LITTLE DANDIES

Narcissus, hyacinthsnowdrops, tulips -above the dirttheir little heads poke Not to be outdonethe dandelions sproutsure of themselvesthey know their worth.They fill the fieldscarefree, unabashedas bright as sunshinestretch the golden flood – a feast for the beesfood for the hungryrelief for the achypetals to dye forintoxicating liquorbane of the lawnmowera harbinger of wishesa torrent of sneezesa

GOING HOME

The day is done her shift is over she treads the path in the edge of twilight she lets fall her mask unburdens her load finds herself – bare, unadorned, light – like a dandelion seed she soars towards the love of her soul. ****** Linking with DVERSE POETS PUB’s Quadrille #172 – “Shift”

PASSING

The hourglass had run out of sandThe attic had been emptied of memories -Stillness rattles in my bones. Deer frolic in the yard turkey feast on the fruits of the vineall their fear goneThe grass may now grow seeds could now rise to the heavenswhenever and wherever they pleaseNo more are the eyes watching the

AUTUMNAL

A lonesome bird sings the evensonghis frantic wings beating towards home.I count my treasures in the darkwhere suggestible senses hold little sway.Moments tumbled through my fingers,flickering shadows danced by candlelight.Would that I could keep only joyful moments;somehow laughter and tears look alike in the lens of time.Could a rose be parted from her thorns and

HOMAGE

I walk barefoot on the grass my homage to summer creature meets creature in the intimacy of touch I cup my hands around the stars constellations danced My spirit soared, my feet kept step with the night one by one, the fireflies’ light burnt out ***** Linking with DVERSE OPEN LINK NIGHT

AUGUST

In August, the rain takes a break and gallivantsall over the world, gathering vapor to complete itselfthe yellowed grass sometimes sways in the breeze like a satellite checking out the weatherah, poor Zinnia could only bow her head praying earnestly for a drop of waterwhile I sit in the shade – helpless -while I am

SECRET

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,

MUSINGS

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

WONDERING

No more are the violins playingno more music float in the airSilence is descending and here I am.Alone. Why do my hands have thorns instead of a song?my shoulders sag in the weight of memoryThose what-could-have-beens -If I only could set them in a tune – could be real Set into song Too many doors

OCTOBER

-i- Dahlias stand upright against Autumn skieslong 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 cupboardswaiting for the daysteeped in friendship and reminiscence. -iii- Voiceless faces roam the wildernessdrowning in words, seeking truthheavy hearts seek solace in a drifting