Phases

In an open field the sleepy child saw a secret concealed it takes two men to change the moon right out of a sweven. Round-eyed wonder gapes at the spill field glowing under ladder past the skyline huffing puffing the orb dreamy blue clouds line. The child rubs his eyes at the sight of another

Aimless

The asphalt is awash with dwindling summer rain. Telephone lines sway against the dusky sky, people shuffle through the streets wending their way to tea stalls and eateries. Lively banter filters through the warm stifling interiors smelling of fried snacks and milky cardamom tea. The backstreet is lined with bikes. Under the canopy of a dripping

Moss Girl’s Dirge

The moss girl lying on ground slime-green; gunky is her mind a flower princess crowned? never her fate resigned. The peony prince won’t look at you her mind whispers-you are dust the restless forest knew he roams, bereaved soul lost. There she lies rotting; over wretched love roses do not bloom on moss; elegant and

Tailor-Bird

A tailor-bird in the leaves fawn feathers, lemon wings needle-beaked it weaves on the eaves it sings. Industrious bird, to and fro dawn to afternoon you toil perforating leaves for tomorrow cup-shaped nest untouched by soil. How I admire you, tailor your stitches leave no room just how the sun grows paler when the marigold

Mapped

Dying embers the muse ignites itself with a flint here’s your path I have it mapped into unknown territory will you spring? Labriynth torch held high a treasure hunt into an alternate reality across the gateways illustrious muse guide the way holding the map. Written for dVerse Quadrille #175 -Mapping Out Our Poems. Thanks for

Late Spring

Late Spring. The pale shy tender blooms of early spring pastel colours, soft tints hide themselves, as though they cannot stand the growing warmth of approaching summer. Bolder blooms peek their heads vibrantly carmine, fuschia, indigo and saffron. Ixoras, bouganvilliea, marigolds and geraniums a multitude of vividness devours the landscape. Welcoming the heat. They can

She, The Poetess

I was a bird released from a glass jar. I took wing into the vast sky and twittered over the flowery boughs in spring. My song attracted many. A sweet bird that sings. That’s all I was to me. From where does the melody spring?Who gave you this gift of music? It was my mother.

Virtue/Vice

Virtue poisons me  I am a good person she harps me with praise despite the thoughts  telling me I am otherwise dainty fingers mould Virtue shapes and refines  patting away the disgrace  a perfect specimen  of deference and poise look at yourself, she says I condemn myself inwardly smiling in benevolence  drinking from the cup 

Concentrate

Zoom follows me around focus on the meeting lectures through the internet heart quietly weeping I miss the days of Skype where I hollered loud hello can you hear me? no cognitive crowd I guess I cannot help it my brain zooms away concentrate. A Quadrille for dVerse Quadrille #173. Zoom meetings are known to

Untamed

I carress my plants marigolds burst into sunshine roses and jasmine; crimson and moonlight but the touch-me-not alone retreats blushing away in shame. A weed doesn’t deserve the green-fingered touch, it says uprooting it is a fair exchange but I let it alone in the shade for even weeds deserve love. For a one so

Rush Hour

Pop. Pop. Corn kernels split apart as the popcorn fluffs. Steamy, sweltering summer heat washes across the city. In the mass of heaving panting crowds desperate to get somewhere…the call of the metro train is what rules the denizens. If you miss the train, you’ll be late for your job. Tick Tock. The digital clock