In the Pink City of my Heart

“Our hearts irrigate the earth. We are fields before each other.” _Thomas Aquinas

Speak to me;
inundate with your eyes until the fields are awash,
now and forever
in the pink city of my heart where we stand before each other—
feverish
and yet willing to bridge the chasm with wretchedness forgotten.
Come what may;
we must convey through a single ignition of this phrase,
taste the saltiness of each other’s views and opinions;
isn’t this what Persephone initially dreamed of?
I have seen many a cloud shudder when the earth’s shook
with flowers,
a cross between blood red and fuchsia—
dear harrowed, hapless and hurting, I am conscious of sharp tang
of emotional trauma and pain,
let your song hurtle through the startled air, uninhibited.
Sweet is the promise of rain after a long drought,
let me be the answer; let me be the answer.

 

 

 

Photo credits: “Rosy Fields,” 9×12 knife painting by Trisha Adams

Laura is our lovely hostess at dVerse where she invites us to let
our imagination be a springboard to the mystical.
Come join us! 💝

Posted for Poetics @ dVerse Poets Pub

Now that the leaves from the sugar gum trees have fallen

Basket of figs is enough to wish upon; 
saccharine, swirling dark empty spaces,
do they really exist for us to lose ourselves in?
For the avoidance of doubt
the chords of guitar have marked these fingers,
they are washed all over faded denim
snug, ripped at the knees and hot.
I’d like to think the one you conceal from everyone is visible
to me and my breath only;
stirred, the winter wind continues to blow
now that the leaves from the sugar gum trees have fallen,
they are so proud as though carob skin was their glory
all along-
they are instruments meant to cajole the swooping birds;
won’t you listen,
the bluegrass is something of a wonder that beckons
even from a distance.

 

 

 

Photo credits: Pinterest

Grace is our hostess today at dVerse with another prompt on
synaesthesia, this time on the cross over between music
and
color. Come join us! 💝

Posted for MTB: Synesthesia @ dVerse Poets Pub

They say only the south wind flattens grass

They say only the south wind flattens grass;
blows through with a force, a song so confidently sung
as easy as summer daydreams—
won’t you take a moment and hear what it has to say?
I have always loved the wind;
loved the way its giddy currents flow through woodland canopies
unaware
of how it can soothe those who can sense,
there are times when I can feel it within, the push and swirl
that stirring to show what is solidly there—
the myriad hues of new beginnings are punctuated
in shafts of pink light
one need only open their eyes and see;
the wind instills the willingness to lay bare one’s heart and soul
despite the chance that both could end up sliced to ribbons.

 

 

 

Photo credits: Boreas – John William Waterhouse Painting, Pinterest

Sarah is our hostess at dVerse where she invites us to pick a line
from “Surfacing,” by Kathleen Jamie and
use it as inspiration.
Come join us! 💝

Posted for Poetics: Travels in the Wild @dVerse Poets Pub

Lip Service

Wisps of silver grey smoke curl
and dance
their way through the room
as though anxious to escape the mouths
of perpetrators— is this what it means to abide by?
Sickly sweet,
I attempt to billow in dense clouds of conversation
in the hallway.

 

 

 

Photo credits: Fabian Perez Painting, Pinterest

Lisa is our hostess today at dVerse and the word is “abide.”
Come join us! 💝

Posted for Quadrille #117 @ dVerse Poets Pub

Memoirs Of A Burgeoning Poet

Whisper to me now;
always onward, always toward the flow of destiny.
Breaking deliciously off the trees is despair,
specks of mahogany, berry red and brown curl around the edge,
I am untamed,
my subconscious unfrosted unlike leaves at the mercy
of upcoming winter—
tell me, how does one translate emotion?
blushingly see the art of forming words in the shape of mouth—
it is the common failing of human mind,
a malady of sorts
where it continues to undermine, to underestimate itself;
be gone awhile,
I am heeding to the voice of unapologetic empowerment
that’s sounding from the rooftop.

 

 

 

 

Photo credits: Fabian Perez 1967, Pinterest

“I too am not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable, I sound
my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world.”― Walt Whitman

Join me as I host Open Link Night – LIVE event at dVerse this
Thursday on Thanksgiving 💝

Posted for Open Link #279 – Live Edition @ dVerse Poets Pub

Being unfamiliar with the sky that surrounds

Being unfamiliar with the sky that surrounds, I shied away from it,
leaves, these leaves  are a sole witness to the hues in me; why is it
that we are constantly shoved away from the child in us? The narrowing
streets, I am reminded of poetry by Frost during times like these, soon
the foliage around will alter from gold to brown – I have imagined them
like a garish quilt over the ground, perhaps if I saw them, I would write
verses half as brilliant as the ones before me.

We are constantly told to be different, to be bold, part of me wants to
breathe and close my eyes, perhaps observe the trees caught between
beauty and solemn earthy tones; we are so obsessed in keeping up with
the pace of the world that we forget to appreciate the small things, the
leaves have much to say about taking a more confident lead each day.

With footsteps forward
my dreams of soaring with gulls
will I remember?

 

 

Photo credits: Pinterest

Kim is our hostess at dVerse where shes invites to write
about a time when you last watched stars, a storm, the
ea,
an animal, or something else in nature that left you
with a
sense of wonder or awe. Come join us! 💝

Posted for Haibun Monday: Being but Human @ dVerse Poets Pub