BROKEN (a Quadrille)


Dreams exploding
like detonated bombs - 
that's the sound of our prayer.
Tears cannot fall fast enough
to drown our pains - 
could they be the rain
coaxing kindness to life
or the glue patching broken 
pieces with gold.
We are wounded
and we soldier on.


For DVerse Poets’ Quadrille prompt – Sound

The photo above is a picture of my sister-in-law's sculpture, a group of exploded heads, that sits in one corner of my in-laws' garden. I have long been intrigued by its theme. After I have written this piece which was inspired by current events (in London, in Marawi City, Philippines - my home country, among others recently hit by terror), I thought that my SIL's work fit the theme.

LEAVENED BREAD

 


Sugar comes back to our kitchen on Holy Saturdays after a forty day absence. It feeds the yeast that leavens the dough for our favorite Easter treat, Philadelphia Sticky Buns. My husband carefully kneads the rising dough and leaves it on a covered bowl to double. Then it will be kneaded again preparatory to a second rising.

While the dough rises, my husband prepares a bed of chopped pecans, corn syrup, and brown sugar in a pan to receive the sticky bun coils. When the dough is ready, our children fight over who will help their Daddy cut and roll the dough into little buns. Each will have a turn, each one’s concentration broken either by daddy’s admonition to put the  bun right side up in the pan or by a child asking, “Is this alright, Daddy?” Soon the pan fills up with dough rolls  distinguished by the age and skill of the hands that shaped them. After awhile,   the aroma of baking bread, caramelizing sugar, and roasting pecans wafts out of the oven and fills every corner of our home.

A season to bloom
the garden yielding its fruits
heading to winter.

For Dverse Poets Haibun Monday:  From the Kitchen of Poets

THE ART OF LOVE

Love casts out fear, it has been said
but I have never been as scared
as when I loved and gave my heart
to love's power and to its art.
To what folly have I been ensnared?

Alone, I fly free, as a bird
leading its wings to paths it dared
fly, with no one to lose or hurt.
Love casts out fear -

in soothing tones, it calls, I learned
and followed where my soul love steered - 
a full life seen from all its parts
as its Maker had planned.  His art,
Love, casts out fear.


~~~~~

Written for PAD Challenge - Day 3 - "_____________ of Love"
Linking with DVERSE OPEN LINK NIGHT

An attempt at writing a Rondeau.

SPRING DEER

He did not know what he was doing.
His brain was addled from the long winter - 
there was no more food in his part of the woods
His coat was getting dull
It was a matter of survival -
stealing into the orchard
to nibble at the blueberry  buds
just before the sun peeked in the horizon.
He was careful to stay hidden
behind the trunk of the big mulberry;
He had already made the owner quite angry
by his intrusions.
He was going to run
across the mounds of snow
just as he used to
    but he was 
    so hungry

         so hungry

             he had to eat

	         and 

                     eat 

		as much 

		as he 
			could eat.

he did not hear
     the house door creak

or 
     the shotgun's squeak

he did not heed
his sprinting herd

but he did 
feel
the   kiss 

of 

        lethal 
                    steel.


~~~~~~

For DVerse Poets' Anthropomorphism prompt by Lillian.

MAGNOLIA


My beauty lasts but a short time
and all I have, to you I give -
     My velvet blooms, capture in rhyme
     My beauty lasts but a short time
Before rains make my death knells chime
     I hope I lived my cause to live
My beauty lasts but a short time
and all I have, to you I give.


~~~~

For dVerse's POetics:  From Nature's Point of View

SPRING MORNING

Sundrenched mornings open the day
 sprinkling  diamonds on  sleepy grass
as mist lifts and then   dissipates
puffing the clouds dotting azure skies.

Sparrows twitter up on the trees,
glossy feathers waving in the wind
their bellies filled with early worms
once working on the warming ground.

Silken threads swing from budding twigs
luminous in the spreading light
bearing caterpillars searching 
for   some tender leafy delight.

Shadows recede and colors blur
as busy  folks rush through the day
but the ancient trees stand their ground
to weave  lace with their bursting buds. 


For DVerse's Meeting the Bar, Bjorn wants folks to write a poem inspired by impressionism.  I do not know if I cleared the bar, but it was sure fun thinking of spring. :-) 


HALL OF MIRRORS

 I am a hundred faces staring at me
 Unlike Narcissus, I am not thrilled by what I see
 Somehow, the faces are familiar and strange
 all are  distorted, even  grotesquely so -
 and their eyes, their eyes are accusing,
 sad, amused, angry -
 all at once
 Could that be me on the mirror?
 who am I
 who am I
 Where do I stand
 before the Eyes that know
 how the images combine?
 Who is the vision
 who is real -
 the ones I see
 or the one
 I perceive myself to be?
 Where is the truth
 out of this confusion?

For DVERSE’s Poetics Prompt, Lilian wants us to write about amusement parks, rides, state fairs, and such. For this prompt, I bring myself back to the Bangor State Fair in 2012. Contrary to the tone I used in the poem, I had fun in the Mirror Maze. It was one of the rare attractions that I enjoyed at the fair. I really do not enjoy the rides. They make me sick and make me deathly afraid. My poor children can never ever expect me to accompany them in their rides. The one time I was prevailed upon to take them to a kiddie plane ride, I screamed louder than my four year old. I really cannot fathom how people pay to scare themselves silly. 🙂 That’s just me – no offense intended for those who love roller coasters and such.