celebrating trees

smell of pine trees, under half-moon

wafts citrus, musky as burnt wood, 

we inhale deeply fragrant breeze

recalling season of spring - soon                                         

soft are needles veiled in deep freeze

under half-moon, smell of pine trees

dark sap, scooped earth, trickling slowly

of zest, upon pine cones wholly 

fresh.  we make ardent wish:  peace, berth

under maple trees - brown, closely

tuffed by light, we witness green birth-

trickling slowly-  dark sap, scooped earth 

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Poetry Form is Sparrowlet.  

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

Maybe A Missed Connection

It could have been, maybe, it might have been

Deep dive to sea of passion, leading to a chapel 

Who knows but the wind, spinning tales with grin

It began with friendly banter, light as pins

Harmless I thought, but for you, a secret, an apple

Oh - what could have been, maybes or ifs of 

Had you looked at me, not with a twinkle of a pal 

Had I taken a small bite of your blushing-red proposal

Who knows but the wind, spinning tales with grin

I remember your face, filled with sunlight, a bean

Shivering with energy, the look of an open book - I missed..

it.  It could have been, maybe, it might have been

Had you held my hand, so boldly in another time 

Spinning me in a dance, kissing me up my spine-

Whew!  Maybe the wind knew, spinning tales with grin

Rewinding the clock, our paths entwined

Would lead us - here - our hearts bespoked- 

It could be another tale to "might have been"

Only the wind knows, spinning tales with grin

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Poetics, After St. Valentine Left the Building, hosted by Sarah Connor.  Thanks for the visit.

Monday's list

pastel pink and aqua blue tints

slowly nibble away heavy fog of winter greys

look:  caterpillar of clouds

on cusp of blossoming

there is joy in mindfulness:      

quietude of mornings

crisp air from pines, maple trees

smell of warm buttered toast with fruity smoothie

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - hosted by Mish. Quadrille is a post of 44 words, with the chosen word, nibble.   Join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST. 

Heavy Snowfall

                                            

Sleeping Maple Trees

 

blued, bloodless, brooding

is the sky, my hands savor

mapled squash, wild berries

Credit

I currently live in Canada for the last 17 years.   While we are burried under winter snow right now, earth gifts are warm & colorful.   I look forward to the late winter when the maple syrup would be taken from the maple trees.

Now, we are in the deep of the winter season and everything is iced over the  field and garden in Ontario, Canada.   The color of the sky even at night is white, reflecting the winter ice below.    Spring is still far away (April).  Yet we have fruits like squash, carrots and blue & red berries to bring color to our meals.   I also make a lot of soup from squash and the other root vegetables.  Maple syrup is part of our baking and drinks (instead of using sugar).

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub, Poetics:  One of Seventy Two Seasons - Hosted by Lisa.

Fast fry to the jazz beat

 gather the weekday's leftovers

(dish with clovers)

here's the pan

we have no plan

to tarry this rib of cured meat

turn up the heat

with seasoned salt

veggies will waltz

with red onions, shrimps & noodles

we'll make doodles 

here, there; let's eat

leisurely beat

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - The Minute Poem.    Join us for some fun when the pub doors open at 3pm.  The poetry form is the Minute Poem which is a 12 line poem (3 of 4 quatrains with 8-4-4-4 rhyming syllables per stanza).   

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.

anger management 101

your words

of ice brings not shivering

drip but 

growing rage at each beat

you can hardly contain

bitterness spiralling your guts

time to take

{time out},

get lost 

in nature's path

bottle steps of gratitude  

listen to gossiping trees

spread jam of starlings

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Quadrille hosted by Merril Smith.  This is a 44 word post, with the chosen word, shivering.   This word is perfect to describe our icy weather in Ontario, Canada.   But its all warm and friendly at dVerse Pub.  Join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.  Thanks for your comments.

dreaming of flowers in winter

 

there is dull blush 

in the morning breaths, when

gloomy clouds obscure the sparkly clear blue

in the sky, the birdsongs on sugar maple trees,

hide the posy hues i draw on the page

but i know, listen - hush -

to the slow murmuring breeze, shadows spin,

& fold away when dawn breaks through

snow-capped fields, bony twigs tease

my thoughts to pools of light, a magical stage

i fall myself into, lush

pines of silence, unwrapped in copper tin

box, i taste spring in my tea cup, i chew

brandy-spiced pears, lemon tarts & buttered peas-

i catch sunflowers & tie my verses with sage

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub, Poetics, Exploring the Realm of French Literature - Hosted by Sanaa Rizvi.   Poetry form:   Rimas Dissolutas.

Blessings

 

With my thick mittens & woollen socks,

I settle to read your letters, warm

as redbush tea, toasted sweet corn bread

You bring spark, skylight, sugar bush smells

Gloomy rain clouds blur in festive hues

I become playful child, curious as snail

and I thank you, this morning* (again)

*Inspired by poem by David Whyte in Blessings

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub:   Poetry form of Kwansaba & Blessings

Happy Holidays and Happy New Year!!!  See you on January 3, 2022.

A pill for amentalio in winter

 

between the hours of mid-

night and dawn,

sad thoughts float in the etherness

between the lines of stories

sentiments surge with violet beats

tiding low, a murmuration

of black birds skimming 

just above the dotted water line

i am caught in kenopsia, weathered

wings in stillness

my tongue tied in heartspur of

ticking white clock

i drift into a starlone of fathomless

quietude, a cycle of dreaming

and undreaming-

i am nameless, ageless

convinced that i am swirling

into lisolia limbo

shrugging away craxis of pixelled

gravity screens & instant gratification from

metaverse

between light and darkness

make this wave in my mind

a weave with the universe

a thread to break away from aphasia

a matter to soothe the aftergloom

that even with my excelled tinselled fingers,

i can still long to be that comet

hurling headlong in blazing dust

[to where]

a heartmoor

i know it is there

its there

[we are here]

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Poetics:  The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows, hosted by Linda Lee Lyberg.   Join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.