Season of autumn

morning fogs garden 

mulch of yellow leaves & 

bug-bitten blooms -

everything bows to autumn rain:  

trees, petals, even my words    

     

~0~0~

a maple leaf falls 

on empty playground 

its descent, an arc 

 unsteady in cool breeze - 

sunset fills my eyes      

And in honor of Ghanian poet, Kofi Awooner who died in Kenyan shopping mall over the weekend in hands of the Al Qaeda linked terrorists, I was inspired to write this:

autumn never came for you:

your words are always spring

& rain & drumbeats of hope-

now the black birds are silent

& elephants are weeping a river 

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - OpenLinkNight - Thanks for the visit ~  
Shared with Real Toads - Tanka poems 
Picture credit:  here

You ask me, a poet, to write of peace

Saltworks by Japanese Artist:   Motoi Yamamoto

Instead 

I pour sea salt

on floor, white crystals on black 

forming lines, trails, zigzags, u-turns grief    

to healing, meticulously hour after hour, 

a canvas emerges 

Instead 

I stitch a patch  

with my sisters, aunts, girlfriends

pinning & folding each sides carefully, 

delicately threading, day after day

a quilt spreads

Instead

I prepare chicken soup

& fresh salads & bake pies

rinsing & wiping each plate & cup 

tending a warm fire, season after season

a hearth nests 

Instead

I pot the garden 

& sweep neighbor's side of fallen leaves

offering my bus seat to an old man

& smiles to tired woman behind the check-out counter

a bridge shapes  

Instead

I gather all:  words & salt grains

& hurl them back to the tides during autumn's eve  

perhaps this is how peace finally arrives:

to accept that all returns 

to sea  

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Poetics on Peace - Inspired by the artist work via Colossal

Thanks for the visit ~

Fishbones

My spine stiffens before the devouring:

Close eyes, feel nothing, not even disgust

Hardening becomes the norm, factor & given

Picked clean to the bones, I gather my salt

At night, weave & cast net for words & foam

By the light of harvest moon, flesh & fins quiver

There is partaking of a different kind: deep

Nourishing blood, spewing poison rotting the lungs

Artist:   Kathryn Dyche Dechario

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - OpenLinkNight ~  Thanks for the visit ~ 

Naked, the song's A SmaSh-

Pages 
torn raw  
bellies & guts out 
spread eagle, unfurling for all to see- 

      No, not the naked ex-teen princess  
      in wrecking ball video, humping/singing, whose father
      said it wouldn't matter if she wore jeans & flannel shirt,
      the song's A SmaSh-  SmaSh 

           the SpInES, edgeS 
           & cover SheetS until lines 

                 d i l u t e 

           & water drOwN the artist-
           a coMModity, scAndAl, nEwSrEel- 
           
     the song's A SmaSh-  SmaSh 
     My teen girl saw it (xXhits in xXhrs) so I tell her- it matters that you 
     wear clothes decent/clean, hold one's tongue IN/choose care-
     fully, simply be    

bouquet, canvas, vase or sculpture-
fire-carved, tears-tempered &  
made with bare 
hands 

Art Made from Books: Altered, Sculpted, Carved, Transformed

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

Fragility

Artist:  Kathryn  Dyche Dechario

Fragile

leaves, I’m a tree

unyielding, like a storm

I’ll not lay blame on changing clouds,

nor the quickening sands, moulding my hands

into pearls, layered hard, shiny -

Peel away  skin  at  night:  

blood, scars, fears- I’m

Fragile

Posted for Imaginary Garden for Real Toads - I am featuring the lovely work of Kathryn Dyche Dechairo.   There's a give-away for those participating until OLN Monday.   Thanks Kathryn !!!

Poetry form:   Rictameter (9 lines) 

Shared with Poets United

Voracious

kill the palate of old habits:
fresh soup, chicken, vegetables & fruits 

scorn the fingers & hands
of crushing garlic, chopping spices & herbs

until we get used to dry chemicals 
& pills & frozen dinner rolls & thirsty

equates to sugar pop rush, not fresh water-
saturate the pan with salt & MSG until  

bellies widen with forgetting
grandma's recipes & bones turn delicate

with milk & cheese sealed in plastics-
slow & wait & reap becomes outdated for fast-

food, and on some days we're looking  
for flesh, juice, pit & seeds

ironically it will be packaged

more expensive in glossier paper & labels

someday we will be very hungry 
& not even food can fill it -

Judith Klausner via Colossal Blog

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - OpenLinkNight - Thanks for the visit ~

While eating thai food & memories

Thai Beef Satay @ Grace

her body is stooped spoon, heavy from
     deaths of husband, parents, two siblings
     dealing with autistic child now a young adult
               with violent behavioral challenges

but her eyes are clear as river
     detailing childhood toys, books, garden, games   
     snippets of conversations with cousins, names 
               & dates & years traversed like a bridge 

prayers, i keep on praying, she says
     as we look at her 1 album, covered neat & shiny,   
     i have many more pictures, she adds, 
              but its all buried in mess   

except stories of growing up in grandma's house, 
     now long gone: stones, trees, landscape of houses-  
     & as i eat my thai noodles & satay, i wonder 
             what memories my children will keep 

Posted for Poets United -  Spent Saturday afternoon in Toronto City, meeting up with hubby's cousins ~ Thanks for the visit ~

River

 Rideau Canal, Ottawa City @ Grace

I.

red-skinned or paler than sky
my tongue is a serpent,
my bones, softer than sands
but you will never see my face

II.

in the aftermath of winter storm 
& howling winds, carved still by 
northern sky, i turn into an old woman,  
but you will never see me weep


Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Riddles ~ Thanks for the visit ~

looking out from my (business class) seat

Grace @ Everyday Amazing

the trees are throwing up

their hands in the air, shouting

verses & clapping hands- 

summer rushes, an impatient choir

as train carries me

feather light through corn & winery fields  

i let business & weighty  

matters of expectations & scorecards   

fade & slide behind me, 

the window, a waterfall of green

leaves as clouds followed me  

billowing the sky 

Posted for:   Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Things Carried
I was in Ottawa City last week for a company sponsored sales conference.

And Flash Fiction Friday - 55 words for the G-man. 

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 ~