Sugar City

i remembered his dark   

laughing eyes as we raced under 

white shelled crusted Spanish windows    

nestled close in tropical

summer, we played hide and seek 

Plaza's ground all lazy afternoon 
whilst old folks snored, siesta (nap) time


colourful days, drums dancing   
we screamed chaos for every fiesta 
banners waving, MassKara Festival

dirty ice cream, sweet rice cakes, caramel custard

candied yams, fried bananas, sugar cane sticks
Dulce Gatas, mango tarts; all delighted our palate  

Cathedral's bells pealing at 6:00 pm
reminded us to tarry home
prayers, processions long   

one night, underneath the guava tree,

he held me in his skinny arms and 

kissed me tenderly.  i kissed him back,

not knowing what it really meant.  

i left the tiny city for bigger places

brighter dreams, but I couldn't forget 

his sugary taste in my mouth  

someday, i will go back 

kiss him with all the fervor,
sweet longing
in me.

Author's note:   Reposted for The Gooseberry Garden - Longing, Loss, and Failure.

This post is for D'Verse Poets Pub hosted by Claudia.    The prompt is going urban:    Today we want you to take us on a trip around the world, to the city where you lost your heart, were born, fell in love, spent the most beautiful or most ugly time in your life…no matter if it’s a small or a mega city.     

I wrote about the small city known for its sugar cane products, Bacolod City, Philippines. It is also known as the City of Smiles, and host of MassKara Festival (every October).  It has been years since we visited the city, but my tongue still remembers its sweet treats.  

  

Evening Bite

evening stroll
apples dangle
curving branches
no leaves nor twigs
conceal its
gleaming color

though shadowy dark,  
fresh faced, they 
sway, mocking
restraints
in tidy small boxes.
no sun

they burst ripe full
brushing tongue 
along my neck
whispering throaty 
promises

enticing me to
come closer

pluck me


do I take just
one small
bite? 

 

Author's Note:   This post is for  Poetry Jam, the theme is Evening and Flash Fiction Friday.   Tell a story in 55 words.  G-man, here is my post, exactly 55 words.

picture credit:  http://purplefairies.tumblr.com/post/4530392430/darkface-dark-apple-background-by-lilifilane

More than yesterday

I press rose petals on your lips today
How they bloom more than yesterday


I trace my tongue amidst deep trails  
You are sweeter than yesterday


My arms hold your peace as you sleep
More beautiful than yesterday


Rains and clouds may dot our sky  
Still I love you more than yesterday


Say you will stay until I am gray 
Heaven is here, brighter than yesterday 

Author's Note :  This post is for D'Verse - Form for All - Ghazal, hosted by Gay and John Alwyine-Mosley (AKA @bookdreamer)  We are to write at least 5 couplets; I have used yesterday as my ending rhyme word.     

Traditional Ghazal rules of form are very clear. The opening couplet is called amatla, which sets up the rhyme scheme (qaifa) and refrain (radif) by having it occur in both lines. Then this scheme occurs only in the second line of each succeeding couplet for at least five additional couplets and in practice as many as needed. To end the ghazal, the poet has a signature couplet, the (makhta)in which they mention their name or refer to themselves.  

Your feedback is appreciated.  Thanks ~

This moment

tight

hold me

like there is

no     tomorrow

breathe the moment sigh

  kiss  each   freckle   blushing   
slow dance under moonlit night

sing,  laugh even  for  no  reason

stir this  moment not,  it's all we have

     hold  each  drop of  us,  here  lingering       

capture whispered  breath i sigh as

you kiss  each blushing  freckle

   bliss comes like butterfly    

fleeing languid wings 

hold  me  tight  as

we slow dance  

moonlit   

night  

“Smile, breath and go slowly.” - Thich Naht Hanh, Vietnamese Zen Buddhist monk

Author's note:  This post follows the nonet form (9 lines; 9 syllables on the first line, 8 syllables on the second line.. until the last line is 1 syllable).    The first part is the reverse nonet form.  

This post is for the D'Verse Poets Pub, OpenLinkNight, hosted by Joe Hesch.   Doors open 3pm (every Tuesday) EST.   Bring your poem (any form) and share warm company.  

Her hands

i stare at her gnarled
hands, life etched on
each wrinkle, vein 


wipe tears
from child's eyes


soothe fears
& doubts of troubled lad


caress shyly
lover's fair face 


tie family strings
through sorrows, heartbreaks


crochet linens, sweaters 
spreading warmth and joy   


wield axe
demanding firmness


hold cup to toast
success, big & small steps 


bury an erring husband
loving him till the end 


offer peace, gladness
blessings overflowed simple nest


play with angels on her lap,
longing for eternal peace


now, clasped in prayer's cross
waits for death's dance 
finally

Author's Note:  This post is for Poetry Jam:  Songs for the Dead, hosted by Chris of Enchanted Oak.  The prompt is to write about death of a beloved, in my case, my grandmother who died years ago at a very ripe age of 93.   In her 60+ , she wanted to die already; not wanting to follow the footsteps of her mother, who also died in her 90+.   


During her lifetime, my grandmother made lovely things with her skilled hands.  As my wedding gift, she gave me a hand-made quilt for my bed.   Her crochet and embroidery pieces continue to remind us of her love.    

picture credit:   http://imathome.tumblr.com/post/8575258300