Whisperings Book Cover Poll

When deciding what I wanted my book cover to be for my poetry collection, I knew that it had to be personal.  It needed to speak to me, to who I was and to who I am, and it needed to speak to my writing.  I had narrowed it down to two choices.  The first image is of a bridge by a silent lake, which captured my love for nature, philosophy and unspoken truths.  It also shows the juxtaposition of man-made elements with nature, a common theme in my poetry.  The second image is of me looking out the window, reflecting upon my life and reflecting on the world, with leaves drifting down, whispering my secrets.

The first time I put this poll up for my friends a few months ago, it was a very close vote.  Some people liked the bridge because it had a more traditional look, while others liked the window because it was more personal.  The bridge won by 1 vote, I believe.  I wanted to have this vote again now that I am closer to finalizing my book to see if anything has changed.  Also, the cover design will influence how I plan to design the background of the pages within.  Thanks for your time and support.  I look forward to seeing the results!

whispering2

whispering1

Twilight

The soft glow emanates from the sky,
no longer beautiful pinks and purples,
but a dark, dark blue and a dim, dim black.
My eyes adjust to the darkness,
as a chill goes up my spine.

Ducks and crickets sing to the night,
fish perform acrobatics
in the lake
causing ripples to spread,
here, there, everywhere…

**********************************

I feel your hand embrace mine,
the warmth tingles up my spine
as I lean in close to you
hearing your heart beat
against mine.

We watch the day turn to night,
listening to nature’s symphony.

The Sense of Urgency

The Sense of Urgency

I find it amusing to see cars race to cut me off only to be stopped at the red light, needing to brake furiously.  Americans are often in a hurry to accomplish so many things on a given day that they fail to see the beauty in the world.  I try not to be one of those people, so I make it a conscious decision to take a moment to breathe.

The Sense of Urgency

Cars on the freeway
speeding and braking,
braking and speeding,
drivers on the freeway
cursing and cussing,
cussing and cursing
because they’re gonna be late.

People in line
crossing their arms
stomping their feet
cursing and cussing,
cussing and cursing
because they’re gonna be late.

Tick, tock, tick tock
what is the meaning
of the clock?

clock
Every delay
can make you late
for a meeting,
a workout,
a dinner,
a hangout,
or a sitcom
in bed.

Every delay
is an opportunity
to enjoy the moment,

to watch the  sun set
in brilliant colors,
to watch the rain reflect
off wet pavement,

to sing along
to a song,
to listen
to the angelic voice
of the cashier,

to see a child
smile
from pure joy,
to simply
take a moment
for yourself
to cherish
every delay

every day
and make it well spent
because you never know
when your last delay
will be.

The Journey Begins Here

The Journey Begins Here

As of yesterday, I have officially started my poetic journey by launching the following to celebrate the last decade of my life.

This was definitely a great way to end the year.  I am excited for 2014 and all the exciting things it will bring.  I invite you to join me in my poetic journey through any of the channels above.

* Please note that some of my poems posted here may be previously posted in my personal blog Jenuine Inspiration, so don’t be alarmed if you see them there =)

Thank you for the support and see you in the new year!

Tranquil Beauty

I wrote this poem while on a plane ride and was just mesmerized by the scene unfolding before me.

Tranquil Beauty

High above in the troposphere,
a blanket of clouds form a sea,
thin, wispy and free
floating like cream on your coffee.

Imagine walking through cloudy fog
with no pressure, no resistance,
knee deep and feeling nothing
but the white that you see.

Canoeing through waves of white,
textured clouds, feeling motion
without force, moving, but standing
still in an ocean where there’s no reflection,
but the ones in your mind.

Listen to the wispy clouds crashing
weightlessly against the imaginary shore.
Waves so gentle like foams of cream,
a truly silent beauty.

As the sun starts to set
above the sea of clouds,
gradients of pink and orange
melt into the baby blue sky.
A sunset where
no bird’s eye has really seen.

As we fly lower and lower
into the field of clouds,
a beautiful meadow of white,
sparkles of precipitation
appear before my very eyes,
leaving behind
trails of shooting stars,
in the twilight sky,
a stream of wishes by my window side.
I close my eyes and dream.

The scene outside my window

The scene outside my window

Frozen in Time, The Beat Goes On

This was a fun poem I wrote based on the theme of music.  It’s one of my favorite pieces because I just love the musical rhythm and the fact that I was pretending to be a man.

Frozen in Time, The Beat Goes On

Sparkling glitter and gold,
swaying side to side,
she captures my eyes
keeping me hypnotized.
Longing for her touch,
wanting to know her name,
my heart beats faster
as I gasp for breath.
The beat goes on.

Music filling my ears,
her body filling my mind,
I dance and dance
swinging and shaking
trying to catch her eye,
waiting … longing …
hesitating …

holding my breath,
she looks my way
and I am lost.
lost in my mind,
frozen in time,
caught in her eyes
hypnotized.
The beat goes on.

Working her way
through the crowd,
sliding and gliding
to be by my side.
She’s grasping my hand,
I’m gasping for air,
but without a care,
she dances,
seducing me with her hips.
The beat goes on.

How can I ever forget
the girl who captured my heart?
The girl like an angel,
but with mischief in her eyes.

My little witch
who kept my heart beating
as our bodies swayed,
lips met, minds collide.

On that special night,
our souls touched
and I lost my sight,
blinded by love.
The beat goes on.

Disco Psychedelic Dance

Writing Challenge

Now it’s your turn

  • Write a poem based on the theme of music and post it in the comments below.
The Paper Box

The Paper Box

While looking through pages and pages of my journals to compile my poetry book, I came across this poem that I wrote a couple years ago when I thought I had lost my best friend.  I had forgotten that I had wrote this and it brought back sweet memories.

The Paper Box

I looked down at the crisp sheet of paper.
I had written his name in cursive letters.
Whether it was superstition
or a sign of faith,
I slipped his name into a paper box.

My best friend had been gone for days.
Where did he go?
I didn’t know.
I looked far and near -
from the neighborhood to the parks,
I searched everywhere.

I longed to see his face -
his round little eyes,
his pink curling tongue,
his floppy, girly ears.
I wanted to hold him near.
I wished that he was happy.
Yearning for his return,
hoping and praying,
and continually saying
that he was “OK.”
Then my prayers were answered
and he came home one night.

Wagging his tail and full of life,
pouncing with all his might.
He was glad to be home.
We embraced him with our love.
He had been gone for a week.

His energy decreased
after the first night
and he refused to eat.
Skinny and starving,
looking frail and weak.
My heart ached to see him.
The poor boy was ill,
but I loved him still.
With tender loving care -
stroking, feeding, petting -
Slowly, but surely,
we nursed him to health.

Happy was home,
that much is true,
Paper box, thank you!

A photo of Happy

A photo of Happy

The Courage of Youth

As people get older, they tend to lose a part of their childhood wonderment as they often let fear, social status and pessimism consume their minds.  As we approach the new year, I want to encourage all of you to let loose and have a little fun.  Let your inner child shine through =)  Here is a poem of my random adventure in the park.

The Courage of Youth

Climbing
through the jungle
gym, reaching for ropes
and bars and handholds,
you pull yourself through,
with strength
from your arms
to your knees,
with your agility,

you pull yourself up,
slightly breathless,
gasping for air,
grasping for balance,
reaching the
satisfaction
of being
on top,

fulfilling
a challenge
that’s twice
as difficult
at your size,
and at your age,
but knowing
that you’re never
too old

to be silly
enough to try,
to be brave
enough to fall,
to be determined,
to be challenged,
to be a kid
on top of the world.

jungle-gym

Not Even the Trees

Not Even the Trees

Steel-toed boots, high-heeled shoes,
K*Swiss, Nike, Doc Martins -

Soles on wet pavement
taking step after step,
long-legged strides,
some in jeans, some in skirts.

Soles on reflected orange lights,
shimmering green, flickering yellow.
What does it mean?
The meaning is lost.

Owners of soles
on the same path.
North, South, East, West,
they converge and diverge,
but it’s still the same path.

Through raindrops on wet pavement,
passed storefronts and passing cars,
longing for merchandise,
longing for the past.

Heads bowed down
staring at puddles
of memory,
ripples
of emotion.

The soles walk on,
seeing but not seen,
seen but not seeing,
in the dark, dark night.

The wind whispers
to the trees
and the trees
whisper back,
pondering, contemplating
the meaning
and the meaning
is lost.

trees

Writing Challenge:

Now it’s your turn -

  • This poem was inspired by the song “Not Even the Trees” by Hootie & the Blowfish
  • Write a poem based on a song that speaks to you.
  • Enter your poem as a comment below.