Thursday, November 23, 2017

jellybeans with jazz






it starts breezy
your fingers slick, tingling
on guitar strings
murmur of leaves, falling  



then sharp stab
slurping my skin, milk-moon 
soft, honey-gold
& buttering my eyes
fringe of blue clouds



slam, slam, pour, pour
your ferocious heartbeats-
turn us to mindless waves
ride in - music -



we swish, rolling rhythm
pedals churning-
gathering us to heaven
gates, let's implode (again)-







Posted for dVerse poets Pub -  Jazz poetry with a lovely guest blogger, Amaya.  Come and join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.  Thanks for the visit ~ 



Tuesday, November 21, 2017

the bird underneath my winter coat




she is light as feather 
on the train, we're matching sweaters
but in my office, we're opposites 
as i pour over my sheets
she is leaning out of glass window
steeled by balconies, her flamingo
skin quivering among boxed flowers & fake grapes- 
her eyes far away, smitten with the lake-

there are city pigeons & gulls 
feeding near the trash bins, but her pulse
is untutored rhyme so she stays away
from gossips around the water cooler-
her sighs are blighted poetry 
scribbled hurriedly on paper napkins 

she leads a secret life,  
craving for sweet berries & a slice 
of honeycomb or mushrooms-
her screams are echoes 
of raindrops until 
every evening, i return home 

where i preen her wings
and we dance and swing  
to wild song of the wind
to hoots of night creatures
until finally
my chord hits a nightingale's note
she's a songstress in velveteen- 



Posted for dVerse poets Pub- Hosted by Kim Russell.  Inspired by the poem, The Heavy Bear who Walks with Me.  The challenge is to write a poem, of any length or form, about an animal in a human way or a human in an animal way, highlighting some trait of the animal/human that either sets us apart or brings us together – it’s up to you, just as long as the poem is new.

Monday, November 20, 2017

daydreaming




it's pink pebble
on palm of frothy shore

ringed by remnants
of corals, shells, dead starfish 

above, sun splashes blue sky
oblivious to the quarrels of birds

palm trees flick 
buzzing wings glinting of jewels

under striped umbrella,
snoring waves rock me to daydream  



Posted for dVerse poets pub - Quadrille  Hosted by Mish- 44 word post including the selected word, ROCK.   It's actually cold and chilly where I am right now.  Join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.

Thursday, November 16, 2017

November collections



I collect words
    they smell of coconut oil and thyme

I soak them in water
    warm as silent ocean, soft as clouds

Some of them swim to the
    blue map, ringing of certainty

But some of them gnaw 
    on my insides, growing eyes

Lidded with petals & loops
    raising questions & veins of wants

I breathe the tissue of my darkness    
    reeling in/out of my every heartbeat 

Come out of my mouth 
    before the year grows old with snow-





Posted for dVerse Open Link Night, hosted by Toni (Kanzensakura)  ~  A second offering for Lillian's prompt.   hanks for your visit.

Tuesday, November 14, 2017

at the streetville of flowers

they came with mops, brooms, 
   buckets on streets,
and swept off the beggars,
   homeless, clueless
addicts slumped on my feet-
   cruising between

my arms, spray-painted by  
   electric green
and psychedelic orange-
   my head, turban
of colorful stories-
   erased to white-  

i'm restored melody
   flowing breezy-
i'm saving grace among 
   eyesores & punks-
i flow as flowers do 
   flowering to the sky

shimmering false-blue hues-
   stop!  it's bleached!
the whole city is tangle
  of rotting bones 
coated with fresh garden air
  for VIP guests

so I stand still
  dreaming of sunflowers
buzzing of insects- 
  collecting rain in pockets-
my nose runny 
  with smog by whizzing cars 




  

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Street Art or Culture, Hosted by Lillian ~  This is theme: I’ve posted five examples of street art for folks and ask them to pick one and somehow write about it. Images in public domain at Pixabay.com. Only requirement is that folks post the accompanying image.

Monday, November 13, 2017

the long mo(u)rning




My mom comes to visit the graveyard to say her prayers.  The early November crowds have gone, and the solemnity has returned to the cemetery.  Her lips and fingers move around the rosary beads with ease.   As always, her eyes water as she sees my father's etched name on the grey plate. How each letter glitters like tiger's eyes under the dying sunset.  Though she has dedicated masses and special intentions, she wonders if he is at peace at last.   Is he still suffering or has he finally reunited with our Lord? Every night, she prays for a sign, message or a dream of my father's after-life journey.     Over the phone, I listen to her crying and questions.  I have no answers.                

snowy owl hoots
behind trees & carpet of leaves-
night is silent, starless-





Posted for dVerse Poets Pub- Haibun Monday, hosted by Victoria Slotto.  The theme is to
write about Fukuroo – the Owl. Owl is a winter kigo but you can write about any season. Please keep the prose to under 200 words. 

Thursday, November 9, 2017

jamming to strawberries fields forever



your skin
is sun-dimpled  
luscious silk that
when
dipped in petticoats
of cream
or chocolate
or brandy
becomes honeycomb
of sweetness 

plucked-  
i hear you
rinsing under water,
paring green leaves,
& quartering your heart
to vanilla-shaped florets-
readying your
siren song-
we turn to grinning fools
with butterfingers   

popped-
tell me,
when the full moon
rises, what will
we do with all this 
juice
stuck in our mouths-
red, of the purest kiss 



Picture credit:  here

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Meeting the Bar hosted by Frank Hubeny ~  Today we are writing about ODES (Poems of praise).     Pub doors open at 3 pm EST.   

Monday, November 6, 2017

Plastic cups of empty



city is
hard-wired to noise-
music, car tires spitting

between streetlights-
most trees are half-dressed
in orange pleats with rust-brown twigs

i listen
to last kick of leaves
hitting rain-puddled steps-

it echoes 
along with 
guitar's strings of busker, filling
our cups
of solitude





Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Quadrille, hosted by De Jackson ~  This is a 44 word post with the word KICK.   Join us when the pub door opens by 3 pm EST.

Thursday, November 2, 2017

November



the wind is blade
of ice, cutting through the skin-
November sky is wrinkled  
in steel- blue fur & grey scarf-
the fallen leaves dot
streets in golden light & fading ink-

in the yellow-domed cathedral
the people light candles for the dead
and bring fresh flowers & rain-
soaked mourning cards
for some, the memories of departed souls
is a fleeting strain of music
light as whiff of red roses

for others, grief is heavy as winter boots 
pounding the cobbled stones
searching for signs
to go somewhere, anywhere
but this void, festering wound
slowly turning the bones to stone

i wait for sunsets
magnificent light show 
of bleeding purple, 
bristling orange & raunchy scarlet ribbons, 
thick with wild-eyed ardor
for life, ever unfolding-     



For dVerse Poets Pub - OpenLinkNight - The pub doors open at 3pm EST.  Thanks for your visit.

Monday, October 30, 2017

petals of kindness


The city can harden your heart due to the toil of everyday labor and from beggars who make begging their job.   So when I witness acts of kindness from total strangers in the subway train, like giving up their seats for others, it reminds me that courtesy and kindness still abounds.    One even went out of her way to console a teary-eyed commuter.   When I have a chance, I give up my seat too when needed or share a tissue or pen when asked.   I believe in paying it forward, because I too was a recipient of kindness.  Years ago, I needed some coins for my bus home and wanted to break my $5.00 bill.  The woman offered her $1.00 coin, smiling and chatting with me and didn't asked for anything.  A small token, but a precious reminder - the seeds of kindness are everyone's reach.   

whiff of cold wind sends 
shivers of winter's dread- the dead
leaves petal the soil
         



Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Haibun Monday, hosted by Toni, Kanzensakura, where the theme is kindness and the prose part is 150 words or less.  Thanks for the visit ~

Thursday, October 26, 2017

Vermilion












between
sun glare
and
blue haze streaked with
black lava-


you,
maddening thirsty soil-
you,      
tang of frost on tilted dust devils-


you,
lost river
with little in it
to love-




Original Text:  Land of Little Rain by Mary Austin.








Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Erasure or Blackout Poetry hosted by Victoria Slotto. Come and join us when pub doors open at 3pm EST.  Thanks for the visit.

Monday, October 23, 2017

Walk with me by the Riverwood





tangerine leaf fell
not with creak-creaking sounds
nor screech-screeching seagull's cries
but with firm swish

into the river's belly,
mirror of lazy summer- 



tides gently rock
as blue sky pitches its ageless swansong



under his bug-bitten skin,
his heart was green
pasture, fluffy with cottonseeds-







Posted for dVerse Poets - Quadrille -  post of 44 words with the word CREAK.   Spent a wonderful autumn afternoon in Riverwood, a conservation area in our city.  Thanks for joining us.

Tuesday, October 17, 2017

Autumn





The green leaves are still clinging
to boughs
Only the sudden gusts of cold wind
tears the canvas
to a calligraphy of sticks  
beside mulched green apples
pregnant with smell of rain



I marvel the sea of colors-
greens, oranges & burnt browns
filling up the sky, with dots of
orange pumpkins, yellow corn squash-



This season is too short
much like a hurried kiss
pressed between hello & goodbye-
That space
between words,
unaccounted, yet a heavy presence- 


Still autumn never burns
deeply under the skin,
Don't leave me, ever-


Instead, I fall
rolling with the season - 
falling into the piles of dying things- 
entwining with black soil & seeds of spring- 








Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Poetics, hosted by Kim Russell - Thanks for the visit ~

Monday, October 16, 2017

We wore black






The world at the other side, is drily chaotic but still a beloved motherland.   I have come for the funeral but it felt like a homecoming.   For myself, I had prayed for peace for my ailing father, and a comforting life for my mother and sisters who have been caring for him. He was a difficult patient who knew his days were numbered. As I arrive at the wake, the traditions of grieving made everything familiar, and  reassuring - flowers, mass cards, consoling words of neighbors and friends, and the prayers for the dead for 9 days.   

Rains came at early morning, cooling the summer-like temperatures during the day.  Dawn was reddish grey, with gloomy skies.   When the rains break, it was steady humming on the roof and small garden.  We were lucky that on the morning of the funeral rites, sky held its peace & only gave away its tears in the late afternoon.

smell of fragrant roses
perks up my nose, but there're no flowers-
only dying candles-



Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Haibun, hosted by Bjorn Rudberg. The haiku happened to me.  


Monday, October 9, 2017

Thank you for counting the moonbeams with me!



I touched the dark-
ness

and felt the rage of
heavy rains-
intensity of lightning- 
bleakness of shadows-

Yet, I also felt light-
ness

See, up there-
the moon
single flower
blooms with fervor
(not hope)
its silvery sheen 
enough to blaze nightsky- 

Reminding me:
Flower!




Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Quadrille with host De Jackson.   This is a 44 word post with the word - HOPE.   Thanks for the visit!  And for my Canadian friends, Happy ThanksGiving!!!


Thursday, September 21, 2017

What is the c?lor



of the sky 
when the heart is feverish moon
grasping for air, refusing to fade in fire-
storm?



of his eyes
when thoughts are noosed in bullets
and every step is unanswered
question?



of the rain
when flood gates open, unmarking
borders, valleys & keys, leveling roofs to
pebbles?



of the sunrise
on the farthest side of galaxy
is it apricot or apple, behind cloudy mist?
or is it a mirror of emptiness, abandoned by dying 
stars? 

 
of my pen
when I forget syllables & taste of
pecan tarts & smell of wild red plum  
wine?
 



Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - OpenLink Night, Hosted by Gayle Walters Rose.   A late response to Bjorn's Poetic Prompt of writing a poem filled with questions.  Thanks for the visit.

Monday, September 18, 2017

I, a watercolor





My words are dark stones, dry and fading at night.  The burdens of city life staining my tongue ash and grey. I soak it in watercolors and river of calm.   I am very much aware that these negative thoughts are transients, like autumn leaves slipping away in the mercurial winds.  Each morning, I decide to paint my thoughts with nature's vibrant brushstrokes.  Why?   Because I know that I can heal myself, restore myself again when I am out of balance.  My writing is therapeutic and as I write positive affirming words, so I am lifted on wings of serenity.   

pumpkin-yellow leaf,
a still canvas of autumn-
gulls fly overhead-



Posted for Dverse Poets Pub - Haibun Monday, hosted by Toni (Kanzansakura).   Thanks for the visit ~

Thursday, September 7, 2017

Bewitching



Marmalade moon, fading by dawn's light
Allay our fears in these fig-shaped hearts
Garnish with herbs, root spices, sea salt
Impaled stones, melt to mirrors of light 
Cake our way with berries, ripe with stardust



Picture from here


Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - OpenLinkNight - Please join us when the pub doors open by 3pm EST.   A late poem for Paul's Tuesday Poetics, Magic and an acrostic poem for Frank's prompt last week. Thanks for the visit ~

Monday, September 4, 2017

September musings

A tree clothed in half green, half orange.  Morning sun is muted yellow, as leaves start to fall on field of green and purple wild flowers.   The colors of September are myriad and signals the changing season from long summer days to cooler afternoons.  The sunsets are coming earlier, instead of 9pm, often bringing rains at night.  Amidst faded summer petals, my hardy roses are blooming anew, as if on the second spring. And all because of the evening rain.   

At the home front, I am almost 1/3 empty nest.  Though my youngest is starting university tomorrow, she will be staying home as we live at the border of Toronto City.   She has new laptop, bags, shoes and clothes.  Though she revels in her new surroundings, she is not ready to live on her own, unlike her two older brothers.  She loves the comforts of home cooked meals and nice room.  I am mindful to keep a balance - giving her independence, while widening her boundaries. 

fallen green apples 
litter the rain-soaked ground-
grey-tailed birds perch, swishing-




Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Haibun Monday hosted by Kanzensakura ~  Please join us when the pub doors open at 3pm ~ 

Monday, August 28, 2017

a flicker between heartbeats


morning sky is grey hawk
of silence

tides are slow, lapping
white foam, waiting for canoes
to ripple the lake's corners

wildflowers stand on tiptoes
to catch sunlight, ripening peach
with rain-drizzled skin

i inhale deeply
        this 
curl of space
whisker of light
        bliss



At Maligne Lake, Jasper National Park


Posted for D'verse Poets Pub- QUADRILLE hosted by Bjorn Rudberg.   This is a 44 word post with the word BLISS.  Thanks for the visit ~ 

Thursday, August 24, 2017

between layers of worksheets



the words are morphing  
to pepper and salt
on drowsy cool afternoon

his mind, a waffle bowl
scoops two ice cream,
topping with chocolate bits, sliced 
peaches, berries & bananas

as sunlight ebbs on street curb
his tongue, dry paper, 
gobbles the sweet treat-

crunching the honey oats 
his thoughts unbound, swirling school 
of fish, gold and green as emerald lake

time to take a break 
& chase dreams with fishing nets






by Riusuke Fukahori

Photo from Colossal

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - OpenLinkNight hosted by Gayle Walters Rose - Thanks for the visit ~
This is a late response to the Poetics Musical prompt last week by Mish.   I chose:
"Chasing dreams with fishing nets" by Rain Delays, Crash Parallel   

Tuesday, August 22, 2017

monday's train journal

subway train rumbles on
        doors open, chimes

people hop in, and out-
         scarves, hats, jackets,

turbans, shorts, slippers, shoes-
         a sea of hues-

a woman with black veil- 
         pale girl with tattoos- 

an old man, with dirty cart- 
         lad with headphones-

i trace clouds & blue sky
         against gray steel

i am not colorblind,
         there are shades, tints

beyond my sunglasses, 
         borders to scale

in my mind, fenced by words,
         beliefs and faith-

i check them everyday-
         measuring depth,

levels of acidity-
         i seek relief in green

forest, calm acceptance 
         of mother nature-

i pray for roots of empathy, 
         seeds of kindness

to rain whatever hardness 
         is left inside-

slowly, surely, i work
         chipping corners-

here comes my station stop-
         i fold my edges

under red cardigan- 
         the crowd surges, 

giant waves, blurring our
         faces with sands-


Posted for D'verse Poets pub - Border Poetics.  Challenge:  To write about border theme and include the word "border" either in your title or poem. An extra challenge would be to write about the invisible border theme e.g. mental borders or imaginary boundaries.   The form and structure is your choice.

Please join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.  Thanks for the visit.

Monday, August 21, 2017

summer of 2017









We inhaled, slurped, nibbled slowly.  As if to prolong the sensation of awe and grandeur. As if we could not get enough with the first taste of  clean mountain air, the spice of rain on forest floor.  We hiked, grasped for breath and took lots of photos which can never really do justice to the area. We love the different facets of the mountains, blueness of glacier-fed lakes, rivers and valleys with thousands of evergreen pine cones.  And the giant rocks with ice glacier on top, that swallowed our vision.  

The road trip took us to two national parks, Banff and Jasper of Alberta.  It was our first time to visit the eastern part of Canada.  The call of the wild and footprints of the First Nations are dominant in the historic places.   Our spirits were restored, all stress forgotten.   We vowed to return soon. 

river tides are slow dancing
to wind's drumming song, we gaze
at elk grazing, sun-gold


Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Haibun Monday hosted by Toni, Kanzensakura.  Thanks for the visit.



Thursday, August 17, 2017

of tangerine dreams



i see your smile, shy-tangerine grin
behind the crab apple tree, sunset-stilled
you move slowly to pluck the ripe 
bearing fruits, licked by summer rain 

i taste wine & olives as i walk towards you 
but you're turning to a blur, mist of clouds
my feet are turning to quicksand as
you fade away, dreamscape in a fog-

how quickly i forget, time has hidden you
from me- you, fiery fire of my canvas-
you, deepest blue lake of my thoughts-

every night, even with my eyes closed
i can trace your face with my fingertips,
my love, sleep, until we meet again-




Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Free verse sonnet hosted by Bjorn Rudberg.  Join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.  Thanks for the visit.

Monday, August 14, 2017

I ink flowers on my hand



i have books to green my soul
        rather than wedding ring
i paint words to spark  
        rather donning colorful dress 

i can be   
more than wheelbarrow, a banyan tree 
more than feathers, an arrow for justice

-untouchable-
I am not, just 
a girl dreaming




Note:   I watched Daughters of Destiny:  The Journey of Shanti Bhavan, on Netflix.  I am blown away by Shanti Bhavan's mission to break the generational poverty in India by taking children as young as 4 or 5 years from the lower caste "Untouchables" and providing them with education and boarding up to college (17 years of care and financial support). More information on this non-profit mission here.  

Posted for D'verse poets Pub - Quadrille hosted by De Jackson.  This is a 44 word post with the word DREAM.

Thursday, August 10, 2017

Hiking up to Lake Agnes Tea House



my legs are jars of sand
fear's a spider 
climbing my spine, with last
part:  wooden steps

my breath mirrors shallow
lake on ice-capped
mountain, shimmering blue-
beehive of pines-

my tongue throbs for lake's cool
not warm green tea-
below, panorama
winks, bubbling green



Lake Louise from the middle of the hike up to Lake Agnes Tea House.  The trail took us 2 hours to climp up and 1.5 hours to hike down.
  • Elevation Gain: 400 m (1300 ft)
  • Altitude: 2135 m (7005 ft)

Posted for OpenLinkNight of D'verse Poets pub - Late post for the Quadrille of Fear last week.  Join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.   All photos are mine from my vacation in Alberta, Canada. Thanks for the visit.

Tuesday, August 8, 2017

Postcard from Lake Minnewanka, Banff



early morning sky
shades blue upon blue
-pale turquoise & dark cyan-
shimmering mirror of perfection

we gaze up
-reduced to pebbles- 
by mammoth giants of rocks
cradling the glacier lake

mountains are murmuring
to the spirits of the lake
we listen
-sussuration of tides-
echoes of resort village 
forever submerged in deep darkness

we scan for
footprints of mountain sheep & bears
but only 
lone eagle watches
from stone-hedged tree
its eyes, glittering
-clear as water-
wild as sunrise




Mount Inglismaldie, Lake Minnewanka
"Water of the Spirits"
Banff National Park, Alberta, Canada




Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Shade, hosted by Lillian for Poetics.  
Join us when the pub doors open by 3pm EST.  
During our boat cruise in Lake Minnewanka, we were lucky to spot this beautiful eagle on the tree (top right side of photo).  Thanks for the visit.

Monday, August 7, 2017

Postcard from Medicine Lake, Jasper



Photo by Grace@Everyday Amazing


The Excelsior fire in summer of 2015 left the forest a fragment of its lush vegetation.  Tall skeletal trees, burnt logs and roots, form a silent graveyard.   The rain had stopped the wildfire from wrecking further havoc on the small town of Jasper, Alberta province.   The area is a grim reminder of the harsh realisties of wildfire during summer.  

Around the flanks of the forest, lake rises up to vibrancy during spring and summer. The clouds can be dark from the distance.  But the tides are calm, soothing balm for the place of what was once a firestorm.   What once was a carribou country where the First Nations thrived.   The contrast of lake's startling beauty and emptiness from wildfire surrounding it, is a visual and spiritual experience. The area may not be a tourist perfect area.  Yet here is where life and death intertwined.

cloudy morning
two bald eagles nest on a tree-
wind cries - distant drums -




Photo by Grace@Everyday Amazing
Medicine Lake, Jasper National Park
Alberta, Canada



Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - How Wonderfully Imperfect (wabi-sabi) for Haibun Monday, hosted by Victoria C. Slotto.  Join us when the pub door opens by 3pm EST.  I am back after my Alberta vacation.

Thursday, July 20, 2017

blue summer



the morning sky shimmers, powder
blue, light as flour -
scattered snow clouds
train of lace crowns -

pear trees are breezing open, flutes
ringing with fruits
green, small as thumbs
soon, sweet on tongues

daffodils and white asters sway
peach blossoms splay
summer calls, blurs-
you are not here




Photo credit:  here


Posted for dVerse poets Pub - Form for All, hosted by Frank Hubeny.  Please drop by to learn more about the minute form, starting at 3pm EST. The form requires three stanzas of 20 syllables each. Each stanza has four lines. The first line has 8 syllables and the next three lines have 4 syllables each. If that is not enough constraints, the poem is expected to have end rhymes for the three stanzas that go aabb ccdd eeff.  More information on the dVerse site.

Tuesday, July 18, 2017

The windows of our memories


the long day shifts, shadows,
calls us, church bells ringing

we chafe, bickering with
each other, reluctant

to let go of summer
games, flowers, dewdrops

we slurp cool water, draw
curtains to the side, breathe

growing silouttes of
twilight, bowstring of hues

as sun finally dips beyond lake,
all our windows opening

to catch the light, we brush
with watercolors in our eyes

to hear murmur of insects
we jar, along with smooth stones

those carefree days have long gone
by distance and choices

i sometimes wonder when
dusk comes, and moon is still-born

if your windows are still 
opening and and listening 


Long window overlooking the back balcony
Good thing the weather was sunny, not rainy.


Posted for D'verse Poets Poetics - Looking Out/Looking In, hosted by Lillian Hallberg ~

Thanks for your visit ~