a witness

 

lockdown  (pause)

the everyday normal

our house, room, walls

is the office & theatre & sports bar

& gym & school & library (& everything else)-

wired & plugged & zoomed

virtual doctor appointments & weddings 

& funerals (& everything else)-

we follow rules under pandemic times

wearing mask was initially a strange abnormality

like fishy, false news, but graph data of rising cases

don't lie

as in votes count in election results

don't lie

i delete

(covididiots marching last weekend) & read

with hope vaccine development news

How to Pronounce Knife

won our 2020 Giller Prize for short stories

i practice on my readings,

rounding my voice to bellowing bells

applause, applause (pause)-

my mind reels back to short dayhours

as yellowing of maple leaves mark

the season change

we (pause)

winter for few days of sun-

shine, spring of birdsongs, magic of colors

blanketing our city up north

20 C in Mississauga City, Nov. 10, 2020

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Poetics, Poetry as Witness, hosted by Peter Frankis.

We are enjoying a (rare) warm autumn week.   Thanks for the visit and comments.

a home edit: blue carrots

Monday is wine

abundunt with spice & plum

i spill on my

tuxedo

pressed for the week

i twirl my glass

for a closer peek on bowl

is it ebony silver, spotted spots of cat

or

is it golden locks of sunflower spires

on cusp

breaking underfoot from oak barrels

i drink to blues, blue 

i (breathing)

hours, smoke & symmetry of dead leaves

blue season of poppies & snowflakes

i reach (again)

for my morning medicine 

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - MTB:  Synesthesia.  We are focusing on colors (grapheme color synesthesia).   The post is about seasonal affective disorder (SAD), which is a type of depression that is related to the changes in seasons.   As a note, I have overcome this and have focused on keeping busy and engaged with poetry.

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

November sky is

 

a coarse wrapping paper 

i uncover

with my ink-smudged hands

i expect nothing but bleakness,

faded maple leaves, deadheaded flowers

in this red poppy box

night descends by 5 pm

darkness becomes a womb, 

a church, smell of incense for prayers for the dead-

(less 1 hour, 30 candles)

yet on first day, flicker of frost

whitest of fluff rains down

this is nature's quartet:   winter 

an aperture

where the soul song of maple trees

trills with cries of the geese & gulls-

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - November Poetics, hosted by Sanaa Rizvi.  We had our first frost in November 1st.   Thanks for your visits and comments.

Autumn Sky

 

when cold wind settles, blanket

of paraffin wax

on sogging stalks 

                             & petals

i throw my words up in the air

& see how some turn to russet, 

   gold

& pumpkin yellow

my eyes see                the magic

fleeting sunburst 

              magnetic pull of

                                    autumnal light

Autumn @EverydayAmazing

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Quadrille, hosted by De Jackson.  This post is 44 words, with the given word, MAGNET.  Join us when the pub doors open by 3pm EST.   

October pantry

 

Salt and pepper clouds on pewter sky

Thick marrow, mashed with maple syrup

Pumpkin skinned rhubarb and apple pie 

Drizzled curry and thick cream on vegetable soup

Fallowed leaves on twigs twisted in cinnamon bow

Bitter chocolate, cold wine, pints of sorrow on 

fallen pine cones

Harvested pots of color:   russet, crimson,

lurid yellow, blazing sepia & burnt amber on shelves

Faded photographs of black crows, echoes 

of requiem mass

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - OpenLinkNight.    Join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.  Thanks for your comments and visits.

Food for the soul

 

red maple leaves

blazing fire & frisson

feed

this simple soul

quiet space is growing

as autumn grips the sky

copper & russet 

we fall

on bed warmed by hikes

our footprints invisible

by dying sun

Autumn Leaves

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Three Little Words by Sarah.  

I chose:  Feed.Quiet.Copper.   Join us when the pub doors open by 3pm EST.

Hope is a suffix with plexiglass

 

hope is free

hope is a breeze across an open field

hope is a spoonful

of trouble, laundry detergent & rain clouds

hope is tea

spilling on my hands

steeping my words with prefixes & suffixes

hope is you, 

in you

hope is the sun-

dress, flowers, shine, burst

of glass

when hope is lost

hope is a hoax

hope is not enough

hope is a golf ball

hope is a letter that never arrived

hope is (not) a thing with feathers

that sits on my table with porcelain doll

hope is a verb

hope is a muscle,

lungs, legs, arms, wings, claws, fingers

it is young woman who calls

Animal Services for help, waiting beside  

a convulsing squirrel on the side street

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub- MTB, List that Google Gives Us - Hosted by Bjorn Rudberg.  I used the tool, googlism to spark and find my poem.   

Ballad of Jack & the Fish

 

His name was Jack, trader & trickster

Of perfumes & tarot cards of death

Carrie was young, dolled in her sister's

grey clothes, carrying basket of baby's breath

They met under bony tree, dire of pears

To exchange a letter sealed by candle wax

With a grin, Jack bowed with gentleman's air

And she smiled, preening feathers & flax

Her purse full, she'll meet him by lodging house

Tomorrow when the night is grey silver

And air is wanton whiskey & roasted grouse-

Jack rides off, salivating with thoughts of glitter 

On a flesh cuddly soft as baby

Her swan neck, arching for fool's gold

Wait, what's her name?  Jack's brain was hazy 

His chest were knives, pressed so cold

With these blackouts, he was lost fish

Palm readings to find his landing, so tragic-

Carrie walked towards the market to buy fish

hooks.  Her dagger & cord, ready to work magic

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - You Want It Darker, guest hosted by Lucy.  Dark themes in ballad poetry form.   Thanks for your visit and comments.  

Threads

 

my tongue is spooning pumpkin soup

      & warm bread 

wrap me 

not with wrath of pandemic's

      second wave

nor with skein of its affliction 

but with blanket

knitted soft as sky of maple leaves

       red-smocked by evening sun 

threading deeper unto shadows 

of trees

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Quadrille, where the given word is Blanket.  This is a 44 word post. 

Thank you for hosting Merril!    

Woman of the Tree

 

her ribs came from wood

of sufferings, swollen with moonlit tears

her eyes reflect solitude of woods

her arms softest of fiddlehead ferns

yet her fire from failures

carves her path now

into the next journey,

she is resolute, as her mother

& grandmother have been, welding 

her words to burn at every dawn 

Tree Sculpture at Mississuaga Park

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - OpenLinkNight, hosted by Mish. Join us when the pub doors open by 3pm EST.   Thanks for the visit and comments.