Saturday, 31 March 2012

The nightmare

you are running after me
in a never ending circle

a snake, or bear, sometimes shapeless,
faceless but always looming black  

timpani drums shake
as you reach for my ankles

then my legs, my arms
enfolding in quicksand tide 

helpless, you drool mud over me,
placing seeds of mustard on my tongue

holding me close against coarse cheek,
sinking deep in the muck, i hear your fears  

                     prickling against my breasts,
                     running down my thighs 

the madness of which you can't speak
the dark thoughts of which you can't escape 

becoming  m i n e  

knotting my fingers in a prayer, gibberish words flowing
i wallow in my sweat, impaled by my sins, 

while tangled in white sheets,   
you sleep, 
                 breathing easily for the first time 

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub:   Nightmare Verse hosted by Stu McPherson 
Shared with Poets United.

picture credit:  here  

Thursday, 29 March 2012

A broken heart

unfulfilled promises
lies and empty words
a broken heart

it happens everyday
they say

but, how do you move on ? 

how do you mend
a broken heart?

you can't

you live with it

scars, freckles, sorrow, bitterness, regrets

and write songs,
and pen poems,
painting, sculpting,  

until you feel the rain falling on your cheeks

                                               Al Green- How Can You Mend A Broken Heart 

Posted for:    Poets United:   Thursday Think Tank:   Music
and Flash Fiction Friday:   Tell a story in 55 words - for the G-man

Lyrics:   here
Picture credit:   here

Monday, 26 March 2012

The house

                                                                                     Kat Mortensen©2012 

he says he will build a house facing the morning sun, 
wide clear windows framing the fields of yellow 

he will shade the high ceiling in blue cloudless sky,      
color the rooms with summer and frangipani petals   

plant mango trees and vegetables at the back yard,
so I can hear the squirrels racing around the bend   

as we talk, he caresses his prized rooster’s plumage,
crooning words of devotion I half listen to as I rush

dressing up to go to work, not wanting to miss my
subway and bus tram, squeezed like sardines in a can

which I eat when I ran out of dollars to send to him, 
and rest of my family, all perched upon my back as I

scrape my knees, cleaning floors and washrooms 
in the city of lights and marble, sweeping dust

covering the letters I read each week, all asking me for
dollars dotted with promises not to wager anymore, still   

I call every Sunday to tell them of the butterflies and  
grasshoppers I catch, and tulips I see on my way to work    

everyday for the last 10 years, and my now grown up daughter
gets excited of my "adventures" in another country, half a world away     

I fold my cheque in the mail envelope and walk back to small rented room,  
Like a bloodied cock fighter that I am,

dreaming to go home
to the house he said he will build for me 

Process notes:   I originally had this idea when I wrote it for Flash Fiction 55 for the G-man - How far to walk.   I thought of expanding the story based on a migrant worker's life.

Posted for Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Photograpy by Kat Mortesan
and D'verse Poets Pub:   OpenLinkNight - every Tuesday at 3pm EST 

Sunday, 25 March 2012

Simply beautiful

He was always telling her she is beautiful.

She sighs and wishes she can go out and feel the sun on her skin. 
She feels  like a cocooned ball, swallowed white in self pity and depression.   
One day, she takes out his unopened birthday gift:   a brush, oils of paint and canvas.  
She reads his note once more:   

You are beautiful.    

She looks at canvas with sadness and begins painting.  
First, with anger and sorrow, then with acceptance and hope.   
Her canvas bursts with tears and passion in all the colours of life.     
When the doctors came to take off the bandages, she didn't feel fear nor
apprehension.    She touches the scars from the car accident, her memories 
of that night stinging her eyes.      

Holding the mirror to see her face at last, she sees what he has been saying all the time.

After all, his heart beats in her core.    

                                                                                   image: Duane Michals 

Author's Note:   Posted for The Mag 110 - I am trying my hand in micro fiction writing and have altered the picture a bit.   Shared with Poets United.

Thanks for the visit.     

Thursday, 22 March 2012

Spring song

I am a grizzled tree


Your lips petal my blue daffodils 
Your verses salt my sky 


Spring me the forest rain
Spring me the summer sun      
In your tender hands,

I am a berry seed, 
Budding at the tip of your tongue  

We listen to Vivaldi's concerto
Our spring song still so beautiful  

Posted for:    Imaginary Garden with Real Toads  :   Kenia's Wednesday Challenge- inspired by Brazilian writerManoel de Barros
and Flash Fiction Friday - My post in exactly 55 words- For the G-Man ~  
Thanks for the visit.

Monday, 19 March 2012

Field of green

by Shanyn Silinski 

you are my field of green
as i sit on my old rusty truck
cradling my coffee cup as
yellow sun rises slowly over the hill 

i hear your song as the wind
lifts my hair, brushing it with wheat and corn 
leaves in the burrow, frazzled brown,  
peer at my weathered cowboy boots     

silk and tassel wave in the breeze,
harvest crop, like warm fresh bread, 
fills my nostrils and tingles pale cheeks    

as i drive back to the city lanes,  
your pungent soil clings to my knees, 
your lush blades feather my face,
your dew moistening my dry lips

in my belly,  your seeds splay and swell,
bursting of spring, i feel abundance,
a field of green, framing the prairie sky*     

Posted for Imaginary Garden with Real Toads :   Photography by Shanyn Silinski * who blogs at Sunflower Shan and Mystic Mom.
and D'verse Poets Pub - OpenLinkNight - every Tuesday, starting at 3 pm EST. 

My one year blog anniversary is coming up in less than a month. If you have any writing requests (inspired by a song or picture) for me, please feel free to comment in my posts, and I will try my best to write it.   Thank you for your support and encouragement.  

Saturday, 17 March 2012

Once upon a time

once upon a time
a prince wanted to marry
the poorest girl, yet at the same time, the richest
he found her living at edge of the forest
with her spindle, shuttle and needle

he saw that she can spin straw into gold,
and find the needle pea under mattresses.

so he asked if he can kiss her,
lead her to ride his horse and gallop away towards his castle. 
she told him to 
get off his horse,
cut down some wood for the fire

and live with her amidst the sky and trees.

they live happily ever after.


you gave me a kiss 
when i was sleeping.
did you really kiss me because
i was the fairest one?
or because i was 

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub:   Poetics:  Once Upon a Time hosted by Claudia S.   
Happy St. Patrick's Day to those who celebrate it.  Thanks for the visit.  

Fairy tale story here
picture credit:   here

Wednesday, 14 March 2012

Waiting for spring

pink cherry blossoms
falling on black winter boots
an early guest, spring 
arrives on rice paper, leaves 
of bamboo hollowed in green

lips red as ripe plums
sing winter blues and pale sky        
i strum my guitar
as sunlight plays with my hair  
unbound, like my kimono     


white is my window 
facing west at break of dawn
you close door gently 
but I hear the tires screeching 
empty road, scraping my skin 

Posted for Imaginary Garden with Real Toads:   Tanka Form - 5 lines in 5-7-5-7-7 syllabic count and a clear division or turning point between the upper phrase and lower phrase. Try to reach for yugen.   
and Poetry Jam:   So how do you feel

Photo credit:   here

Monday, 12 March 2012

A step

I take a step
feet touching shiny wooden floor
fire-lit room beckons my dance  
above lazy eyes of the moon 
I reach to fly, forgetting my wings  

I take a step
against the crevices of thin wall
my dress pin-pricked with blood stains
my hands ice trembling in white fear
I fold myself into a panel sheet  

I take a step
towards you
a seed of an idea, a possibility, a yearning
casting aside my compass and clothes,
I strike a match against wall, though unsure, 
I take another step  

Poetry form:  Triptych - a poem in three distinct but united parts.   Thanks to Kerry for this challenge.   

Posted for Imaginary Garden with Real Toads:   OpenLinkNight - every Monday
and D'verse Poets Pub:   OpenLinkNight - every Tuesday starting at 3pm EST

On another note, I received a special award, Queen of Haiku Challenge, for my Haiku Journey on Feb. 2012 for my other blog, Everyday Amazing.   There is another haiku challenge hosted by Leo of Haiku Heights for the month of April.  You are all invited to  write and share your haiku/senyru for this Poem-A-Day Month.   Thank you for all your support and encouragement of my writing.   

picture credit   :   here

Saturday, 10 March 2012

Another love song

Sing me another love song
Because I have forgotten
Your affection in a letter

The sun has been hiding
Behind snow covered hills
Do you recall spring nights

Your hands cupping my face
With tender persuasion
That’s what I like

Making love with no words
Just the sound of the rain falling
Just the hush of leaves swaying

And as you kiss me
with a gentle dedication, I’ll recall
the words of another love song

Love And Affection 1976

Posted for Imaginary Garden with Real Toads:  Music with Marian:  Love and Affection by Joan Armatrading 

Picture credit:   here

Thursday, 8 March 2012

How far to walk

gazing stoically,
eyes tired, hands wrinkled
from daily toil
she carries on slim shoulders

he grips phone like lifeline
Sunday’s conversation routine
about their daughter, his struggling
business, needs of her own family 

folding creased $20 dollar,
she slips into black sturdy boots
wondering how far she has to walk
before she can go home.

Posted for:   Poetry Jam - Internal and External Limits
and Flash Fiction Friday - Tell a story in 55 words.   For the G-man.     

Today, March 8,  is the 101st anniversary of International Women's Day. "It is a day to honour how women's stories are woven into the fabric of the world.  So let us mark this day by finding ways to ensure women and girls’ access to education, healthcare, jobs, and credit, and to protect their right to live free from violence."

picture credit:    Adde Adesokan

Monday, 5 March 2012

What I want to do with you

morning paints your eyes grey 
but I smell the wild sea on your hair

the sad wind is blowing away
blue winterdrops on my arms but
i love you 
and my happiness craves the 
honeycomb in your lips

the rain drenches my skirt
tinged with red plums and berries

your words caress my neck,
i want to sink into your folds
like water on parched paper      

the sun nudges my limbs apart,
i want to embrace the scent
of your solitary soul, thrust of passion
in the changing shadow and light

moths and birds flee with our cries, 
leaves quiver to the bee stings 

I want to do with you 
what spring does to the cherry tree.*

"My words rained over you, stroking you.
A long time I have loved the sunned mother-of-pearl of your body.
I go so far as to think that you own the universe.
I will bring you happy flowers from the mountains, bluebells,
dark hazels, and rustic baskets of kisses.
I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees."

-Line and Inspiration from Pablo Neruda's Everyday you play

Posted for Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - OpenLinkNight - Monday  - Offering a spring poem as requested
and D'verse Poets Pub -  OpenLinkNight - every Tuesday at 3pm EST.    

picture credit:

Sunday, 4 March 2012


No Song To Me In The Numb Hours ~ Kenia Cris

I ran out to the trees
They stood silent grey
In the waning light of dusk

Hiding my nakedness, I saw
A sign “reserved”  painted
On a shiny chair, so I took
My paper and pen, and wrote

Of bridges I have burnt  
Of lips I have kissed
Of boat cruises I want to take
Of ice-capped mountains I see  

It was not enough

To quiver the leaves
To soften dry bark
To mend tired limbs
To seed crushed roots

So I folded my words
Into a paper boat
And left it for the trees

To dream of the sky and sea.

Posted for Imaginary Garden with Real Toads:   The Sunday Challenge- Featuring Kenia Cris
Shared with Poets United

Picture credit:   Kenia Cris

Thursday, 1 March 2012


color of morning is white
and cold

freezing rain falls on her face unheeded
eyes closed,     

she hears crashing
waves of sea,  sun-drenched words 

leaping, reaching her core in 
unending refrain

she moves closer, marveling

the string, she cannot cut 
not even in death.

so she sleeps
bubble-wrapped in marble,  

waiting for his rebirth.

Posted for Poets United:   Think Tank:   Rebirth - I read some of the posts and thought I will take another route to the theme.        
And Flash Fiction Friday 55:   Tell a story in 55 words - For the G-Man.   Thanks for the visit.

"In 1987 I was asked by his Widow Christina to carve a figure called "Asleep" in Carrara marble as his gravestone. " 

ArtistPeter Schipperheyn, born Melbourne Australia 1955-  Title:  "Asleep"  carved 1987 Dimensions: 460 mm in height by 2020 mm in length by 800 mm in depth [life-size figure].  Medium:Carrara Statuario Marble. Present locationMt Macedon Cemetery, Mt Macedon. Victoria.

Story and view of the sculpture in another angle:   

picture source: