of verses i 

pen waiting for the final 

station stop

 

Posted for the dVerse Poets Pub, Poetics, Travelling by Train - Hosed by Punam.  Thank you for your visits and comments.

Wings

you stride with your walking stick
left to right, left to right, along corners
up the stairs & alleys
along subway doors

i can't imagine what you may not see-
not this winter season full of greys 
but the magic of spring
you
young gazelle, 
raising your face to raindrops

i know you believe in angels 
though
you see, i see not one, not two but many
hands, including myself 
reining you from falling onto the tracks
guiding you along
wishing you nothing but good
tidings 
along your journey 

white hawk on tree

silent sentinel on the watch-

my morning, a gift-

Posted for dVerse OpenLinkNight.   Happy Thanksgiving to our US friends!  Thanks for joining in when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.

Postcard from Old Quebec

My steps
are a mere whisper
on these narrow streets
cobbled with ruined stones
Sounds of the past
reverberate
above the silent cannons & flags 
of Citadelle of Quebec
in time with
changing of the guards
in bright red coats

Here is the city
site of battles
& different civilization
over 100 years ago
preserved like an old postcard
Standing on Dufferin Terrace
I marvel at the
lush gardens
European architecture of towers,
charm of old doors & window arches,
quaint lodgings & cozy restaurants

The gem of all 
is to view
the majestic 
Chateau Frontenac
overlooking Lawrence river is
to behold a gigantic palace in sky
I am a child
awed
listening to history
unraveling & retracing-
so I may
know the bosom of my
new motherland

Chateau Frontenac, viewed from across Lawrence River

Quebec City

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Adventures in Travelling - I have been to this city twice, and I highly recommend it.   Thanks for the visit ~

Where there is an open road

black birds fly in the direction of the sun 
and stars, their ancient eyes following a spun
pattern, magnetic as seasons ripen & snap-
we pave roads as if we are marking maps
around mountains, rolling hills & green fields-
here's the compass where wind moves, a silk    
as we tally miles & clock station's voices-
but it is the road that draws & maps our faces

Image by Ed Fairburn

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Hosted by Bill ~  Thanks for the visit ~

Travelling between cities

I.  

Sounds from mosque at dawn wakes me up.
It is the first of the five prayer times dividing time
into tidy rooms filled with mats, bodies 
kneeling, prostrating facing Mecca, the holy city.

   
     as sun circles the sky,
     i marvel at different face
     of God 
       

II. 

Here, mountains frame the city in blue
Here, deep ocean crush shells to fine sand 
Here, forest park cradles ancient totems  

    
    to highest valley
    i soar with wind, content 
    with my eagle's wings 
   


III.

Your skin is musky earth
In your native language
Even saying good morning 
Sounds like an invitation 
To go somewhere & everywhere

       my tongue rolls new words 
           no, not melted butter 
           but spice, flaming my guts- 


IV.


I saw the biggest waterfall
its mouth, a womb of life 
I gazed at fabled city steeped
in 18th century stories
I travel to know the history
of my new country - 

          still, my luggage is filled 
         with jasmine leis and one map-
         you

If I have a boat, I will sail to you

Photography:   Joel Robison

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub -  We are talking about travel poetry~  Hosted by Gabriella ~