Thursday, 29 September 2011

Closing my eyes

i stood, garbed red
radiant long gown   
bellowing the wind

holding rose bouquet
soft, smooth, delicate in
my calloused hands

gust of cool wind
reminded me
ticking clock, steps

uncertainty in belly,
i threw rose petals,
watching as they floated   
aimlessly on dusty ground  

closing eyes,
i strained to catch      
each pulsing beat
my bosom

Author's Note:  Posted for D'Verse Poets Pub - Meeting the Bar

Meeting the Bar: Critique and Craft – hosted by Emmett Wheatfall - prompt is about writing poetry.  

Poets United:   Thursday Think Tank : Prompt is Red   For me, color means excitement and anticipation. 

Flash Fiction Friday -Tell a Story in 55 words - for G-Man.

Tuesday, 27 September 2011

Dark love

the bed linen soaked your dark passion
as your hands gripped my pale cheeks
kissing my lips until I was bruised pink
crushed in the death grip of your arms
i felt no tenderness nor waning of your lust
you wanted to scourge my body into hades 

all the flowers from my hair fell, scattered
in the floor, cold and metallic, unlike the soft
garden of my home, now so very far away
your long limbs pressed close, eyes glazing
not even the shadows of the night can hide
your fierce ardor, unapologetic and raw    
my maidenly robe hanged, ripped, crumpled,
by doorway between earth and hell
I could not tell the difference, forgetting as
I came alive, writhing under your soft mouth
warm, fervent hands kneading my bare skin

my lips sighed, moaned, drowning out
mother’s pleas and cries in the wind
all over the world, her anguish echoed
tears killing the lush meadows, soil
wasteland, barren and empty like her heart

forget, I wanted to, my motherland
as your lips devoured my cup, filling  

every inch of my pure white flesh  
in throes of black spell, i felt alive
your queen, replete with your fruits    

offering pomegranate seeds for my rest
a taste of heaven you said, and I took it 
slowly licking reddish pulp from your fingers 
coal eyes glowed with pride as you gazed  
at velvet purple ribbon around my neck  

Author's Note:   The Gooseberry Garden: POETRY PICNIC WK 6 : Stories from Mythology, Culture and of life.   An interpretation on the myth of Persephone, when the King of Hades kidnapped and brought her to the underworld. Her mother,  Demeter caused a terrible drought that forced Zeus to bring Persephone back, but she was obliged to spend half of the year in the underworld.  

Updated:   This poem was selected as Poem of the Week by Gooseberry Garden.  Thank you ~

And D'verse Poets Pub - OpenLinkNight. Doors open every Tuesday at 3pm EST.  See you there.

picture credit:

Saturday, 24 September 2011

Dance move

come on baby,
i like this move
swing your hips
round and round

slow, fast, slow, fast
i like to dance
tease you with my moves
twisting and turning
turning and twisting
until we got the rhythm

up, down, up, down
hands and feet grooving
swaying to the drum beat
grooving and swaying 
shaking my insides out          

come on baby,
i like this move
swing your hips
round and round

let's twist again ~ 

Posted for D'Verse Poets Pub- Poetics hosted by Joy Ann Jones.  Prompt is repetition - My (weekend) mind took me to this fun dance move from the old days.  

and Imaginary Garden with Real Toads- Prompt is Twist.   Video link - thanks to Laurie.   

Thursday, 22 September 2011

Slipping away

she waited for him
whisk her
magnificent castle

one day,
long awaited knock at door
shoe in hand

she tried it but it didn't fit her

regretfully, he said
she wasn't  “it”

she closed door

opening hope chest,

unwrapped matching shoe 
slim, fragile glass

reflecting woman,
wider in girth, dark with soot

outside, rain poured     

Author's Note:   Flash Fiction Friday - Tell a story in 55 words - G-Man.

Poet's United:   Thursday Think Tank:   RainWhen I think of rain, it connotes sad and/or reflective moments for me.  

Poetry Jam - a twist in a fairy tale of someone with a glass slipper.  What if?

Picture credit:

Tuesday, 20 September 2011


draw the curtains close
as I unpin my long hair
brushing opened shirt   


light feather touches
rolling, unrolling my hips
air heavy, smoky


silent communion 
lips and hips in rhythmic beat
piercing paper walls


resting gentle lips
bare devotion in your arms
making my heart jump


quiet end of night
serenity curled my lap 
sleeping days on end 

Poetry form:  Senryu (3 lines, 17 syllables in 5/7/5 format).   In writing this form, I strive to provide a contrast of image between the first line and third line.   As part of Haiku Heights Challenge:  Prompt # 78 is Feather.  My other haiku (nature themes) poems are here.  

Also posted for D'Verse Poets Pub - OpenLinkNight hosted by the Brian Miller.  Doors open Tuesday (every Tuesday at 3pm EST.)  

Update:   This was featured in Poetic License Feb 2012.


picture credit:  houseoferotica.tumblr

Saturday, 17 September 2011

Crimson red

I counted the stops
until the train station sign
matches scribbled notes on

papers folded, rolled
corners in my brown jacket
bag fidgeting in long ride

as i hear slow chugging sounds
i paint my lips crimson red
anticipation making me sweat
limbs trembling

not missing a step, 
I imagine flying straight 
into your arms

no, I won't miss this stop ~

you have waited 
a long time for me 
to come home

Author's Note:   There are certain areas in my life that are about to change.. and I am excited about it.   Have been planning it for the longest time.

Posted for D'Verse Poets Pub - Poetics - Train, hosted by Claudia.

picture credit:   Thanks Kirsti Marie

In your arms

I want to forget
time, place

only now
sandalwood scent 

silky touch on my back
soft lips trailing nape  

pouring white wine
tasting cup of honey
i fall apart  


in your arms

Reposted for Poets United:   The Thursday Think Tank - I am linking up an older piece as I am currently on the road, back to Canada.   For this prompt, I took the sentimental albeit sensual route.  The hunger of the world is a real concern for me, but given my present state, it is too big a topic to tackle and write given my time constraints.   Happy day ~     

picture credit:

Thursday, 15 September 2011

Under the glass

I wipe
red lipstick stain on
brim of white coffee cup

long dark hair, unbraided
not a strand uncurled

I whisper   
words lest secrets echo
beyond walls of silvery glass

familiar reflection yet
a stranger in the mirror  

imperfections under blush of powder
suntan glossing over deep emotions

I breathe    
under your skin, 
warm dulcet voice calling your name 

Do you see me ?

Posted for Poet United:  The Thursday Think Tank #66 - Glass Houses.    My own interpretation of glass houses.   My FFF 55 post is here.

Also offered for D'Verse Poets Pub:  Meeting the Bar: Critique and Craft.  

picture credit: 

Tuesday, 13 September 2011

Woman in black

black mourning dress drapes
slim frame like gossamer mantilla 
failing to hide sparkle in brown eyes 
spring in step walking along the road

carrying small bag, she smiles rummaging
contents – lipstick case, wallet, keys, camera
and map – always the map of city. 
finding it, unfolds it slowly like precious

love letter, perusing every inch, line,  
bumps, veins, grooves, towers, walls
smoothing and checking hours, schedules
no detail escapes her warm inquisitive fingers   

burdened with caring for an ailing
spouse, she now stumps city’s streets
like young girl rediscovering a lover
wanting to get lost in his warm belly, deep tunnels
so vibrant and intriguing, making her forget

white walls with disinfectant smell   
memories of spouse’s death wish, 20 years long
when struck with paralysis, he became half a man  
never letting her forget he was once that man.

she now fidgets with gold band in ring finger
just 4 more months until I can wear bright
summer clothes, she says.  Pin sunflowers
straw hat, butterfly brooch in silky dress.

waving the map, I watch her board red bus   
window seat, she presses against murky glass   
breasts heaving against engine's pulse
she breathes in sweat, dirt from lover’s arms,  
her ardor greater each passing day.  

Author's Note:    Posted for D'Verse Poets Pub - OpenLinkNight.    Doors open Tuesday (every Tuesday) at 3pm EST.  See you there~ 

Real life experiences fascinate me so I took a widow's story and gave it my own interpretation.  It is customary for some cultures to wear mourning clothes (of either black or white) for one year.

Sunday, 11 September 2011

In Memoriam

the phone calls that never came
letters and notebooks unopened
toys stacked neatly in boxes

winds blew strongly that day
leaves and flowers wilted on ground
from fires of hate or fervent faith 
i still don't know until now

what i remember still are your laughing eyes
tender touch of hands on my shoulders
childish stories that made me smile

fallen from the tree of life
i light a candle today in memory
of love and gratitude

Posted for D'Verse Poets Pub - Poetics - In Memoriam,  hosted by Mark Kerstetter.   I am not American but on this fateful day, Sept. 11, my heart goes out to all those who died.

Shared with One Single Impression - Notebook and Poets United.

Picture credit:  

Thursday, 8 September 2011

White windows

some days
i feel blue
wishing for earth
to stop spinning
play with fallen
brown, yellow leaves
on moist ground

some days
i feel mellow
counting apples
i plucked from trees   
crunchy and tangy
perfect for apple pies

days tucked at edges
nights unfurling arms   
before moon rises,
windows will be encased
white nostalgic frames  

Over the long holiday weekend, we went apple picking up North of our city, and enjoyed grilled sweet corn and meat.  Our friend baked us a delicious apple pie which we consumed right away.  The weather was  overcast with cool air;  a sure sign of autumn's arrival.      And yes, that is how I feel about the autumn season.

picture credit:

Wednesday, 7 September 2011

All of Me

some nights

i just want 

to watch her

slow and sensuous waltz

breathing in

my warm musky scent

some nights 

i just want to 

let myself go

inhibitions, control, fears


let her have

all of me

Notes:  Some nights, I just want to write for myself.   No form, no inhibitions.

picture credit:  houseoferotica.tumblr

Monday, 5 September 2011

Sweet kisses

rainy afternoon
he holds her hands ardently
sun smiling his face


he asks her shyly
silver ring gleaming his hand
boldly she answers

warm soft kisses
enveloping, engulfing
cool stiff composure


salt on his lips  
toes curl in delight with kisses      
sweeter than custard

Author's Note:   Written for Haiku Heights - Prompt # 64 ~ Kiss.  This is part of the on-going month long haiku challenge at Haiku Heights.  

Also shared with D'Verse Poets Pub (doors open every Tuesday at 3 pm EST).   Link your poem (any form) and enjoy warm company.

In writing haiku poems (3 lines, 17 syllables) I strive to provide a contrast of images between the first line and the third line.  

Picture credit:

Saturday, 3 September 2011

That woman

she is full of allure 
sultry black eyes
dark teasing lips

brimming of theatrics
a day with her
drama and angst 

unsatisfied with
my silent affections, 
tossed gift of pearls
out into street

I play the sax
cool tunes to woo  
but no, she wants my
bold wordy intentions

how do i begin
tell her she got me at
palm of her hand

now she is gone
chasing madly after 
hobo down the street 

Author's Note:   This post is for D'verse Poets Pub:   Poetics.  Prompt is Silent Movies  of Charlie Chaplin (clip from A Woman in Paris)

Also shared with Poetry Jam.  Hosted by Evelyn - prompt is Humor in Poems.

picture credit:   from here


unfold me gently
with deep lingering kisses   
searing my skin pink 

unwrap me slowly
peeling each tissue to gaze
gem in jewelled folds

Poetry form:   Haiku (3 lines; 17 syllables)

For Haiku Heights Challenge # 62:   My choice for the prompt is slowly.   

picture credit:

Thursday, 1 September 2011

Breath of Summer

House is quiet
Standing still, ghostly pale
Like no one lives there

Bed is tidy
Pillows, cushions stiffed-neck
No one ruffling it today

Floor is clean
Polished like a mirror
Looking at itself

Suddenly, luggage heaving
Doors opening wide
Running feet, gleeful sounds

Windows flinging sideways
Bright sunflowers in pockets
Last breath of summer

Author's Note:   Flash Fiction Friday - Tell a story in 55 words.  G-man, here's one! 

I can feel the cool air nipping, don't you?  
My pre-teen daughter arrived yesterday after spending the month with her cousins in Vancouver for vacation.  Her school starts next week, Tuesday after our long weekend.  She is like a breeze of summer with her endless chatter. ;-)