Changing seasons

My friends and I agree to meet up - its been years since we exchanged meaningful conversations face to face.  We greeted each other as if it was only yesterday that we were in high school, preparing to graduate and going off our different paths.   Have we really changed all these decades? Except for a few wrinkles and grey hairs, we shared our life's challenges and discover more similarities than differences.   But the best was  bonding over food, stories and future reunions at this stage in our lives.

Apple trees are heavy with green fruits and because we know how sour it can be, no one gathers the apples.  Most of them are falling on the grass, bruised and browning for the birds and insects.   Early evenings are now cooler as the sun shimmers over veiled clouds, setting earlier than yesterday.

sun is gold-masked coin

behind grey clouds - crickets sound -

echoes of the past

Posted for dVerse Poets - Haibun Monday, Sounds of Koorogi, Hosted by Victoria C. Slotto.

Summer of wildfires

i bottle a lightning
swallow sleeping pills
over mushroom of dark clouds
questions flare in my head
stroked by fire coals 
on summer night
i salt my lungs
amidst flashing siren & neon lights
into slumbering waters
i slip away
scattered dust and pollen
fragile is a seed
burnt raw - in the inside
.....alone

.....alone

burnt-raw in the inside

fragile seeds,

scattered dust and pollen

slipping away

into slumbering waters

amidst flashing siren & neon lights

i salt my lungs

on summer night

stroked by fire coals 

questions flare in my  head

i, mushroom of dark clouds?

or unswallowing sleeping pills

i, bottle of lightning?

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Reverse Poetry hosted by Frank Hubeny.
A good example of reverse poetry is A Civilized Man.  Please join us when the pub door opens at 3pm EST.

Regurgitate

this emptiness
then swallow salt
as small bones froth with decay 
one last look

i let go {body}
box of sorrow  
after 17 days and 1,6000 km
sinks to ocean depths

i surface where my sisters
are frolicking in the dying days
of summer




Posted for dVerse Poets pub - Quadrille, hosted by De Jackson.   This is a 44 word post with the chosen word - BOX. This is inspired by news of the mother orca letting go of her baby calf after 17 days in British Columbia, Canada.    

Haibun: Peace Memorial

My father told us stories about the World War II when Imperial Japan occupied the Philippines (1942-1945) and he and his family retreated into hiding in the far south, away from the city.  My grandfather worked as a spy for the Americans and being half-American, he was easily the target of the enemy.      

My mom's family on the other hand, had to burn their house.  A lot of houses were actually burned as they did not want the Japanese army to use them.   Those years were difficult as normal life came at a standstill and treachery was met with instant death by bayonet. Cruelty to citizens and lack of respect for women were the norm as evidenced by stories of comfort women.  So when the Japanese surrendered and left the Philippines, everyone rejoiced in the streets.  

Radio news would later on reveal the details of the full horrors of war and victory over Japan.  Freedom came with a price.   

i light a candle

for all war's dead - victims, soldiers-

ashen clouds linger-

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Haibun Monday - Peace Memorial - Hosted by pub guest, Frank J. Tassone.  We are commemorating Hiroshima Day with our own poetry! We are to write a haibun that states or alludes to either the Hiroshima attack, or one of the themes of the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Ceremony, such as peace, the abolition of nuclear weapons, or the horror of nuclear war.

Frozen glass (2)

By Dustin Yellin

Snowstorm poured - daggers -
Out{side} my window, a silver chandelier
Dripping dry ice >>  flawless as paragon  <<

Above ebony trees, the moon hides
< fat cheeks > slice of beauty -
Wind rides a black pillar this night
Wrapping [dead things] in resin & 
                                   //layers// of glass

I wait..... not for the thaw of snow 
But for the     << shattering >> 
Slow motion of loop  { arc of force } 

After my long guilty confession
My fingerprints stained of grease, 
I am caught inside this urn  { honed by fever } 
Encased in this   >nebula of darkness<

Light, [he stops me], shimmers bet-
            ween / / cracks 
The scars -- you carry never occurred 
but in your << heart << heart <<

Originally written here

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Punctuation and Enjambment by Bjorn Rudberg. This is repost of a poem, edited with punctuation.  
Please join us when pub doors open at 3pm EST.    

Sounds of Silence

on some good days, 
silence is a gentle
bed of summer
filled with whirling cotton 
puffs

but these times are few
as there sits this silence
beside me
digging into my eyes
(i can't sleep)
rifling me out of my ear drums 
of tranquility
& pouring darkness in the cracks 
of my skin-

sometimes it is a phlegm
that sticks to the tongue
i rinse with alcohol
drowning it with yellow-spotted pills 
but it   
keeps growing a music
of wailing wind, dripping faucet
& sobbing grave stones  
(i can't sleep)

how do you keep this silence
silent?   


Posted for the dVerse Poets - Poetics - Sounds of Silence by guest blogger Dwight Roth.  Please join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.  For this write, I tried to get into the head of an individual with mental health issues/depression.   Thanks for your visits.

Forget-me-flowers

We chat over tea and maple biscuits 
as carnations & lilies deck the minutes
Your lips are red petals, fawning  
While my feet are wings, flitting 
happily as moths amongst tulips  
You pin a white clover into your hair
And tuck blue violets on your wrists 
Overhead, deadly nettle stings my neck
Igniting inside me, darkness, growing fire
Of barberry and yew - I'm sorry I can't offer you
the sweetness of roses, light of sunflowers
Here, take back all the flowers

And forget me, as I disappear, a scud
in the sadness of half-moon, shriveling bud

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Poetics - The Language of Flowers, hosted by Sarah Connors.  You can check for more information of the flowers and their meaning here.
Please join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.  Thanks for your visit.

Riverwood

Which way do I turn, if not, to you
Woodsy path is wild - wheat, grass, moss
Berries abound, colorful as birds
As summer mornings cool as iced tea
Under pines & sugar maple trees
River-bound, the air is pristine
Rebirthing within me, slate so green

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Septet (7 lines) poetry form, hosted by Frank Hubeny.   

Join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.   

Praying seven (x 7)

i didn't think of myself
-not in the beginning-
until he commended me -
chaste daughter, kind tempered, patient
virtues that he valued
as silky pearls, layer upon layer
-seven times seven-
shimmering under summer sky

the affirmation is I am
-an ending-
by what I have sacrificed 
laboriously, under repeated threshing
 -seven times seven-
my vanity, anger, greed, envy, sins
my life for his
until my caring hands wrinkled
husking the grains
and my voice became hoarse

following his
reciting the prayers
for the dying





Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - 7 times 7, hosted by Amaya.  We are to write about seven virtues and seven deadly sins.  Please note that this poem is not about myself; just my reflections about gaining virtues.  

(a)new

grow me pleats 
of feather and wings
and an itch to fly
beyond blue lake

stitch me 
under swathes of monotones
a twitch
to gather colors 
beyond my borders

edge this pen of mine
with hollowness
with lack
needling me endlessly
until I'm (un)done



Posted for dVerse Poets Pub -  Celebrating our 7th dVerse Anniversary!   This is Quadrille #60, 44 word post with the word "itch".   Join us as we open our pub doors after a short break!  See you at 3pm EST.