Tuesday, March 21, 2017

Red River


I run through heart of the land, muddy, brackish, moving birch canoes, from dawn to dusk.    


i hang a red dress 
its folds billowing spiritual dance 

along grainy shores  

forked by roots of ancient trees 
i burn sagebrush

and i


count the years passing

of voices forever silenced 
stolen sisters, missing daughters-

only heartbeat of river remains-


I crawl with broken bones, washing away blood, footprints, sun-scarred skin under dark moon.   



Each year, dozens of Canadian Aboriginal women are murdered or disappear never to be seen again. Some end up in a river that runs through the heart of Winnipeg.


Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Poetics:  The River, hosted by guest host, Paul Dear.   And Happy World Poetry Day!   Thanks for the visit ~

Thursday, March 16, 2017

Blue impressions



dawn is a chimera
mixing the star lights
with birthing hour of light



quick is the rising mist -
blurring of sapphire, glint of topaz stones,
fragment of powdery clouds, shimmer of moth-wings 



here is the moment:
teardrop lingers in moon's eye
lash
frozen in frame
as giant wave
curling
cresting before crashing
into field of cornflowers



milk-spilled sky mingles with
dandelion-wrinkled rain-



I'm wrapped in drifting leaves
as i drive into city's white noise
serene as lake 





            Vetheuil In The Fog


Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Impressionism hosted by Bjorn Rudberg ~  Join us when the pub opens at 3pm EST ~  Thanks for the visit ~

Monday, March 13, 2017

A song clip


you're the refrain
my heart pings to
on a slow dance

the steady string 
at my kite's end 
bidding me - fly!

the woody arms 
when eaves are howl-
ing violins-

you're the steady tap- 
words beneath words-
pull of spring wind
beneath my steps-



Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Quadrille - 44 word post with the word SPRING.
Thoughts while watching a lovely couple, our close friends, renew their wedding vows last Saturday (25th anniversary)~  Thanks for the visit ~

Thursday, March 9, 2017

Five lighthouses on darkness


i.
thunder crackles sky-
wind picks up howling lament-
my lips bleed - darkness -

ii.
i taste darkness, briny-
stow me on boat, dandelion
weaving between stones-

iii.
brittle stone of ice-
teeth of unforgivin sins
claw deep, darkness,
a seed

iv.
bells are silent-
weeping willows in darkness
as I wave goodbye-

v.
sweep tower 
of bats
and darkness 
reefed with Dead man's fingers-



Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - OpenLinkNight - Hosted by Gayle ~  Join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.  Thanks for your visit ~

Tuesday, March 7, 2017

a building blueprint



here in corner,
facing east, dig up dirt
whale-width, length
of yellow submarine

pile sands and silt
layer walls honey-burnt 
by bees, and floors
sea-tiled, cool grass on feet

roof, tumbleweeds 
piled high like warm pancakes 
with fresh butter-
our hands itch for books, pen



build me sunrooms
at every nook- there, here 
where light brims pool
of spring blooms, shrubs, herbs, greens-



At late moonrise
Under the cupid's bow,
I raise my glass
wine toast for you & me



Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - DIY Building by Guest Host Sara McNulty ~  Thanks for the visit ~

Monday, March 6, 2017

Forest walk



We come here, from the metropolis, with giant's footprints.  

The hike is narrow, dirt trodden path with sign posts.   Up and up, the path runs along shallow caves of pre-historic years.   Shrubs and saplings crisscross with pine and spruce trees.  Here nature designs her own house - from limestone cliffs to soap-washed out ledges, to the jewelled crowns  of maple and oak trees.  Gnarled roots stand out along the way, thick and grubby.   Moss and wild flowers frolic, their leaves running zig-zag, then tumbling down the hills.  The air is cool, heady with scents of fallen leaves and rain.  The heart of the forest beats, steady slow hum, weaving with maverick trills and caws carried by wind.      

We leave the conservation area, conquered by green bath of forest.  Small creatures, bubbling with dew and birdsongs.

autumn leaves pile bed 
of silence- as birds of prey
climb peak cliffs, screeching-





Posted for the D'verse Poets Pub - Haibun Monday is hosted by Kanzensakura ~  The theme is forest bathing ~  In 1980, the Japanese began a type of healing/meditation/relaxation process called shinrin-yoku (森林浴) or literally, forest bathing. Join us when the pub opens at 3pm EST.

Thursday, March 2, 2017

Lost garden



his heart's a thistle, sparse skin and dry.   today, his eyes are moody blue when he is stuck in the room all day.  the suffocation is real, like someone is stepping on his fragile chest, when all he wants to do is be a balloon, untied touching the sky.  his tortured thoughts haunt him, a scar unseamed, a whispered scream.

during school's lunchbreak, he escapes with a walk around the block.  there is a slight drizzle overhead, hint of cloudy night.  the air is cool and damp, scent of trees soothing his nerves.   in a corner, he sits down to watch the pigeons haggling over breadcrumbs. some grey pigeons stand overhead the wires and roof tops like sentinels looking down at the streets. an idea brews on his head, an image stretching into infinity of patterns.   he takes his pen and draws what his mind is echoing, in fast paced strokes.   for a few minutes, he is a river, gliding with fish and tadpoles, absorbed with his artwork.   now he is a tiny insect, crawling diligently beneath layers of soil, grains and seeds.     his fingers inked with markings, he smiles.   his chest is all mushy now, filled with trills, caws and sunny leaves of a lost garden.



Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Prose Poem by host, Frank Hubeny ~  Try your hand in writing one when the pub opens at 3pm EST ~  Thanks for the visit ~

Tuesday, February 28, 2017

Box of watches



time set in stone
carapace of lost sky
kept in box sewn
hours of day-sighing 

fortnight of songs
minutes of fibs, glitches
seconds of fear
bands around old watches

i pour sands, stars
and throw the key away-




Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Poetics about Memento by Mish ~  Join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.  Thanks for the visit ~

Monday, February 27, 2017

Squiggly by fireflies





here is home-
windows turning to clouds
warmed by steaming chicken broth

couch holding storybooks
with giant hands and feet

walls squiggly-marked with pink-
beds giggled-soft by pillows-

floors hiding burpy 
belly laughter

and ceiling lights- 
fireflies
bright as wiggling-balloons
going 
up
& away




Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Quadrille - 44 word post with the word GIGGLE.  Come and join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.   Hosted by De Jackson.

Thursday, February 23, 2017

Vellichor


under vermilion sky,
you're rhapsody between 
heartbeats & raindrops

drip...drip...drip ....

longing for home
that i can't return to-
that i can't traced back-
a drizzled map, between 
book markers & side margin notes,
unfolds as i unwind clocks 

click...click...click ....

vellichor
this longing wells
for your fingers
scented of sepia ink
running along my spine 
and fragile pages

burn...burn...burn ....





Title*  From the Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows, you'll find words you won't find in a traditional dictionary yet.... like "Vellichor" ("The strange wistfulness of used bookshops, which are somehow infused with the passage of time......) 

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - OpenLinkNight ~  I am pleased to be your host when the pub opens at 3pm EST ~  Thanks for the visit ~


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