Thursday, 23 October 2014


Let me count the ways:

The day is a splendor in glass
Weaving my brokenness to light

My memories, sepia & rust-veined
Ignite with colour & shades of robust wine

Though the pinery oaks are shedding fast
My eyes are glad of piles of sweet apples

Of plums, pumpkins, & pears in baskets
The sun burns, soft as milkweed

I tally fallen maple leaves on ground:
Orange brown, yellow corn, russet wood

As I lay my head on bed of wet leaves
Your eyes are crinkling of sky

I hear murmurings of starlings  
I taste the pulp of orange tamarind fruit,

Shaved ice on purple yam & custard-
Bread, newly baked, is honey on my tongue

Your kisses, hard of passion
Swirls my skin to roaring sea tide 

Where but here
Leaves flame until the last dying breath

You are the beekeeper,
Keeping my heart a seed

In this garden of nettle sage,
blue cornflower & lavender

You are the reason I stay

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - List Poem - Hosted by Tony M ~

Tuesday, 14 October 2014

Milk & Honey

Music weaves in our

Once when we were

Running around city

Perfume of flowers on our

We rock town with milk &

Jazz & blues & reggae

Climbing faster, we shake 
                                       & sway

Now the sky is a mellowed

Watching every moment

to ripeness.   Time is a

guitar strings on slow

keyboards & horns bubble

You, who still plucks

from air & kisses me wild at

Get lost in rhythm, a

Pulsing, electric waves 

Of soul & instrument, while

Marvel how we love each

The beat goes on, on &

Photography by :  Benoit Courti

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Hosted by Anthony D ~
I'm listening to some reggae roots music ~  The title is from one of the songs ~

Sunday, 12 October 2014

A distance divides us

What the blood moon stirs, contains you  
a pearl oyster against the lilac clouds

What the sky silvers, turns the past
to water of memories and foam

What the maple trees bare, skins the
night to fragments, fragile by time

The cold wind sands, awakening
me, frozen in our memories

I watch dawn unfold, its fingers threading
a spider web, marbled in infinite blue

To the deepest of the wells
I draw you, scent of shadows & pines

Your image smiles in its pure circle*
But what of your face as I reach to touch you?

It wavers, growing old, belonging 
to another*

Title and line inspired by E. Montale's poem, The Well

(Cigola la carrucola del pozzo)

The pulley of the well-shaft creaks,

water rises to the light and dissolves you.
A memory trembles in the refilled pail,
an image smiles in its pure circle.
Touch your face to evanescent lips:
the past wavers, grows old,
belongs to another…
Ah, how the wheel groans
already, returns you to the dark depths,
vision, a distance divides us. 

Frozen in Water
Photography:   Brooke Shaden

Posted for Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - We are getting inspiration from by 
E. Montale's work and Poets United - Thanks for the visit ~