Saturday, June 29, 2013

maybe this is what we need right now

i see birds by my window tree, 
        dappled in leaves & sun   
how freely they glide about 
        in the gentle morning light-  

my thoughts flew to 
        what my 2nd son told me last night:  
he lined up amidst the Toronto crowd, 
        to get a "hug" from a woman-

who is she, I asked, imagining  
        maybe she is like
godmother fairy with a magical wand or 
        a royal pink-cheeked princess, but no

she is 50 year old plus woman & her gift is
        a "hug" 

for less than 10 seconds & 
       he said that he felt 
that the whole world 
       hugged him back -- 

i quickly googled the name, AMMA & saw
       a mother's face, grayish hair 
with black eyes & red/white third eye between brows-
       white garbed like a dove- 

she is considered the living 
       "Hugging Saint" from India, known for her 
charitable work, and university for 17000 students - 
       people enthrust her with money, to do what
governments with red tape & protocol can't do, 
       building a formidable empire in US/worldwide - 

she is here for a 4 day weekend, 
       giving away her blessings freely 
like mother nature, i said-
       thinking of summer burnishing the garden in colors -

we shouldn't treat people like 
       Gods because they provide us with our needs, my hubby warns 
& i recall cult-like groups getting money from poor & gullible &
       slyly building big mansions in exclusive villages, mistaking

their power to be exclusive from God, egos swelling  
       high up in their gold gilded churches -  
but don't we play God in our own lives - 
       when I swat a fly to death or dust away the spider's web  - 

or when a skilled doctor saves the life of a frail child
       and a grateful mother kneels at his feet -
we all have these circles of energy & light with/
       in, to uplift others like seeds in the wind-
maybe what the world needs 
       is not another enchanted kingdom or castle
with a prince with a sharper sword & bigger white horse 
       but just  

a mother's tender embrace - 
     a wordless hug - 

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Poetics about Disney & their characters by Mary - Thanks for the visit ~   

Tuesday, June 25, 2013

What happened after midnight & before I turned right

Grace @ Everyday Amazing

i stop at the intersection- 
a man with red luggage crosses the street, asking for directions, coal eyes perplexed-

a mirror looks back at me: 8 years ago 

we landed after midnight in the airport, 10 boxes, 2 luggages each,  tired & over-

whelmed by 10 lane freeway, lights crisscrossing, where to begin- 
& learn to stitch knot x knot, string x string & tie the loose endings –

my eldest reminds me of this day & counts down minutes from his sleek phone,
he is dapper in suit, young & ambitious, a far cry from the teen, clinging stubbornly  

to his childhood home, reluctantly packing his stuff in frenzied pace at last hours -
but my finger is now looking for a name in the pamphlet-    

I tap- here it is:  my youngest is graduating from Grade 8 - 

she is wearing a lovely shade of green dress & tall (in cream 3-inch shoes)-

after two facials, fake nails, hair & make-up by professional salon,

i (we) hardly recognize the 6 year old who excitedly pointed to 

the squirrels & playground outside our apartment on 1st day in Canada,

eager to embrace our new life, curiously searching for trails, begin

each day, an adventure, to discover that underneath

different skin, hair & eye colors of many are the same dreams (as mine)

pressed tight into a bright bouquet of flowers, i inhale 

summer sky, wear my own colors:   emerald dress against blooming maple trees -     

& continue my drive, tilling the familiar road like my hand --  

Posted for:  D'verse Poets Pub - OpenLinkNight - Sharing a special milestone in our family. My youngest is the 2nd from right, with her best friends ~ 

Saturday, June 22, 2013

the last stRAW

       is not out of the b l u e, 
they are 
  s m a l l    o n e s-

paper   c u t,
       m i s s e d    word(ing),
      un/capped bottle
  that  b r e a k s  us into 
   R  A  G   E, 
b l e e d i n g    F R A G M E N T S   in    s p a c e    

yet it also  h u r l s   
us into (an)other
P - A - T - H

-write & re/write a (NEW) page-
-re/discover our hands are  a r r o w s / b o w s- 
-accept our name(less& fears(more) in the universe-  

[My eyes on the starfleet voyage, marked X]
Rule of thumb:

Posted for D'verse Poet Pub - Weaving Idioms into our Poems
Can you tell I just watched latest Superman & Star Trek movies?   Smiles ~  Have a lovely weekend ~ 

Digital Art by Adam Martinakis

Tuesday, June 18, 2013

Outside my window

Picture by Grace @ EverydayAmazing 

The roses are abounding
    like tiara of rubies & silk
        umbrellas unfolding in the rain 

Do you see each petal glistening
    ruffled red, lavish as the sunset     
        leaning in to inhale the last days of spring

Each neck arching to the clear sky  
    slender & long as crowned cranes-
        bones tender under the prickled flesh 

Do you hear the energy & pulse beating   
     of the seeds in its bosom or curling of roots  
         in the soil, sturdy even in harsh winter season

Are its memories intact when cut & wrapped
    into a bouquet or pressed dry between the pages-             
       Or does it make new ones, birthing & rising anew-                  

I marvel at the mystery- 
    And I am content with not knowing more
       As I gaze at their beauty framing my window      

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

Sunday, June 16, 2013

The father's eyes

i'm shy
as a turtle
under this shell, i'll  hide
from everyone, yet you always 

see me

I don't want to come out to play. Photo by Jenn Jilks

you held 
me in your hand,
there's a twinkle in your 
eyes:   pride, joy, a tinge of sadness - 

i'm awed 

                                                                                Tree frog. Photo by Jenn Jilks

Posted for:   Imaginary Garden for Real Toads - Hosted by Kay
and Poets United - Happy Father's Day ~

Poetry form:  cinquain

Wednesday, June 12, 2013

Spring bloom

the way you swell:  
a fuller moon, a fragrant rose -
on my hands 

Picture credit:   Just a Picture

the way you tremble:
petalled pink, breathless wind, a dewdrop
on my lips

Posted for Poetry Jam:   Its All About Flowers
and Haiku Heights:  Ripple - It's been a while since I wrote haiku/senryu.  Smiles ~

Tuesday, June 11, 2013

The Immigrant

  This city is not our city.
  This hand which scrambles
  to find the file and pen
  like seagull scrunching for food
  in theme park is not our hand.
  This street which squeezes
  houses into perfect square brownies
  is not our street.
  The hours which consumes our day
  in the work factory and stores,
  are not our lives.

  This train ride is not our journey.
  Nor the food we buy in the cafes
  our nourishment, the bread that
  fills our hunger and wine that fires
  our blood like autumn burst
  in the morning dawn, scorching the
  trees of russet skein and golden honey.

  This sound from the radio is not
  my music. My mother’s music
  is raw & pierces my skin.
  This smog, garbage & decay-
  I do not own them.
  I eat, I work, I spend
  and put my aches in Ziploc bags.
  Every day, I trudge back to
  this roof and thin walls but this
  is not my home.

  This shiny fruit is not our fruit.
  The seeds in this package are
  dry and scentless.
  Until one night
  I dream of giant kites
  & skies bristling of tamarind fruits.
  The maple trees are showing me
  how to comb
  the soil to feel its teeth.
  How to grow
  my tongue,
  arms & feet.
  How to weave
  seasons & colors.
  How to cast my
  words like rice grains for my children.

Update:   This poem was featured in Boston Poetry Magazine.

Shared with Imaginary Garden for Real Toads - Nov. 15, 2013 

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - 100th OpenLinkNight - This post was written late last year and is languishing in my draft folder.   Looking back now, I have edited the ending and thought of sharing this to all of you.  Thanks for the visit ~

Picture credit:   Poetry Foundation - Snake  

Saturday, June 8, 2013


we climb out of our cars, straining 
to see the last harvest of full moon. 
The trees are silent as we're counting

each grain weaving across the dark sky-
each light sliding, skating the lagoon-
each verse stitching like a neat bow tie-

lustrous is canvas unveiling, awed 
are we to witness this feat: scooped,  swooned,
lifted like a gem - a night unflawed !


Posted for Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Nocturna poem and theme - I am hosting this mini-challenge this weekend.

Poetry form:  This is a 9 line poem (3 tercets) linked by the rhyme of the centre line. I have kept the 9 syllables per line (instead of 10) and have followed the rhyme scheme:  a. b. a. c. b. c. d. b. d.

Shared with Poets United

Photo credit:  here

Thursday, June 6, 2013

The night

Photo by Grace @ Everyday Amazing

the night 
brings the restless
words into open:  raw
as pitted seeds, bare bones, grieving 

of you -  

Posted for:   Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Nocturne 

Poetry form:   cinquain

Tuesday, June 4, 2013

Landays: The poetry of Aghan women

You sold me to an old man, father.
May God destroy your home, I was your daughter.


My body is fresh as henna leaf:
green outside; inside, raw meat.


I call. You’re stone.
One day you’ll look and find I’m gone.

Landays and Picture above from Poetry Foundation, June Issue 2013

Here are my own landays:

I walk each step as lightly as the wind.
My burgha covers my wounds, heavy as a mountain. 


I bathe, but this body belongs to many:
my father, my brothers & the old man with coins.


The words flow like honey from my hand.
I imagine your cheeks, like pages, pressing into mine.


Beneath this veil are the eyes of a bird,
even when it seems I have forgotten my wings.


I am more than just a stone.
Someday, I will build a tower for all my sisters.

Posted for OpenLinkNight of D'verse Poets Pub - June article of Poetry Foundation is dedicated to the Landays of Afghanistan..   I was reminded of how lucky I am to write freely, of poetry specially, without the threat to my life nor womanhood.

Poetry form:  Landay is a two line poem or a folk couplet, depicting the themes of war, separation, homeland, grief or love.  

Monday, June 3, 2013

where i was this morning

Grace@ Everyday Amazing

you'll find
me standing here-
bare toes against the grass,
with a yellow hat, greeting you

hello !

Poetry form:   cinquain

Saturday, June 1, 2013

In the shower

      the water divides // 
 my body into many parts- 

                        some i like, some 
                        i don't -                         

     in between the stone-scrubbing,
 i am confessing to the walls-

                        here's my unwanted cells, coarse hair,
                        the ugliest of my side, the words 

     i wanted to say but couldn't -
 take it all, aLL, ALL  //  i peer at myself closely:    

                       wrinkling flesh, scabs & purplish veins,
                       tiny freckles,  dry lips & unpolished nails-  

     as foamy suds sag under the weight, 
 i recite verses of contrition

                       you are beautiful, it wasn't your fault, 
                       don't be too harsh on yourSELF-- 

     the tiles are silent,  even the toilet   
 seat covers itself, not joining in the private chat-  

                       unlike in the public bathroom, i
                       let everything out, ouT, oUT, OUT until --

     there is nothing to drown into,  
 only a ritual of penance as I towel dry-  

                      groomed & scaled into a page,  
                      i step out &  

     write again-- 

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Hosted by Claudia, where we are writing bathroom poetry ~  How fun is this ~ Have a good weekend ~

picture credit:  here