January in the heart of a Poet

There comes a time
when desolate soul requires healing period,
its colors toned down
as though washed in translucent water 
kissing the brow 
a warm and pink shade. 

Late evening hush has come to the streets
as the last vestiges of sangria sun
over the horizon.
Such is life as dawn, decision
and determination
out of pure nothingness.

Starting over,
can either be the simplest
or the most frightening thing in the world,
be it a budding rose
or a blank page 
both in the end are represented
with a heartfelt wish, prayer and hope.
We are out there
breathing and searching for clues
in the darkness
knowing deep down that the right time,
sweet moment 
is waiting for us just around the corner. 

I am at a certain point in my life 
where every fibre 
every inch of my poetic soul 
yearns for renewal 
for a chance to leap forward and spring
into the world.


Photo credits: Joseph Zbukvic – Watercolor

Posted for ‘Midweek Motif’ @ Poets United


& posted on Open Link Night @ dVerse Pub

In The Midst Of Dark, Ominous Woods

I came across a moth
whispering confessions
in the midst of dark,
ominous woods
where even the softest susurration of leaves
is known to instill fear.
I breathe
taking in the scene before me
and felt as though a burden had been lifted
from me;
in its brilliance I found respite
never meant 
to flee.


Photo credits: Luke Ink Art

Posted for Art Flash 55 @ Real Toads


On a cold day in January

I have thought a lot about ache 
of being served acai bowl
with palm fruit 
as though I have been left with no choice, 
what if my soul desires acrid 
or is accustomed to gravel in voice?

What if I desire percussion
that breaks through windows of suffering
of city dust, 
I hear you pass with recalcitrant feet 
tell me 
is it obvious 
(since I am staring in your direction)
love is a malady, a rising
a lump in the throat that we all crave.  

I took a blood carnation
all the while kneeling at my bedside
and scribbled:
“Would that this velvet affair 
with my heart thundering down 
from heights,
the fire, the heat of my poems 
similar to one high on wine and bread,
and tomorrow
there is nothing more
that this Poet in me could ever want.”


Photo credits: Pinterest

Word List: ache, gravel, percussion, city, carnation, bedside, heat, bread, poems.

Posted on Get Listed January Edition @ Real Toads


Also posted on the poetry pantry @ Poets United