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A POEM

wINTER mOON

A flower of the midnight garden,
I am cocooned in dreams and lullabies.

My petals are words opening to the moon
(aching to be born) –

The solitude of night is home,
The silence is sweetness welling
anointing me with its perfume.

Here I am, a thought, a bud
waiting to be
beneath the vast expanse of galaxies.

I am mist that rises
when daybreak comes.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Ah, it’s been a while.

For DVERSE POETS’ PUB’s Open Link Night.

AUGUST

In August, the rain takes a break and gallivants
all over the world, gathering vapor
to complete itself


the yellowed grass sometimes sways in the breeze
like a satellite checking out the weather

ah, poor Zinnia could only bow her head
praying earnestly for a drop of water

while I sit in the shade -
helpless -
while I am squeezed
of all bits of moisture


Sometimes the skies tease
with grey clouds and the rumble of thunder

hope, like hot air, rises
only to dry up -
forecast rain is all fake news


still the garden waits
with baked earth and fat zucchini for her honored guest
A tongue-in-cheek piece inspired by DVERSE POETS' Poetics Prompt - Sometimes August Isn't Recognized - and linked with Open Link Night

SECRET

TREECARVING

Your name was carved in my heart
Long before I fell in love

Its sound rolled as velvet in my tongue
Its form gave art to my hand.

And yet, and yet no one knew
About this spell that turns my day
From gloom to magic in a breath

This secret I buried, deep within,
Lest thoughtless ears spirit it away
Leaving myself exposed
To heartbreak and disdain.

How long can passion be suppressed
Until its steam rises to the surface and overflows
My lips shaped the contours of your name
and engraved them  in the air

that wherever the wind blows

my love will be there.

MUSINGS

smurf copy

The days become a giant clock and I,
its moving hand, marking the hour
remembering the time, the same as
what is gone, the same
as what is to come. Days, hours
minutes fold into each other

indistinguishable. Perhaps, it is
all a trick of the mind – the walls
preserve life, the walls take away
life. Outside is as far as an arm stretched out
of the window, so within reach, so out of reach
are all those things I took for granted

in my solitude, everything has meaning
and everything means nothing.
Life seems a dream –
Am I awake or am I sleeping?

WANDERINGS

No more are the violins  playing
no more music float in the air
Silence is descending
and here I am.

Alone.

Why do my hands have thorns instead of a song?
my shoulders sag in the weight of memory
Those what-could-have-beens -
If I only could set them in a tune -
could be real
Set into song

Too many doors open
the melody gets lost in the illusions.
Clouds gather, lights fade out
The plaintive voice of night enchants
these shiftless thoughts
and leave them lonelier than before.

_______

Just a random poem written on a rather lazy afternoon.

OCTOBER

Between 2 Trees 2

-i-

Dahlias stand upright against Autumn skies
long after the sunflowers have fallen;
Flowers have turned to fruits,
empty spaces grow in the garden.

-ii-

Flowered teapots speak of happy days,
sit pretty in the cupboards
waiting for the day
steeped in friendship and reminiscence.

-iii-

Voiceless faces roam the wilderness
drowning in words, seeking truth
heavy hearts seek solace in a drifting leaf
their shadows disappear in the mist

-iv-

weary feet trace the path of meditation
beneath the weight of silence
they go in circles
seeking answers to unknown questions

-v-

My heart blooms pink on this October morn
awash with blush in the horizon
The sun rises -
even when the night seemed endless.



Here’s hoping that this piece meets the bar with Dverse’s Poets’ Cadralor poetry form prompt.

TO A HYDRANGEA PAST ITS PRIME

You have lost the vibrance of your hues
Your blushing pink, sweet lavender, or sky blue
Have long faded into sage green leaving
Faint traces of what you once were
Hinting of what will be.

Veins on your petals write
All the summer days and all the stormy days
That deepened your roots.

You have changed
You are changing
Yet in this world of mist and ashes
You are beautiful –

Always.

SEASONS

Sunflower, bent with age, lets fall her seeds
September brought the chill to August’s swelter

Summer’s grandeur is on the wane, and I
Squirrel away its taste and fragrance

Serene is the sunlight filtering through the window
Shining on memories

Songs and words have forgotten
Solitude hovers in the horizon

Sparrows dance a merry dance for the seeds in abundance
Southward flies the migrants

Steel shovel makes holes for the mums
Spring will surprise with what returns