Swirling in the air,
nature’s confetti
fallen to the ground,
a slumber party –
The color of mangoes
against the green grass,
a painter’s vision
of beautiful trash.
Drenched by rain,
blown by breeze,
always trampled on,
Autumn leaves.
Hear the crunch,
feel the wrinkles,
trace the lines
that twinkle
in the sun.
Sparkles and shines
from green to gold to red,
a chameleon of time.
Blue, green, pink, peach, white
rectangular blocks of clay
sitting on your desk
beckoning to come alive.
It’s silent and dark,
the spotlight
is on you
as you peel back
the plastic
and knead the clay
over and over
in your palms
until the clay is soft
and your fingers hurt.
Slowly you shape
the legs, mold the torso,
add the shoes,
check the size,
make sure you’re satisfied.
Add the chest, mold the arms,
ensure it stands upright,
mix some pink, mix some white,
mix some yellow too,
now you have a skin-like peach
that works, that works for you.
Work your fingers, mold the face,
shape the nose, the ears, the eyes,
envision what you had envisioned
in your mind.
Take it, bake it, make it
come to life. Draw the eyes,
add a smile, dot some hair,
add a spring, he’ll bobble,
glad to be here, glad to be alive.
Are you poetically inclined
to change my mind,
with words and phrases
and changing phases –
Winter, spring, summer, fall,
life, love, sadness and all?
To laugh, to cry,
to laugh and cry,
to fail, to try,
to try and fail.
It’s bittersweet
when nothing remains
as you cringe in pain
in the pounding rain,
bleeding in shame,
wondering what
you had done wrong.
Too short
to find happiness,
long enough
to cherish memories.
Loving pain,
hating love,
needing both.
The oxymoron
where shadows mix
with sunlit rays.
Metaphors and similes
don’t change a thing.
Touch my life.
Yeah, right.
I know the truth,
hidden deeper
and deeper
in my mind,
reflected in
your sparkling eyes,
a heart-shaped
teardrop
above your lips,
whispering words
of comfort,
to cover thoughts
of pain.
Yes, I know.
Are you still
poetically inclined
to change my mind?
Hand in hand, walking along the beach
as our feet sink into the warm, soft sand.
Is this what lovers do
as they watch waves crashing
against the shore?
Cascading patterns of beauty,
moving back and forth,
proceeding with weight
and density,
receding with transparent
clarity.
Mixed with the gentle breeze of the wind,
it’s like a musical dance of nature.
Refreshing foams of water
melt into the arms of the soft sand,
an endearing moment
repeated throughout time,
a truly magnetic wonder
that attracts both man and bird alike.
Flirting with danger,
they touch the tip of the wave,
a sensational feeling of ice.
Overwhelmed by its intensity,
they run to shore,
afraid to be sucked in deeper,
yet tempted
by the unknown,
they return…
and we stare…
mesmerized.
Going on an evening stroll,
step by step,
swinging my arms,
twisting my torso,
loving the movement,
feeling the freedom,
listening to mellow melodies
of instrumentals.
I watch black birds
swirl in the sky,
flying in harmony,
dancing in rhythm
loving life,
living freely
in the pink-blue sky.
Through the storm they ran,
slipping and sliding
on the muddy hills.
It was a race home,
to see who could be the first
to receive hot cocoa,
and Mother’s warm embrace.
They longed to see
the flicker of light
in her eyes,
and hear
the soothing music
of her voice
in the comfort
of their home.
Yet the storm raged on,
with strong, heavy rain
that slashed their cheeks,
thunder that cackled
liked monsters,
wind that cried
like banshees,
lightning that blinded
their eyes,
while fear
crossed their hearts.
They may never
see Mother
again.
If you have previously visited my blog and played around with the menus and sub-menus, you will notice that my Poetry Themes have changed.
The original themes were:
Now that I have reached the final stretch of publishing my poetry book, I have updated the themes on the blog to match the actual printed product. The existing blog posts have been re-categorized accordingly. Please note that the poems will not appear in this exact order in the final book and not all poems posted here will be included in the book (as I post the poems depending on my mood). Due to how I previously categorized the poems, certain categories have more poems associated with them. I will be flushing out the sections that have fewer poems first in the coming months. I hope you enjoy the new themes listed below:
As the sun starts to rise,
I can feel her breath upon me
with the scent of morning dew.
Dancing in the breeze,
she glows with life.
Her hair rustles in the wind,
skirt flowing hypnotically
back and forth, rhythmically
and I am captivated
by her beauty.
Her wrinkled bulldog
skin glows with warmth
and I long to caress
each bump, each curve,
each crevice, touching it,
loving it, knowing it,
controlling it, predicting
her sometimes erratic behavior
as she breaks down
and cries,
shedding inches and inches
of tears
until her clothes
are no longer
dry.
When her anxiety is gone,
she smiles once more
and breaks my heart
with her rainbow emotions
and famous mid-day pastels.
Her mix of pinks and oranges
overlapping purples, intertwining
emotions freeze my eyes
with longing and I want to hold her
in my arms, in my memory
forever
under the golden, vanilla
sky.
Refreshingly sweet,
she whispers melodies
throughout the night,
calming my nerves
with her gentle voice,
brushing away pain
with a simple sweep
of her hand.
Late at night,
when I’m lost,
she guides me
with her moonlight.
Her sensual curves
of earthly tones
glows with love
as she undresses
before me
and I am struck
with awe.
A twinkle of light
sparkles in her eyes
as she melts
into the night
and I am mesmerized,
knowing, we would never
be one.
Tall and slender,
lots of curves,
buns of steel,
blue as the sky,
deep as the sea,
hopeful, bright,
and happy.
A golden interior,
leather seats
massaging my back,
caressing me.
Waiting in park,
waiting patiently.
Key to the engine,
key to his heart.
His every move
is my command.
“Imagine,”
he sings
my favorite song.
Tap, tap, we drive
slowly, cautiously.
Over time, faster,
passionately.
Right turn, left turn,
U-turn, I turn.
We move in sync
to the traffic jam,
“dancing in the moonlight.”
I light a cigarette,
the wind blows
my hair back.
His mirrored eyes
tell me how beautiful
I am.
While I’m lost
in thought,
he reads
my mind.
Green light, red light,
he knows to stop.
In hours of darkness,
he becomes my light.
When teardrops
block my vision,
he wipes away the rain.
When I become lost,
he’s my GPS.
In hours of sorrow,
he sings my song.
He takes me places
far away from here.
He sets me free
on the open highway,
under the star-filled sky.
He is “the wind
beneath my wings.”
A smile slowly creeps
onto my tired, drained face
as you woo me with words
from miles away.
I can only imagine
how it’ll sound
being whispered
in my ear.
Will it take
my breath away?
Pouty lip kisses
and emoticon hugs,
past, present, future,
anything and everything,
we talk of it,
day after day,
night after night
until my eyes droop down
and the sun comes up.
Yours and mine,
a connection
that cannot be defined.
I haven’t met you,
but I know you.
I don’t know you,
but I love you.
The stars say
it’s a dream come true,
MASH said
I’d marry K,
but I don’t know.
You’re so close,
yet so far
away.
Whisperings 