All The Small Things

Hurry across the promenade,
run your fingers upon the shallow depth of field
and embrace
the periwinkle silence that surrounds;
perhaps, I am a fool for being in love with small things,
the ones that often go by unnoticed–
the sounds of early morning,
sweet, melancholy song that’s sung aloud
almost teasingly–
the salt on my tongue is witness to the changing atmosphere.
A thorny bush of roses,
the smile that forms on your face
when you catch me glancing upon my shoulder;
tell me, would you exchange them?
Let go to the extent that fire in your soul is extinguished?
Poems carried inside one’s pocket,
coolness of early Spring air
and a kind word spoken;
these are the things that matter, don’t they?
Perhaps, I am a fool for being in love with small things,
the ones that often go by unnoticed.




Photo credits: Dream Portrait, Antonio Mora, Pinterest

Day 1 ~ April is for Fools and Poets

Posted for “Play It Again” @ Real Toads

Posted for Weekly Scribblings @ Poets and Storytellers United

Pink Moon ~ Part One: The upside of the in-between

Tossing and turning I drink the moon,
its tempestuous breath melding with my own—
I find the concept of ‘averting one’s gaze,’ slightly bewildering;
do they? Really?
Is that why we choke on reality?
Now that winter has moved on and the wind is ushering
apple blossom trees;
they never tell us about the brittle, naked limbs that stretch high
in the icy abalone sky—
I am slipping, stepping gradually through
the intricacies wedged within Spring are too small to see—
poetry after dark,
I want your lips, eloquent in their desire for a better world.
Leave me a note,
a whisper, a taste that follows into the stream of consciousness;
who can resist rejuvenation?
You set the pace for words to bloom, undismayed
I feel everything deeply: intentions, auras, acumen, flavours, nuances.
Is this not what the moon intended for us?




Photo credits: ‘Between,’ Painting by Mara Light, Pinterest

Posted for the Writers’ Pantry @ Poets and Storytellers United

Being a woman in times like these

Softly contumacious, embed the sun into our veins
it’s necessary
the blackness forms a sort of primeval aversion:
are we not entitled?
The rustling leaves whisper to each other
a story in their breathing;
“She was warned. She was given an explanation.
Nevertheless, she persisted.”
The simple sweetness of existing isn’t enough,
consolidate the orange torch of twilight
into our words,
the kind that enables others to find their own courage—
stretching out in front of me like a map
are approaching centuries,
its grid lines darker than threat of biodiversity;
I never understood
why rhetoric should remain outside the chambers,
are we not competent?
I have an answer against the anti-rhetoric of philosophers,
my tongue
a thin sliver blade raised; “let us, by all means, be lucid.”




Photo credits: Stanka Kordic Painting, Pinterest

Magaly invites us to write inspired by the quote from the description of “Nevertheless, She Persisted,” a flash   fiction collection published by 💝

Posted for Weekly Scribblings @ Poets and Storytellers United

Chaste Moon ~ Part 3: Consistency under all the phases

Isn’t that what the moon teaches us?
Forever tainted by deaths
and entrances,
its pout is invisible to the naked eye—
you strike to me as the dreamy type
and for reasons unknown
I am led deeper into your web.
A shadow of a dream, I think back to days of innocence
wandering the streets unaccompanied—
I walked in Spring,
dripping willows, old oaks and poplars;
one needs to go slowly,
know that soft tendril of whispered nothings means only
to tease us—
I am no longer fragile,
my pen dipped low in salted conversations;
the moon is aware of ballads resting upon our lips
the only question is,
can we tell the truth apart from lies?
The essence of my hot pink lipstick stain never betrays.



Photo credits: Pinterest

A Skylover Wordlist: Salt, conversation, parables,
ballad, death
and entrances 💝

Posted for the Writers’ Pantry @ Poets and Storytellers United