Halloween treat

above skeletal and orange spooks

adorning blackened ceilings,

you and I cozy up

in big leather armchair

you, dashing in hunter's garb

me, sultry in vampire sheath

we listen to Frankenstein serenading

as mermaids echo his baritone voice

under cobwebbed chandelier, 
werewolves perform their magic tricks,   
ghouls dance as a hairy beast plays 

grand piano in pumpkin-fest ballroom


this is the eve of all hallows day, and
everything extraordinary is norm

lines blur as our worlds collide        

the unexpected and deadly, a treat

like your kisses, warm on my neck  
scorching my 200-year old body 

Posted for The Gooseberry Garden:   The Halloween Special  
and Imaginary Garden for Real Toads:   Open Link Night

Happy Halloween ~

Thank you for the award~ Thursday Poets Rally 

I nominate Adura's Eyes for the next award.

picture credit:  discretelycharming.tumblr 

Spill

i heard your sharp

gasps

saw your eyes misty,

soft lips quivering,

rush

spill

racing heart against mine  

tell me what is 

on your mind ?

you are stepping

on my foot.

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Poetics hosted by Claudia.  Prompt is call and response.  

This is based on an actual conversation.... reality check, okay.       

and Sunday 160 - write a post in exactly 160 characters.   
Shared with Poets United- The Poetry Pantry.

Picture credit:   http://sweetsurrender68.tumblr.com/post/8973497324

Under the block

everywhere
i search for whiff
of your warm breath,
speck of dust from
cold pale skin,
just any part of you
even your shadow
behind grey roof

during grandpa’s funeral, 

grandma roasted a fat pig,

chickens for the guests

amidst murmured words,

i heard yelps by  

animals in back kitchen.

heart attack-

i was told.

Author's Note: Posted for Poetry United:   Writer's Block  - the first part of the poem.

And D'Verse Poets Pub- Meeting the Bar: Critique and Craft - Conflation.  Hosted by emmett wheatfall.

Write a poem that is constructed using conflation. This means the poem must possess at least two different, wholly unrelated themes package together.

To challenge you further, the two or more thematic aspects of the poem must be revealing about yourself. 

Also for Flash Fiction 55.   G-man, joining you today.   

picture credit:  Adam Martinakis (Greece), here

Unrehearsed

beside brick red fireplace
we click cold beer bottles 
banal, polite conversations
of weather and cellphones

swirling around rented plush suite
cramped with eager beaver smiles 
braving niceties, we snort noises,
all considered politically correct responses

cocktails before dinner, warming up spiels,
karaoke bars, team sessions, until
near the program's end, we sneakily
slip away, with a red bottle of wine 

laughing until we stop at my doorstep, 
lamplight fusing our shadows
you take my key and gently nudge
me inside, without a word

we hang up our black tailored coats
unrehearsed, unscripted, we embrace
awkwardly,  fumbling, entwining     
in imperfect symphony  

 

Author's Night:  I attended a company conference last week as part of my induction to my new job.   It was interesting to meet my new team, but my social skills can only take so much pleasantries.  The activity though provided great inputs to my writing. .. a part of my life that is unchanging still.          

Posted for D'Verse Poets Pub - OpenlinkNight.   Doors open every Tuesday at 3pm EST.

picture credit:  here

Until now

i walk along in my faded sweatpants 

slender trees along the river framing 

clear water rushing downstream

beside the long abandoned farm mill

a blanket of solitude, thick and blue

wrapped my cold shoulders this morning

i thought i heard your footsteps

follow my trail towards the thick forest

glades we love to get lost and camped, 

just the two of us, don't you remember?

but no, it was just the hoot of birds

and swish tail of the frightened deer

your footprints were long covered

by mulch of shrivelled maple leaves, 

fallen apples pecked by black crows,  

mud of travellers searching for solace,

answers among the whispering winds,

wild flowers, black bats kneeling in prayer  

still, i take these early morning walks

autumn has arrived, but until now,  

i don't understand why you left 

without saying 

goodbye 

Posted for The Gooseberry Garden:   Poetry Picnic Week 10: Nature, Forest, Rivers, and Mountains

Shared with Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - OpenLinkNight Monday


picture credit:   http://zombiebrainfortea.tumblr.com/

The other family

pale faced angel, i smile 

innocent in my charm and guile  

medium built among the four sons

my brown eyes and tilt of nose

hints at the same side of the river,

spilled by the lust driven man

Dad or old man, as all the children

call him affectionately, without disdain

for his humble work of hands, unpretentious

affections for women; he welcomes young girl  

his daughter, me

given away by my mother, simple maid, 

too ashamed of her deeds or sins of flesh

the young boys peer at my thin shoulders  

almost malnourished, they hold their tongue

in great respect to their mother, forgiving, 

brave of heart, still loving her wayward husband

the eldest son offers a candy to break the ice,  

i take it with a grateful nod, my small hands

eagerly unwrapping the simple treat, as if

discovering the meaning of home and family

lineage i discover today, arriving with my 

beaten up bag and old pair of shoes, my only pair

hunger pains ebb with thoughts of:  roof

over my head, and a man called "Dad" to care for me   

shyly, i bow my head in deference to my "new" family

as i am told that i now carry the family name

politely, i nod as conversations continue

with or without my murmurs; i try not to stand out  

with my coarse clothes and blistered hands,

simple words from years lived in shadowy guilt   

later, alone in my small room, i unhook

locket with a picture of my birth mother

though officially, she is "dead" 

her reckless passion flows in my veins   

i don't belong here. 

not today.   

ever.   

Posted for D'Verse Poets Pub - The Other.    Imagine that person who is other than you, and think about how you might construct a dramatic monologue in poetry. Hosted by Mark Kerstetter.   For this prompt, I thought of writing about meeting "the other side of the family" - she is my unofficial half-aunt, if there is such a term.    

Happy to be linking up today.

Soundless

tears fall

soundless sorrow

boundless despair bearing

wrinkled face; on firm arms of son,

he cries

pleading

his heart away

if only she breathes free; 

he couldn't stand thought of being 

alone

~0~0~0~

she prayed 

soundless words, pleas

forgiveness for her, him

face of devotion, she submits

God's will  

  

Poetry form:   Cinquain - 5 lines of 2,4,6,8,2 syllables.  
Posted for Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Open Link Monday.  Do drop by for great readings.    
Shared with D'verse Poets Pub - OpenLinkNight.  Please drop by Tuesday at 3 pm EST for great company.

This post came from my visiting my family last week.  The first part is seeing my dad, a proud man, crying upon learning of my mom's grave condition.   The second part is witnessing my mom, praying before her procedure.  She is better now though she is still in the hospital.    

picture credit:   http://vi.sualize.us/beuchampniven/sadness/?sort=title_asc

The call

pale ghost  

laughter fled, tears

fell edges soiled laundry,

unopened beer cans, as call came:  

come home  

Posted for:   Imaginary Garden with Real Toads :  Use the form cinquain:   5 lines of 2, 4, 6, 8 and 2 syllables.  An interesting form to use.


Poetry Jam:   Your Assignment:   Use words laugh, laundry, ghost, edges, beer


Picture credit:   http://silent-musings.tumblr.com/

Still beautiful

i set aside my green bag  

containing red rosary beads, 

spare change, plane ticket

unfolding white coarse sheets
i spread it across lumpy bed
too small for both of us


jagged mirrors on ceilings  
collage of past diversions,
or maybe transgressions 


we both ignore as we 
kiss gently at first trying to 
remember how it was, were

heated embrace, bodies fitting

as we rock to familiar rhythm, 

each vigorous thrust an imprint, 

amidst crowded narrow streets,
beggars, hustlers, mayhem traffic, 
uncollected garbage, polluted air  


warming satiny skin as your tongue 
probes, taste my pink buds,  until
gripping arms, i cry out  ...   


home  


bitter sweet tamarind, red yellow papaya,
palm trees decorating brown walls
dividing, segregating rooms; we unstick


labels stitched on our foreheads, 
revelling in our bodies pulsating, still
an unbroken refrain despite oceans apart,  

then with gentle warm fingers
you cup my pale face, saying 


i am still beautiful


tracing lines under your tired eyes,
i kiss your rough, blistered palms
whispering softly, 




no, you are ....

Posted for D'Verse Poets Pub - Poetics.   The prompt is to write about a Taboo Subject - How to be Fearless and Nothing Else.    This post came from visiting my family in another part of the world. I spent close to two weeks there, happy and sad times.  Though I am presently living in Canada,  it saddens me to see the country mired in greed, bitter politics, and poverty, despite the "progress".  Nevertheless, it is my motherland, a beautiful place for me.         


Shared with Poets United:   The Poetry Pantry            

Picture credit:  http://cristania.tumblr.com/post/11463023537

Tree

i walk up the sloping hill

summer heat prickling pale skin

fallen frangipani petals on ground

mango tree stood at the crest 

same spot for last five decades

now bare to the bones, drooping

grimacing at each labored breath

dark lines under arms, draping

tubes of oxygen, unwanted leis 

small brown roots, shrubs peek 

under long shadows, tender shoots

vibrant green, facing the sun

nearby a narrow river flows

red stone lantern gazes serenely 

gray stepping stones, rock garden

bonsai, mosses hush in eye of storm

boulders of white pebbles stack

neatly like rosary beads in my hand

Author's Note:   I traveled last week to visit my ailing parents, specially my mom.  Yesterday after her surgery, she is now recovering, and hopefully out of the woods.
Hope to visit you soon~

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub-OpenLinkNight and Imaginary Garden with Real Toads.
The Gooseberry Garden: Poetry Picnic Week 8: Friends, Relationships and Everyone around

Picture credit:  http://silent-musings.tumblr.com/

Shattered

 

unblinking

still 

gray walls  

tremble

windows  

shatter

into 

thousand 

fragments 

spiraling

falling

into 

dark 

              

bottomless

well

of tears

Posted for The Gooseberry Garden:   Theme is Love and Loss. 

The scene is from classic story of Romeo and Juliet.

I have been traveling, back to my roots, for urgent (not so good) family matters.  I hope to visit you soon. Please note that my haiku/senryu poems for D'Verse Poets Pub- Form for all is here.

Picture credit:   http://shadesofkairos.wordpress.com/tag/romeo/ 

My face

i wipe Estee Lauder mirror 
have to fix myself first 
before we meet and talk    


rearranging my features
i draw Maybelline brown pencil to  
highlight wayward eyebrows, a definition 
then, splashing Revlon light hues around
make my eyes larger, almost mysterious  
powdering nose so it doesn't shine 
pinching cheeks to give it a sunny glow 
smudging pale lips to make it shimmer 


Mary Kay covers my distinct mole at side 
Lancome nude blush buries all traces that 
makes me stand out in a crowd, no that won't do 
i need to blend in so i clip my mouth 
into a straight clothesline, mute my grief 
no smiling or even a grin showing as it will
give me lines and make my eyes small


have to look natural looking   
exude beautiful CoverGirl
like the ghost of a girl of 
my Vogue magazine
well now, i am ready 


i look like




me...  

Posted for D'Verse Poets Pub - Poetics  hosted by Victoria Ceretto-Slotto.   Prompt is Pop Culture:  Chose a cultural phenomenon, a product, an icon/idol or mass medium as the subject of your poem.  To be honest,  I had a difficult time connecting to the prompt as my mind is pre-occupied with family matters.  Anyway, I thought I would take a shot at the "face" of pop culture which for me is like a walking advertisement - that is make-up of course.  My apologies to my male readers for the girlie talk and promo words  ;-)   In real life, I hardly wear make-up though.

Poetry Jam - hosted by Margaret.  I think we are never happy or content with our face.  


Happy Sunday ~  


picture credit:   here