a walk in the park,
a glance at the stars,
some chatting, some eating
cookies ‘n cream ice cream,
some humming,
some sipping
vanilla lattes
in a mellow cafe
writing poetry
on a rainy day.
some drawing, some painting,
some reading
on the couch,
some dancing, some jumping
some musical therapy.
some snuggling,
some cuddling,
some aromatherapy
shampoo,
some sleeping,
some dreaming,
a total ME day,
a dream come true.
– Read about how I spent my Friday “me day” here.
To celebrate the arrival of spring, I wanted to dedicate a post to bees that miraculously appeared in my life.
And now for a poem about a special moment I had with a bee…
A bee flew
onto my windshield,
landed without a sound.
As I thought,
“OMG, it’s a bee,”
its pulsating bottom
kept taunting me,
Beating like a heart,
Was it a sign of love,
or just biology?
Its legs were moving
constantly,
as if it didn’t know
what to do, dancing
on the windshield.
Then the wind
blew him away.
Maybe…
he was injured.
As I contemplated
this moment,
I saw a random truck
run a red light,
making
a left turn
from the straight
middle lane.
We see crazies
in this world.
And life
goes on.
If you own a cell phone, enjoy text messaging and have experienced romantic feelings, I’m sure this poem will speak to you =)
Addicted to His Words
Lying on cotton pillows
with silk embracing skin,
wrapped in fleece blankets,
moments from oblivion,
awaiting sweet slumber.
The scent of roses
drifts in your nose,
an intense feeling
of ecstasy,
yawning and stretching,
curled into a ball,
waiting to dream
of nirvana, utopia
or their synonmyms.
Eyelids droop down,
breathing slows down,
but you refuse to sleep
for the heart is not content,
beating with anticipation
as hands clench metal,
unwilling to let go,
ears perked, waiting
for the sound.
“Beep, beep..”
a smile creeps
onto your lips.
A SMS,
you’re addicted
to his words,
I went shopping at Forever 21 today and snatched a great deal on an outerwear/bomber jacket that was originally priced at $44.80, reduced to $30.99, with an additional 40% off, resulting in a final price of $20.22 including tax. It was awesome and I loved it! My boyfriend, on the other hand, decided to wait outside the store while I did my shopping. After all, shopping for clothes isn’t exactly fun for men, as I thought back of a poem I wrote many years ago. Maybe about a decade ago, I went shopping at Forever 21 and noticed a group of men hanging out by the window, waiting for their girlfriends. It inspired me to write this comedic poem. It still cracks me up to this day =)
A row of men
by the windowsill
tweedle dee, tweedle dum
in front of racks and racks
of spaghetti-straps,
low-rise jeans
and cute little tops.
Fanning himself,
he mutters,
“It’s so hot.”
Inside she squeals,
“It’s so hot,”
placing a red top
against her chest
over her black
mini-skirt,
twirling around
and around,
staring at
her reflection,
pulling
her hair up,
putting
her hair down,
flinging
it around.
They giggle,
her group of friends,
some in embarrassment,
some in envy,
some in private disgust.
Repeated over and over,
phrases and scenarios
throughout the store.
“It’s so cute.”
“It’s too tight.”
“That’s a deal.”
“Oh, my God!”
“They don’t have my size.”
“Hell, no!”
From day to day,
time to time,
shopping
and gossip.
A single girl
grabs a top.
“I got a boyfriend”
it says,
as she blushes
in thought.
“You do not!”
shouts her friend,
“I got a boyfriend,
and he’s hot,”
holding a black top
with just those words.
At the other rack,
a baby blue baby doll
reads, “My boyfriend’s out of town”
as a girl contemplates
naughty thoughts.
Tick tock, tick tock,
Alas she opted
for an army green top
that simply read
“I love my boyfriend.”
Tick tock, tick tock.
A row of men
sitting on the ledge
by the windowsill,
tweedle dee, tweedle dum.
He looks at him.
He looks at him.
He looks at the clock.
He sends a text.
Tick tock, tick tock.
Tweedle dee, tweedle dum.
He looks at him,
He looks at him,
“When is she done!?”
The days of
Forever…
21.
“A surprise,”
he had said
over the phone
while I was rushing
to finish my tasks.
Nervously I stand
now, adjusting my tie
as I knock.
Once, twice, three times,
and the door creaks open.
Silence
except for the ping, ping, ping
of the dripping faucet
coming from that room.
Sucking my breath,
I push it open
as a white towel
falls on my shoe.
Through the flickering
overhead lights,
I see a figure.
His arm drapes
over the rim.
Below the ragged slits
of his wrist –
a feathered pen
soaked in puddles
of blood,
broken glass,
with whiskey
leaking out.
Pills scatter
the floor.
He looks at me,
with open eyes,
not with love,
nor vengeance,
nor pride,
I don’t know with what,
and I don’t know why,
so I close them.
He looks like Marat,
naked,
in a bathtrub
of floating
petals.
A piece of paper
falls in my grasp,
written in blood,
poem of his life.
————————————————————
This was a poem I wrote a while back and I decided to post this piece tonight since my mind is fresh with a sense of “mystery,” as my friends and I participated in a Murder Mystery Dinner Party last night. I hope you enjoyed it!
I noticed that the challenge for this week was “Moon Shine” so it seemed like a perfect time to post this poem 🙂
Moonbathing
Whistling throughout the night,
the wind rustles the trees,
the grass, my glistening
fur coat
as I lie
on the wet soil, sniffing
the air, refreshing
after the last
rainfall.
Crystal droplets gleam
in the moonlight.
The crickets chant
vibrates in my ear,
melodic, soothing, hypnotic,
as white light dances
in the water.
Ripples of beauty
cascading throughout the pond,
mesmerizing,
and then I see her.
The small of her back, exposed
above a silky fabric
gently floating in the air.
Skin so smooth, so white,
like porcelain,
so very, very cold.
Her body drifts
toward me,
glistening
in the moonlight.
Under the twinkles
in the sky,
her soul
will be
reborn.
I close my eyes and howl.
——————————————————————————————————
To learn more about the challenge, visit: http://jakesprinters.wordpress.com/
Here’s a short, fun poem for you to enjoy 🙂
Nails
colored pink, silver,
or anything else,
they grow,
they scratch, they pick,
they peel.
round, square,
short or long,
they belong
on fingers
and toes.
I hope everyone had a great Valentine’s Day last Friday. To help you continue some of that romance, I’d like to share a sweet love poem with you.
Beauty in Silence
On a wooden bench,
we sit
with our endearing
shadows.
Your arm
around my shoulder,
my head on yours.
Fuzzy cashmere
brushes my cheek
as we watch
cars zoom by –
a flash of metal,
a puff of dust.
A squirrel scurries
across the lawn
as the sprinklers
turn on
with the scent
of Spring.
The breeze ruffles
your hair.
Tulips waver
side to side.
Leaves float
to the ground,
a gentle sound.
The sky changes colors,
the sun drops down
as your breathing
joins with mine.
Watching
the world go by.
I originally wrote this poem back in February 2008 while my ex was driving me to his place. It’s one of my favorite poems because of the fast-paced rhythm and the meaning behind it. I wasn’t planning to post this until October (around Halloween), but then I saw an “ominous” moon again on February 13th, almost 6 years after I wrote this poem and it just spoke to me. Lucky for me, I happened to have my camera to capture it as well. All the better for you 🙂
Ominous
A splotchy beige roundness
hidden behind clouds,
floating, hovering
in a violet, black sky,
luminous, ominous,
casting moonlit glares
upon us
as we drive
on the highway,
as we drive
ourselves insane.
Thinking, believing
that the shadows
against the moon
is a witch
on her broom,
that there are vampires
lurking,
predators
waiting
for prey.
Wolves crashing
through the forest,
ready to feast
and howl.
Witches dancing
around the cauldron
cooking
up spells,
as we shiver
in fear,
letting imagination
consume us.
But what we fear
is from within
the beats of our hearts,
the thump, thump
of greed, of jealousy,
of vanity and insecurity,
dishonesty,
lack of purity.
The anger, the madness
surges in flames
as we fidget and blink.
A pang in the chest,
a clasp to the heart
that pounds and pounds
as disparity crawls
on our backs.
Fear tickles
the spine.
The heat rushes
to our face
as we gasp and choke,
breaking out
in tears.
Fear of who we are,
of what we are,
and what we can do,
as we grasp
for the other’s hand,
trying to comprehend,
to understand,
to disbelieve
the insane.
Waiting, hoping
the clouds will disappear,
and the moon
will turn white again,
smiling down upon us
as we go back
to believe the world
is good
and that we
are sane.
The only good thing about an early morning flight for a business trip is the possible opportunity to see the sun rise while you are flying high in the sky. Lucky for me, this past Tuesday (being half awake), I was able to take in this beautiful view.
While this is not the best shot I could have taken with my camera phone, it should give you a general idea 🙂 You see, I was too busy initially marveling at the view and coming up with the right words to describe it in my poem. I hope you enjoy this piece. By the way, do you spot the heart in the first photo?
Sunrise in the Sky
An ocean of clouds,
textured, soft and clumpy
like cotton, like snow
bathed in champaigne
colored sunshine.
It weaves in and out
between mountain ranges
like wispy waves
thrashing
against the shore
moving
through ridges,
flowing
like a river,
falling
graciously,
sporadically
resembling
a waterfall
as the sun embraces
the glacier-like clouds
and mountains
with a gentle warmth,
a golden touch,
a lovely strip of pink
high above
the California sky.
I witness
this sight.
And here are two other cool images that I liked 🙂
Whisperings 