The chase

         I snuff out the candles in our room.
It is the time:  a forest awaits
for a hunt, breathless, under our bare feet.  
         Moonlight blazes above the sky,
         stormy as your eyes.

        In my dream before reality,
I am the hunted wolf  & you, the hunter.
You scent me better than the hounds,
        grounding me, my heart beating
        louder than my legs.

        You take your knife, slicing
me open like an offering, our bread. 
There is the taking & the giving-     
        as I burn, sliding down
        your throat like wine, feral & heady.

        Soon a heart
grows underneath my ribs.   Pulses  
and stretches like branches, into a tree.       
        My eyes hold your whispered awe, 
        tender  as  spring.

        We chase 
again.   But  I  do  not      let        you 
find    me          easily
                                        this       
                                                       time.

Posted for:   D'verse Poets Pub: OpenLinkNight - Every Tuesday, starting at 3 pm EST. Thanks for the visit ~ 

Picture credit:  tumblr.com

When spring comes

Unlatched,

spring explodes - this:

 - pouring rain, river spell-     

painting a canvas, oiled & dabbed,

breathless-

Unlike

any art frame

-you in me, me in you - 

layered in light, grey & darkness,  

curled tight- 

fisted,   

where the flames lick  

the sheets, we love harder--

bonding -- and this is where language

fails us -

Posted for:   D'verse Poets Pub - OpenLinkNight - Thanks for the visit -
Poetry form:   cinquain (2-4-6-8-2 syllables)

Picture credit:   tumbler.com

Post-valentine note

I love spilling the page     I love ripping pages
I love falling over & over     I love pause
I love feverish words, climbing like ants, blind as bats

I love silver teaspoons    I love spooning at night
I love long afternoon walks     I love getting lost
I love red, reddish & magenta like sinful velvet cakes 

I love heat & pancakes for breakfast    I love fast & slow
I love opening small boxes    I love putting ribbons in boxes
I love pattern of leaves, rings in trees, streaks of sunlight  

I love the smell of fresh coffee    I love dancing to Latin beat
I love sizzling steaks      I love sea salt baths
I love hiss-hiss-hiss of teapot    I love tip-tap-tip-tap of rain

I love melting snow      I love melting together    
I love skin      I love scents     I love colors   
I love waking up to another day with you--

Posted for OpenLinkNight of D'verse Poets Pub (starting 3pm EST)

Using some Poet's tool box and Mayer's Experiment- Making use of repetition ~ Thanks for the visit ~ 

Missing you

first blush of snow

fell this morning 

 - the color of sadness

   is white -

bereft of sweat, and 

memories of your hands  

rough as brown soil

trailing my inner thighs

your soft lips

opening the core of me

stains the bed sheets

stormy sea and darkest sky

- the taste of black tea 

  is spicy - 

devoid of secrets-

the room becomes just another room 

white walls, full of unopened boxes 
cabinet shelves, bare of cutlery   

but aches - sealed tight in jars  
and papers - inked by echoes  

of your words, slow gentle rain

on my face, canvas of longing

- without you, 

  all seasons are the same -

Posted for:   D'verse Poets Pub - Missing You -
Hosted by Stuart McPherson

I am happy to be on-line and devoting more time to writing ~ 

Thanks for the visit ~  









Picture credit:   here

When the night falls

when the night falls,
i search for you  

bare cusp, 
trembling like last leaf on branch 

my fingers run along the shape 
your face and torso

warm like red purple skies
as you hold me

in the evening cold
your real colors - smell of earth  

paints my pale skin golden sun,
lips wet as ripe plums    

the autumn window
makes me restless and eager

to behold twilight's awakening
sweeping the river gorge

electric blue, succulent grapes 
it is majestic  

as your serene eyes draping mine
when the night falls






Note:  My posts this month will be few as I will be studying and taking my certification exam by the end of the month.   I hope to visit you when I can.  Thanks for the visit ~  

The distance between us

there is a river inside my chest
    when i think of you 

one year has passed like 
   a heart beat from yesterday

some days, i make paper boats
   out of the love poems i have written 

some nights, i fold them in origami    
   stars and hang it over the silk lantern    

where the moon catches and strings them   
   like tea lights across lavender skyline         

you in the crowded, scorching city,    
   me in the park smelling autumn leaves 

across the ocean, you pass by rice fields,  
   while my nights scent of red apples and pumpkins 

i imagine you falling   
   to greet me on my arrival, kisses  

red as poinsettias, fiery as raindrops,  
   closing space, gaping emptiness, with a firm snap,  

nuzzling cheek, inhaling all our memories,  
   whilst i melt like snow    

  


Posted for:  OpenLinkNight of  Imaginary Garden with Real Toads (Monday) and D'verse Poets Pub (Tuesday) 

- Thanks for the visit ~

To stay

It is I

knocking at your door,

not as a beggar nor

with a question

but someone who has written

the saddest song, 

the loneliest poem 

diminished,
a fraction of lemon leaf, 
bereft of scent and colour 

fear has stilled my fingers 

wanting to pull you under the water tide,   

melting in the roughness, 

arching feet in foamy sands 

i have come

as one who now cries at every moon rise,

wretched with summer's brevity,  
weary of long roads, 

my hands searches

for your light and steady gait,

even your shadows comfort me

I am knocking

not to leave you again

but to stay

yes, to stay 

Inspired by Pablo Neruda's The Question  -  When I don't know what to write, I turn to reading Neruda's poems.  A light piece for this long weekend ~  Back to work on Tuesday~  

Posted for OpenLinkNight of Real Toads  - Monday
and D'verse Poets Pub - Tuesday   

Of this morning sun and peaches

the sea tide followed you this morning, 
clinging to your hair, dripping of corn and sun 
bursting at the seams with rounded seeds 

the shell case broke open, replete with seeds, 
and for the first time, my tongue tasted morning, 
naked, lush pulp, succulent fruit under bittersweet sun 

nothing prepared me for you, flaming the sun 
sky with words drizzling like apple knotted seeds, 
staining my room forever silky bold, unlike any mornings 

this morning, sun dawned, tinged red of pomegranate seeds


~0~0~0~



She wasn’t petite  nor blushing peach lady.    
Tall with broad arms, sturdy legs, like her Dad
except for soft brown eyes.
Fiercely ambitious, she tackled her career,
like a charging bull.   

But, when he finally proposed after 7 years,
She melted, purring like kitten.                    
Nowadays,  her smile eclipses 
diamond-studded ring which she proudly wears.   

First post:    Posted for D'verse Poets Pub:  Tritina

Second post:   Flash Fiction Friday - A post in 55 words, for the G-man.   An office mate recently got engaged.

Thanks for the visit.



picture credit:   here

Summer memories

Do you remember the creek behind our homes
where laughter pelted the guavas and star apples, 
ripe and crunchy in our mouths and billowed bellies,   
throwing stones at frogs croaking in summer heat  
  
                  Do you remember the road trip we gifted us: 
                  golden silence and magical windows we drew,
                  on coconut palms we traced our golden future, 
                  gazing at the sky, endless and blue as your eyes 

Do you remember the garden blooms you plucked,
the last day we exchanged promises, kisses deep
now withered red, like yesterday's harvest grapes     
bottled in wine cellar, labelled memories to keep                    

                 That time is like white sandbar in Pacific Ocean, 
                 which appears and disappears in the sea foam,  
                 we wade to go there, where nothing is waiting,     
                 yet find that everything is waiting, 


                 waiting for us 

  
Posted for :   OpenLinkNight of Real Toads and D'verse Poets Pub

Thanks for the visit~ 

picture credit:   here

Sand-washed afternoon

under the lemon sun 

even fresh red strawberries 

bruised dark purple under the scorching heat     

i discovered finally

how soft and yielding 

beach sands are under my paper-paled feet,  

how sweet watermelon and cantaloupe slices tasted

as your kisses lingered in the afternoon empty of expectations

plastic cups, filled with fresh water and knotweeds,    

salted our tongues, nibbling crispy chicken wings in disposable plates,                  

  

under big umbrella, wind-swept hair swayed to maple-leafed kite,  

fingers drumming faster and faster to touch the canvas sky  

the untamed grass, sand dunes falling into bamboo mats,     

wild sea alighting on your eyes, sweat running down bare belly               

i collected the smooth stones, pebbled grey and warm corals, 

into an endless necklace, i twined them, 

sea-braced memories and sand-washed poems 

Posted for the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads and D'verse Poets pub:   OpenLinkNight


We had a long weekend holiday as July 1 is our Canada Day.  Thank you for your visits.   


I appreciate them.


picture credit:  here

Slow beating of the night

Clasp your moon heart to mine

in the swelling waves of shadows,

closely entwine our cold hands  

like twin seed pods with wings    

Carry me across the ocean steps

where the tide is blue and sand washes 

shore in quickening shades, elusive wind

to artist's fingers huddled over the canvas

Love, because of it, hold me close   

as if an arrow pierced your side, 

as if it is the last call of midnight train 

hurling over the bridge of mud stones

Tie your heart at night to mine, love*,

so I awake to slow beating of your

chest underneath my palms, to the breath

of summer and crust of freshly baked bread       

"So that our dream might reply

to the sky's questioning stars

with one key, one door closed to shadow."

Lines and Inspiration from Pablo Neruda:   Tie your heart at Night to mine, Love

Posted for:   Imaginary Garden with Real Toads and D'verse Poets Pub : OpenLinkNight    

picture credit:   here

Summer flight

I leap straight into your arms
without looking down
as if I knew you would catch me:
caterpillar hands, dragonfly wings


I gaze at your lips as if I have kissed
them a thousand times in my head, slowly
my fingers travel to your waist and hips,
as if I knew them intimately, smoothly


the seas I have crossed are red
coral reefs still cling to my russet face 
I even smelled death on an old man's tears
and green is my favorite color      

my wings bring me here today 
I don't pretend to understand you wholly 
except that your words storm the shores of me, 
sailing my white tidy boats to voyages unknown  


hold my face cresting on your chest, 
it's warm as the summer grapes 


   
A poetic response to :   Your hands by Pablo Neruda 
"When your hands leap
towards mine, love,
what do they bring me in flight?"


For the D'verse Poets Pub - OpenLinkNight - every Tuesday at 3pm EST

Thanks for the visit and smiles ~   Happy summer day ~


Picture credit:  here

The moon

i draw my words
in your arms each night
sometimes the verse knots  

silver    strands  in  your  hair
sometimes the  phrases disappear
under  the  grooves  of  your cheeks
sometimes the  lines fold under the back
 of your knees or the arch of your foot
oftentimes  the   letters freely  fall
black  sea  pearls  on  your   hands


raw,     unpolished,     unmetered


your fingers touch coarse  edges 
inhaling red sea  and  oak forest 

  moon comes alive on your skin   


i write again
  

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub:   Open Link Night

Doors open every Tuesday starting at 3pm EST.   Thanks for the visits and smiles.     

picture credit: here 

Secrets

there are secrets we hide
when we go down the grey subway steps 

                                                                        the water was warm as the afternoon sun

                                                                        touching our boat, into the underground river

  

squeezed into the train corner,
not a muscle twitching as we read
our morning papers, a coffee in hand

                                                                        with our rain jackets, we rode into the mouth of the

                                                                        river shrouded with bats and flashlight,

we took in all the sights and sound of the cave, all senses alive 

                                                                                                                                                                  

as the train rolls and heaves
underneath the suits and heels
we hold our nostrils and our opinions
politely, our eyes peering the dusty floor

                                                                       as the paddle boat inched along dark wall,  

                                                                       your hand found me, followed by your lips 

                                                                       warm as the volcanic and granite stones,

                                                                       maps forgotten as we relished our exploration

the train halts on our station, we excuse
ourselves, and step into the steel pathway,
along with the rest of the crowd, we follow
shuffling our feet, bells ringing as doors close 

                                                                                     

                                                                       

it was an adventure of  the sun and islands,

the passageways in the dark tunnels smelled 

                                                                       our primal emotions, unleashed like piercing 

                                                                       cries of the bats clinging on the ceiling cave

  
we work and smile, great weekend, thank you
all polite, nice and routine as the subway schedule

                                                                       as the sun went down, we held on to each other

                                                                        fiercely as lovers departing on opposite platforms  

                                                                     

trying not to exhale the spice in our tongue 
trying not to burst into tears at the sight of the sun    

there are secrets we hide

when we go down the grey subway steps 

                                                                                

Posted for :   D'verse Poets Pub - Subway



picture credit:  here

The nightmare

you are running after me
in a never ending circle


a snake, or bear, sometimes shapeless,
faceless but always looming black  


timpani drums shake
as you reach for my ankles


then my legs, my arms
enfolding in quicksand tide 


helpless, you drool mud over me,
placing seeds of mustard on my tongue


holding me close against coarse cheek,
sinking deep in the muck, i hear your fears  


ricocheting, 
                     prickling against my breasts,
bleeding,   
                     running down my thighs 

the madness of which you can't speak
the dark thoughts of which you can't escape 


becoming  m i n e  


knotting my fingers in a prayer, gibberish words flowing
i wallow in my sweat, impaled by my sins, 


while tangled in white sheets,   
you sleep, 
                 breathing easily for the first time 
                


Posted for D'verse Poets Pub:   Nightmare Verse hosted by Stu McPherson 
Shared with Poets United.


picture credit:  here  

Grandma's words

you say you know what life and love is all about ?
let me tell you young lady, that you know nothing 


not until you walk the jungle, following your gypsy lover,
in your army boots and knife in your trembling hand, 


fearing the gun fire or sword from the soldiers of rising sun 
will spill the guts of your fair eyes mate on war torn soil 


not until you build a house with your splintered hands,
paint the rooms, scour the floor clean of dust and cobwebs


giving up your carefree days of milk and sugar
to care for sons and hungry children in the streets   


not until you keep your demons at bay, not with pills,
but with day to day toiling, coating your nails black oil  


spitting out truth as you see it in your whiskey laced voice
accepting hard knocks of your choices with a straight back,   

not until you turn your face at night with the full moon 

suckling your brown breast, cheeks flushed in tropical heat    


you curse, damning your man for his lust for other women,    
yet turning the other cheek for his embrace, forgiving

until you close the door, in your widow's
dress, and cry until your eyes held no more tears


holding the baby in your arms, your grandchild, 
your great grandchild, so fair with his brown eyes, can you hear


the song of wild beauty,  mighty 
strong to pierce and heal your feeble heart ~

Reposted for:   D'verse Poets Pub:  The Best ~  Happy Anniversary ~

Written for OpenLinkNight of Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - every Monday
and D'verse Poets Pub - every Tuesday starting at 3 pm EST


My blog is word verification-free for your convenience. Just don't spam me and we are good ~ To read my poems on other stuff, please check out my other blog.    Thanks for the visit.  


Picture credit:    here

Temptation

temptation came by the window
bold and inviting were his words:
what if, why not, and right now


inhaling his challenge, she slithered 
closer and danced up a storm, found 
she likes spicy food, and can lie smoothly   


locked in his firm arms, she learns her flaws




Posted for Imaginary Garden with Real Toads:   Prompt is Temptation by Fireblossom Fridays.

Strong

Kneeling to slip off
shoes  
massaging calf, he trails
warm hands on her smooth skin


he will show her
how strong he is,
warrior king,  
carrying her effortlessly

Kneeling to slip off
shoes,
massaging legs, she tugs
to unbuckle his pants


she will show him
how strong she is,
warrior heart,
helping him walk again  



Posted for Flash Fiction Friday - Tell a story in 55 words - For the G-man.
I just learned that an officemate, newly promoted and young at 34, was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis.      


picture source:  here

Spicy

she is unforgettable:   gourmet cook, 
skin soft as white magnolia petals,
lips warm and heady like his scotch whisky 


when she showed up one rainy morning, 
he feasted on hot Spanish chocolate cups,
honey tangled churros, and spicy chorizo  


fire on his tongue, he doesn't want to dull with cream                                    





Posted for Poetry Jam:   sensual poetry
Shared with D'verse Poets Pub:   Open Link Night - hosted by Joy Ann Jones


Poetry form:   Sevenling- a poem of 7 lines.