Thursday, March 28, 2024

coaxing spring season


my mom forgets her thoughts, butterflies in flight

but not her prayers.  her rosary beads are bright as sunlight


where do you find yourself at end of the day

are you cradling a lady bug?  or do you stare at the moonlight ?


the shadows have their seasons too.*  filled with dead poets.

yellowing regretful sighs.   time to change curtains to spring light


i will etch the walls with songs.  with color.  with feathers.

because inside me, is cardinal, awaiting spring. with sky light


the white wall.  the blank page.  you stitch the emptiness

into fullness.  you are embroideried canvas & edged with light


*Line:  The Shadows have their seasons, too"  from John Updike, Penumbrae


Posted for dVerse Poets pub - OpenLinkNight - Hosted by Sanaa Rizvi.  Thanks for your visits and comments.  Poetry form:  ghazal.



Tuesday, March 26, 2024

the building (land acknowledgement)

you moonwalk out of the building

whose wall tiles are blue-etched in history


giant banners follow the marbled columns 

as you stand to witness sunset throbs 


in glorious colors, washing 

large window frames with ecru & peach tints


beneath black suit

how sober cold you hold yourself


refracted by city neon lights- 

you belong here yet not quite from the tilt of your head-


on cobbled steps, you marvel the carvings

and gothic shape of the building 


and hearing the folklore rising from the relics

and feeling its hot breath on your skin-


maybe it will take another decade or two

of walking & inhaling the sun-baked streets


to feel connected to the ancient land the building

stands after hearing the land acknowledgement


for now, you just want to respect 

the ties that bind us all under the eyes


of the ever-steady moon-

for now, you just want nothing more than be hurled


to the sky, star-wrinkled

glinting of mysteries, stirring in you an ocean of awe



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


This is an example of a land acknowledgement:  

Land Acknowledgement for Toronto

We acknowledge the land we are meeting on is the traditional territory of many nations including the Mississaugas of the Credit, the Anishnabeg, the Chippewa, the Haudenosaunee and the Wendat peoples and is now home to many diverse First Nations, Inuit and Métis peoples. We also acknowledge that Toronto is covered by Treaty 13 with the Mississaugas of the Credit.


Thursday, March 21, 2024

False Spring


I listen to western wind's murmurings - 

Birthing songs by iris and daffodils

High-pitched cries by broad winged hawks nurturing- 

There is restlessness in the air, the chills

Of winter are ebbing low & bordering

Small buds & silky tendrils sprouting gills

Shedding dark skin of soil & instinct to cling

And inhale the marvelous light of spring


The sun's crimson fingers brings fresh mirror

Sketching the pale grey sky blue as bluebells

Coloring the leaves young and green, clearer

Than raindrops that shimmers with silver spells

But all that is short-lived as once more, furor

Of winter wind comes back, peeling back shells

Of green & draping its white coat, unasked

It's false spring.   We all huddle back, hands clasped!  



Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Poetry Form:   Ottavo Rima or Sonnetto Rispetto.  We are learning this traditional Italian poetry form.  Join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.

Tuesday, March 19, 2024

cold & lost in the song

 

What was that I see

Over the bridge

Not two lovers walking in dance-steps

Not line of cars threading slowly

Away from the green lamp posts 

To where the lake swallows 

                                               you    


It is bleak darkness

As if the sun is lost behind trees

As if all the colors got sucked out

And wounded tightly in hard fist 

Or is it I who is 

                                               lost                                                            


A bird 

with wings heavy as pewter 

with no driving instinct to return 

To where "home" is

That is nowhere between

                                               me   


and the goddess with lion's mane 

Magnificent but so pale                                 

As ghost, listless and weary as 

                                               i


Where is the zest for life?

What secrets did we keep that broke our peace?

Our yesterdays changed us

All the energy is spent

                                               lost    


And though there is this undeniable longing

inside my chest

To return to the familiar womb

To gather all the light once more

and embrace your laughter


i am content with the cold

absence of

                                               you            



René Magritte, Homesickness (1940), oil on canvas.


Posted for dVerse Poets Pub:   Everything We See, hosted by Melissa Lemay.  Join us when the pub doors open at 3pm for the ekprastic challenge.  Thanks for your visits and comments.

Monday, March 4, 2024

my hand holds a pomegranate

 

I swallow the seeds  

spilling


warm sea in my womb 


bless my body

- a child -

untouched by sorrow

bestowed from darkness to light


through slumbering fog


hear my plea

heal bleeding pain

i'm weary but hopeful


when will our child of love be born?




Created by Microsoft Bing (AI)


Posed for dVerse Poets Pub - Quadrille, hosted by Punam. This is a 44 word post with the chosen word, slumber. Thanks for the visits and comments.

Tuesday, February 27, 2024

the hands of the artist



the middle finger of my right

hand

   grows a tree


white tap roots skitter

down

   interweaving with my veins


branches protude 

fingerlings swimming upward-

   against gravity


northbound -

    this is homeward drive

where mollusks are plenty    


my body is listening

   leap

capture the raging

   tides swelling within-   


this warm clay

coarsely molds friction & fire

   with flights of fancy


to sculpture -

wings are not required 

   the fruiting is art

   


Artist Credit:   Anastassia Zamaraeva


Posted for dVerse Poets Pub -  Poetics - 2024 Poets Leaping hosted by Lisa Fox.  Thanks for your comments and visits.

   


Monday, February 19, 2024

February morning



in a canvas of white

maple trees are empty baskets

while pine trees are lush of cones

along ice-covered pathways-

such a grey dreary sight

yet with slight touch

of sunrise, rolling clouds,  blue sky,

the morning is leavened

by puffs of yellow-butter radiance




Posted for dVerse Poets pub - Quadrille, hosted by De Jackson.  This is a 44 word post with the chosen word, TOUCH.  Join us with a poem when the virtual pub doors open at 3pm EST.  Thank you for your comments.

Tuesday, February 13, 2024

The Garden

Welcome to The Garden!

You may walk barefoot here if you wish.

Inhale the fresh air.

Sit on the benches under the shades of trees

Eat the fruits that you find

  Your hands will be holding the sun's warmth

  And the dewness of rainclouds 

Our trees here are grand as 

Cathedrals reaching for the sky

But watch out for poison ivy and stinging neetles

  The giant hogweed can cause burns

Traveller, there is no judgement 

  Of where you came from 

  Of what is the color of your skin 

We would love to hear your stories

  if you are so inclined to chatter 

  Over teapot of orange blossom

If you choose solitude and soil

  Abandonment with vines is the upward course

If you seek knowledge from the trees

  Meditation with the bees is the eastern path

And if you wish to walk further

Nearby a river runs in ziz zag pathway

   Refusing to run straight


 

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Poetics, Its Written in Stone, hosted by Dora.

Thanks for your comments and visits.

Monday, February 5, 2024

sky-painting

a cup of tea

simmers with aroma


you sip its warmth

as blues shuffles the air


evoking happy times-

you write your verses


imagining time is splatter of color

you draw on sands


vermillion sky-

mumuration of starlings-


you, being carried away

on clouds



Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Quadrille hosted by Lillian.  This is a 44 word post with the chosen word - Imagine.  Join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.


Thursday, February 1, 2024

the business of busyness

some of us see you as woman

in flowered hat

cool as a spring blossom

no one can guess that beneath

your walk with an air of elegance

that you are filled with piths of sadness


an emptiness that you cannot bottle

and put a label

so that your therapist can check

its shape

its hues and dunes

its composition 

her moon eyeglasses

could not decode where it

started nor prescribe the cure


so you carry a big purse of fullness 

and work your hands with busyness

your schedule is so booked

you blank out lunch

you forget to go outside 

and inhale the scent of lilacs & tulips-


real flowers, that is

if only your therapist knows

that the only thing that brings you a smile

are the birdsongs




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