MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
5th Sep 2017 5:37pm
5th Sep 2017 5:37pm
we are nothing but dreams
dusk spreads its wings for the weeping
and my fingers follow slow, quivering
gathering last of dew from leaves
there under the Eucalyptus tree
i see you waiting, golden sliver
in your eyes and metaphors
dripping from your tongue
i drink every word drunk
in yesterday's wine
listening to songs of
your heartbeat before dawn
the tormented ocean whines
at our feet
recedes
greeting with salty kiss
and
i fail to answer your questions
my gaze resting on fallen stars
knowing soon you'd vanish ...
and my fingers follow slow, quivering
gathering last of dew from leaves
there under the Eucalyptus tree
i see you waiting, golden sliver
in your eyes and metaphors
dripping from your tongue
i drink every word drunk
in yesterday's wine
listening to songs of
your heartbeat before dawn
the tormented ocean whines
at our feet
recedes
greeting with salty kiss
and
i fail to answer your questions
my gaze resting on fallen stars
knowing soon you'd vanish ...
129 reads
18 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
1st Sep 2017 5:34am
1st Sep 2017 5:34am
Abstractions
An eye blinks
more times than needed
15-20 times per minute lasting .4 seconds, 1200 times per hour, 28,800 times a day
10% of waking hours adding up to five years of our lives roaming with our eyes closed **
missing all things unseen, greater and small.
Look at me
tell me what you see
am I everything
you have ever dreamed, wanted and desired
do i give your musings wings to fly
blindly all hopes cast to winds:
figment of imagination
a shadow sliding beneath
gunmetal sky
ladened on...
more times than needed
15-20 times per minute lasting .4 seconds, 1200 times per hour, 28,800 times a day
10% of waking hours adding up to five years of our lives roaming with our eyes closed **
missing all things unseen, greater and small.
Look at me
tell me what you see
am I everything
you have ever dreamed, wanted and desired
do i give your musings wings to fly
blindly all hopes cast to winds:
figment of imagination
a shadow sliding beneath
gunmetal sky
ladened on...
88 reads
10 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
31st Aug 2017 3:28am
31st Aug 2017 3:28am
*** Senryu
i swim to the light
in deep end of the ocean
floating solitude
rhythmic shallow breaths
fold in useless bones and flesh
origam-a-skin
god of icy moon
feed me spoonful of dirt
city of angels
Entered in Loneliness comp.
in deep end of the ocean
floating solitude
rhythmic shallow breaths
fold in useless bones and flesh
origam-a-skin
god of icy moon
feed me spoonful of dirt
city of angels
Entered in Loneliness comp.
88 reads
10 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
19th Jul 2017 5:13pm
19th Jul 2017 5:13pm
Geography Of Lifelines
When does being enough occur?
Collapse of all things meaning-full
following ghostly track.
To do it differently, consistently
gripping unto the next thing to save the present
to be a woman who never knew anything
but pleasures of being used, usefully
inventing so much, building haphazardly.
Isn't life about revisions and perversions
knocking all possibilities?
Three million tries can't be wrong
tied at every stomachache like stepping stone
while the universe gushes from my pores. ...
Collapse of all things meaning-full
following ghostly track.
To do it differently, consistently
gripping unto the next thing to save the present
to be a woman who never knew anything
but pleasures of being used, usefully
inventing so much, building haphazardly.
Isn't life about revisions and perversions
knocking all possibilities?
Three million tries can't be wrong
tied at every stomachache like stepping stone
while the universe gushes from my pores. ...
213 reads
36 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
18th Jul 2017 5:46am
18th Jul 2017 5:46am
Californication
The Valley heat was unbearable
eradicated sunshine
mercilessly manacled the moments slipping
into late afternoon
ghosting life from nature, cement and concrete.
The road curved by the hills offering some cool breeze
skyview of the city
on one side
on the way to Old Town Pasadena
We walked aimlessly absorbing old and new
crushing memories beneath our feet
to rustle of palm trees
there was nothing but stillness
floating
like a last lingering breath...
eradicated sunshine
mercilessly manacled the moments slipping
into late afternoon
ghosting life from nature, cement and concrete.
The road curved by the hills offering some cool breeze
skyview of the city
on one side
on the way to Old Town Pasadena
We walked aimlessly absorbing old and new
crushing memories beneath our feet
to rustle of palm trees
there was nothing but stillness
floating
like a last lingering breath...
214 reads
43 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
15th Jul 2017 4:15am
15th Jul 2017 4:15am
The Art of Mante’ (The long lost cousin of Tortellini)
There are oodles of noodles in every culture with flavors and textures as unique as our skin and fingerprints with all shapes and sizes but the only one that warms my heart and soul is Mante’.
I remember sitting in my grandmother’s small kitchen surrounded by my aunts and my mother watching my Nana knead the dough for which seemed like hours ’til it was supple, soft and smooth. She would smack the dough on the floured board few times with her trembling hands and then place the sign of the cross murmuring something with her eyes closed, covering it with a cotton dishcloth to rest....
I remember sitting in my grandmother’s small kitchen surrounded by my aunts and my mother watching my Nana knead the dough for which seemed like hours ’til it was supple, soft and smooth. She would smack the dough on the floured board few times with her trembling hands and then place the sign of the cross murmuring something with her eyes closed, covering it with a cotton dishcloth to rest....
116 reads
30 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
24th Jun 2017 8:25am
24th Jun 2017 8:25am
Patterns
Reversible Stitch—there is some kind of beautiful in traditions and patterns mimicking time and space; the placidity of tranquility stepping forward blindly relinquishing fears and ties governed solely by senses. In the shadow of the fig tree I learned to whisper softly and the art of pouring tea; knees bent slightly barely revealing the blossoming curves, blushing tint unraveling the soft skein.
A drop of nectar from ripened figs drips on my braided midnight hair, missing a loop— Back Stitch—
I hear him call my name stamping it into the thick dishrag night sky, twisting the air...
A drop of nectar from ripened figs drips on my braided midnight hair, missing a loop— Back Stitch—
I hear him call my name stamping it into the thick dishrag night sky, twisting the air...
257 reads
23 Comments
Poetry by Vee (Rina)