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  

remembering
everything 

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:  http://houseoferotica.tumblr.com/post/5917916595/you-in-my-arms-tonight-its-all-i-want-not-only

Under the glass

I wipe

red lipstick stain on

brim of white coffee cup

combing  

long dark hair, unbraided

not a strand uncurled

I whisper   

words lest secrets echo

beyond walls of silvery glass

gazing  

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:  http://silent-musings.tumblr.com/post/10149554926 

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.

picture credit: http://gildam.tumblr.com/post/10089886913/photo-by-rosie-huntington-whiteley

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:   http://kmrants.tumblr.com/  

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  

Author's Note:   Re-posted for Poetry Jam - the prompt is windows
For Flash Fiction Friday (G-Man) And Poets United:The Thursday Think Tank #65 - Windows

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:   http://beautiful-portals.tumblr.com/post/9750985027