Poem Holding Its Heart In One Fist

A tribute response to Jane Hirsfield’s poem, “Poem Holding Its Heart In One Fist.”

And sometimes it’s better to counsel with our hearts

I have found that pink buds are perfect within

and destined to open.
Perhaps it’s the inclusion of personal pronouns
in daily life–
of singular I, me
and plural we, us.
A few more days of warmth and it would bloom
one need only be patient.

Even cherries as luscious as lips bear secrets,
no matter how swift we wish to extract
its nectar
ease out carefully using a chopstick
and the pit should fall through into the bottle.

As soon bathe in eucalyptus mineral bath salt
let go of the past
it’s searing worries and pain augmented
there are few things in this world that are better left

Yet, twilight disappeared over the horizon
the last vestiges of gutsy purple
robbing me of what little courage I had left
I stand with my soul stripped for the perusal of night.

This poem after several years of growing up
and wisdom
shall laugh and ponder upon with unrestrained tears
cherishing every moment.


Photo credits: Pinterest

Posted for Kerry’s Challenge @ Real Toads 

And on Open Link Night @ dVerse Poets Pub 

In City of Grey Mists and Unfulfilled Desires

A shade of forgotten dreams,
an hour
before sunlight hits the stream
here the water is emerald
darker in the shadows and restrained
in light,
I want to withdraw agony
and give it voice
witness stories unfurl from painted lips.

To the fury of gentle yet audacious heart
darkness is a love letter silvered
with legend,
its shimmering sentences like frost
at dawn
like the lost days of January,
my words catch fire only when I write
of you
when in a moment of weakness I drown
into your skin,
fear no more than a blank canvass

When the last rays of the raspberry sun
melt into grey
that’s when the cardinals begin to pair up
and sing,
sometimes I watch them for a while
as the blood runs cold through my veins
and I remind myself
you are now a breath dissolving into decaying city.

Darkness is longing
darkness is standing beneath a fragile sky knowing
you can never be mine
and when the moon arises right before soft lullaby
banishes the storm,
I shall surrender myself to the night. 


Photo credits: Pinterest

Posted for “Midweek Motif” @ Poets United 

Posted on Tuesday Platform @ Real Toads

Hours before love’s last breath

in the stillness of January, in neon lights
and empty streets
love walks a tightrope where once the grass
was green.
Now, bare bushes abjure sun
and shadow

knowing bowl of lilacs mourn
love’s memory;
she tries to remember a time before him.


Photo credits: Pinterest

Posted for Quadrille  #72 @ dVerse Pub

Late January

12 A.M.
I held my heart 
as outside it began to rain,
the cry of an owl
told me the uncaring knew not change 
they dupe the eyes of men,
dare I storm into their hideout and take a chance?

There is a colourable look that you wear
that maddens the eye and blows
my mind,

words that follow seem dipped in
shades of red,
this saucy drumming has given me a pain in my head. 
You see the problem with being the strong one
is knowing 
wooden hearts will never bend.
Come morning,
come lift me out from the cloud
of darkness,
this less than polite percussion and put my suffering
to an end. 

Like a smoldering sun,
January services like a drum 
and though the cold keeps surging through
my veins

I am embroidered with the sweet desire to live. 


Photo credits: Pinterest

Posted on Sunday Mini-Challenge @ Real Toads 

& Posted on the Poetry Pantry @ Poets United


Love poem to cover my bases

Like a cigarette raised to eloquent lips,
consumes one like the ocean
stretching itself until it’s only an inch away from toes.
In my mind 
there is a constant echo 
of the time I first saw you, the way our eyes met
across the hallway.
Tell me, is it just me
or was there something about the way wind blew
that made me want to reach out 
since feeling was fresh with bloom–

I walk towards you in a velvet blue dress,
with the reminder of an errand stirring inside my breast.
It felt natural,
it felt like morning falling into easy rhythm 
I am gloriously ignorant of years that are waiting to unravel themselves. 
What was it about you
that drew me like moth to a flame?
I wonder up to this very day
as the sun turns a shade darker, 
of berry, blush
and a thousand lifelong promises

I refuse to dwell in the past,
to be honest I am bored with the idea of you,
it leaves me yearning 
like a note slipped deep inside the pocket 
like a secret
I am tired of longing for deep conversation, of silken skin to peruse
and embrace
in truth you are travesty, a lipstick smear
and a stain
I am dangerously close to changing my perspective. 
is knowing I can’t have you. 


Photo credits: Pinterest

Posted for the Tuesday Platform @ Real Toads 

Posted on Open Link Night @ dVerse Poets Pub