It blooms in spite of shadow, lure of dismal, dreary and dark,  where grey clouds caress with soft, ethereal light as I meandered and curled through a long and winding path.  It seemed almost natural and all the while I kept my eyes on pale and nodding grass, the sweet conviction tasted as honey  and milk, as … Continue reading Evening Primrose

Dawn delicate,  durable,  dreaming, bursts through the clouds as I look back swallowing the last bits of a black bean breakfast bowl.  I cannot forget headlines leaping out at me from the television, the newspaper, cannot disregard feeling of dread swirl of smoke  and drowning hope in the drinks of Poets  on the other side of … Continue reading The Peace of Wild Dawn

Morning tiptoed silently into the darkened room, followed by clouds that blush like tangerine and plum as I wake with dreams merely forgotten not erased. ~ a moment when we know it's December ~ Leaves detach from boughs and are translucent as paper urging me to gather fragments of thoughts and recognize ardor that longs … Continue reading December, world as described in the heart of a poet

I have seen white blossoms fall into the lake regardless of political storm  that surrounds it, witnessed men build dreams conscious  of suspicion that destroys it. This is not anywhere else  but here in our heart that we find conviction, I won't tell you  because you already know how to do it. And when the … Continue reading Letter composed on the corner of 26th Street

Winter, the red fading slowly from petals each day and though foliage sleeps a smile forms upon despairing lips. I used to believe one could never be cheerful while dealing with an uncertain future, believed before you stepped into my world and instilled hope.   Photo credits: Kai Oberhauser, Unsplash  Posted for 'Quadrille #70' @dVerse Pub  … Continue reading December, as hope enters softly

A smile, a dialogue and gentle tap on the shoulder is all we need to unravel the pain swirling in a smoke behind silent eyes. I can feel words watching, wanting and just waiting to spill out, I can feel moments which lie between the sun and cloud, calling for me to save a life. … Continue reading Between the sun and cloud

This morning wasn't grey  rather it was dipped into soothing lavender  as silence  is replaced by sounds of early traffic. Carefully, the white-heaven bound birds  glide down  bringing with them freshly baked hope, as I manage to pull myself out of bed. Feeling  then calls me to the things of this world to madness to chaos  … Continue reading Lavender Sky

Inspired by the poem "and the days are not full enough," by Ezra Pound  If ever the sky above is grey, and memory along with wisteria compels our understanding, then it must be December. Hardly  do I await the rising sun hardly do I remember the last time my heart had sung when daily chores finish and a … Continue reading Deep is the song that echoes on a winter night

Softly my insides burn upon the gradual unveiling of want, its rough religion which sought to recite itself as a monologue knowing that strength is depleted. Your eyes swiftly glance and thumb through like a manuscript, your hands touch me in places unnameable as though aroused by the thought of corrupting sweet innocence, before you … Continue reading Desire, when autumn leaves drop in sudden gusts

Spoiling me with the lightest brush of your lips, a smile a parting and sweet disorder. I reckon you know what goes on inside my head long after your gaze leaves the room, aware that the last strawberry would taste the best of all.   Photo credits: Pinterest  Posted for 'Quadrille #69' @ dVerse Pub … Continue reading November 18th, notes for further study