Tuesday, April 19, 2016

A monster's tale

I wait
as your boat is moored by deep cave

You weigh your choices:

Flee 
and forget 
what you have truly seen

Or spur me, fighting  
the venomous snakes, green-slithering  
with fiery orbs 

Or give me your lips
deadly sweet 
chimera of silk

to kiss 
to shatter the lies -

The curse upon me by jealous Goddess: 
My heart is not a stone-



MEDUSA
Picture credit:  here

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - We have guest host, Stacy, on folk tales and myths ~   

Thanks for the visit ~ 

Monday, April 18, 2016

Skydiving into the new season


peel away old skin  
untangle twigs, twisted with tattered leaves 
clear cobwebs and broken glass from winter's storm    

new buds thrust their faces
up above the rain-dappled ground, their tongues
hungry for sun-yellowed lashes     

spring comes hurling a giant ball whilst whistling with cardinals- 





Credit:  Colossal


Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Quadrille - 7.   This is a 44 word count with the word TWIST.   The pub opens at 3pm EST.    We had a wonderful spring weather over the weekend, finally ! 

Thursday, April 14, 2016

Word play




I forget them sometimes - their lilt and grace when arranged and folded like origami on the page. How soft and musical they can be.   How flexible they can bend, like an accordion.  How wide their palette, from demure white to fury red to intoxicating purple-lilac.  When used with brash and swagger, they can hurt with impunity.  On the flip side, silence is also a weapon.   Imagine when your muse leaves you with an empty vase or you get no response to a letter you sent.  They say your words define you.  So be careful of the words that you invite in - they will rage in your blood, and bleed from your pen.    


patch of moss, green
brims with abundance-
dawn is sweet, orange 


Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - OpenLinkNight hosted by Bjorn Rudberg ~  Also, a haibun for our Haibun Monday hosted by Kanzensakura ~  Thanks for the visit ~  

Tuesday, April 12, 2016

Fantasy on cold winter night



Play the violin
Fiddle the lute
Drum the cymbals 

I am garden, keyed with seeds
Singing to the moon, coppery fire:
Melt the ice crystals, draw leaves rising & chanting-

Music of spring whips up a storm, dabbing the sky buttered-green- 



Painting by Elisabetta Trevisan


Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Fantasia or fantasy with guest host, Lillian ~   Thanks for the visit ~

Thursday, April 7, 2016

Two Sevenling poems

Sevenling (First meeting)


There are three things she recalls - 
the way he laughed with her,  gentleness
of his hands & sunset unfolding in his eyes

Language is a dance of spoken
words and unspoken thoughts.  It also nests
nuances, which seems to invite a kiss-

She knew he is a keeper






Picture credit:  here

~0~0~0~0~


Sevenling (Travelling) 



In the station, we check our list:  
luggages, tickets and coins
for the subway musician playing a folksy song

There are different rules for the rich -
luxury yacht vacations, private plane lounges 
and special tax treatment -

We travel via rustic train, smelling earth, tasting wind-




Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Sevenling, hosted by De Jackson ~  Thanks for the visit ~

Tuesday, April 5, 2016

Train of my thoughts while riding one


Picture credit:   Pierre Folk


My head is plateau of unfin-
ished stories 
I wriggle with ideas, wet
with sudden downpour

Houses with secret doors 
& streets, unmarked
I thread fallen petals & keys, 
a necklace of lost hours

I marvel at the couple
standing face to face in crowd
their faces blooming as first
day of spring, sweeter 
than a sugar cup

My shoes are melting
with laughter from gossiping ladies 
& cooing with toddler strapped
in the stroller, wriggling his socks off

Though each train ride is a chameleon,
it's a constant clock in our city life-
Here comes my station stop
At click of door chime, I fly away-




Posted for D'verse Poets Pub -  Wheels of Steel, hosted by Bjorn Rudberg ~   I take the train everyday on my way to work so I see many kinds of people riding it.  
Thanks for the visit ~

Monday, April 4, 2016

Frozen pond






she said what she had to say

unbiased truth,
traumatic thoughts of young
woman, preyed by puppet-master

now she is offered
freedom 
if she can lie 
again

glimpse of her future
shimmering rose, pixelating
on wintered pond

she said what she had to say





Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Quadrille, hosted by Victoria ~  The word is shimmer, in 44 word count

Thursday, March 31, 2016

Subtraction in the evening



My clumpy make-up in cotton
  balls are scattered myrrh

Suds swallow my freckles
   washing away oil & dirt

There's a lot of stories between
   my sagging eyebrows

& cheekbones, a slow dance
   of water spray & gravity of age

The mirror is shifting sands,
   peeling symbols & labels to dust

Quick shuffle of hands
    my face cleansed, a canvas

Recast in pale
   shadows of melting winter snow

With pat of towel,
     I go to the window & search

for the solemn quarter
   of moon,

unclothed in glorious silver
    its light never held back by clouds




Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - OpenlinkNight - Hosted by Mary

Tuesday, March 29, 2016

Ode to mountains




Photography:   Petros Koublis


we hike along your
slopes, rugged against forest's belly
in early sunrise-
though you reek of slim pickings
our teeth sinks into you
like meat,  we're wolves,
                                            famished
like seeds, we're birds,
                                            lost

we pause on top
your crown is gutted by wind 
& sluiced by countless thunder storms
you sometimes bellow with fire
every 100 years or so,
yet steadfast do we rest
on your shoulders, mud-carved
with carrying a million spruce
                                                     trees
with burying a million more grave
                                                     pits


we begin our descent
to hoots of geese & flight of swallows
passing by wheat & corn fields
by sundown-
our nostrils heavy with sap
& our arms, light of
                                    air
& our feet, sated with 
                                    sands



Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Summit in Sight, by guest prompter, Lynn.   Join us when the poetry pub opens at 3pm EST.

Monday, March 28, 2016

Haibun: Appointment with Death



Cherry Blooms in 2015 by Grace

Haiku by Issa:

"what a strange thing -
to be alive beneath
cherry blossoms"



I read the news with sadness - the tragic ending of a 2 year old boy, who was lost and found dead from drowning in the nearby creek.   My heart bleeds for the parents and family of  Chase, just as it bleeds for the victims who were injured and died in the latest bombing in Lahore, Pakistan last Easter Sunday.    

The specter of death came closer last week - an officemate's husband just suddenly collapsing on his work table, and dying a few hours later in the hospital.   My young colleague with two young sons, is now on leave, trying to organize things after the unexpected demise of her husband.    

How fortunate I am to be enjoying the Easter dinner with my family, catching up with news and renewing our ties. I search for the budding of hope on my hands.  I am thankful for the blessings, and call on the gift of kindness, inside my heart, to spring forth like a  river.  To bloom with joy even during the darkest of nights.


at dawn, half-moon lingers
above cherry bloom trees, still bare-
while our heart beats with rain



Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Haibun Monday, hosted by Kanzensakura

Thanks for the visit ~


The title is from my favorite author, Agatha Christie's book, Appointment with Death.   I have been watching the series on Hercule Poirot on Netflix for the past month.