(Im)Print

fragile is my name
when i am stranded in your hands ~
formerly bold, i crumble
and leave
delicate calligraphy
for you to paint across your heart
in pulsing letters.

Iced Earth

BI_Ice_Crystals

there is a part of me,
crystalized;
hanging from a longing cedar bough ~
trapped in layered stillness
& waiting for (the) spring

when all i want to do
is ebb and flow.

______________________________
photo credits: antacticimages.com

Once, Always.

once, I did not drown ~
forced towards
stagnant water’s edge

washed you off my hands,
once, twice, thrice ~
yet, you never left.

water turned to sand ~
i found you,
once again, timeless

now, as storms pass, your
lips are mine ~
as you always were.

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5-3-5 syllabic Kelly Lunes (the American Haiku)

Dewdrops

misty mo(u)rning shivers
in the crystal clear cold
& dives, frog-legged,
into the still green-stemmed ocean.

it is a marvel to see
strain strip
down to nothing but
a dewdrop necklace, suddenly smiling ~
and deep within the heart
the golden dragon
stirs.

tUScany

beyond the 10-hour-glass-front
(knotty-legged in this familiarly backstabbing seat)
an ocean of rye, harboring
this groggy wooden chair, tilting drunkenly;
young poppy blossom on tiptoe, reaching
to lend a delicate hand to the Seasoned ~
the bus crescendoed, sputtering,
and your eyes grew distant.

“I never liked olives,” you said that evening,
and flicked the black through liquid gold, bumping
into its younger brother,
like marbles on chipped china.
wild capers scrambled through
the cracks of shattered amphorae, nested
in a jungle of vines ~ you took
a sip of ruby red & I
saw the aaaaah in your eyes, lips sealed in a secretive smile ~

in a matter of minutes, we found ourselves
deeply rooted
in the Garden of Eden.

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Written for Karin Gustafson’s prompt over at dVerse. Today, we’re doing Poetics Italian Style. So good to be back… grab a pen and join us at the bar!

Anthology

I could be
a moment, tipping
over the edge of space
to fall
and never fall
again.

I could be
a letter, lost;
curving,
curling black on fading white
where words are left
unspoken.

i could be
a trace, sighing
on the shores of nowhere, turning
with the tides
as faces
change.

I could be
a life, swaying
on the thin line between
high heaven & rock bottom,
placing careful steps
in worn out shoes.

I could be
this world, unscathed
and never fully grown, as ages float
among the clouds & leave
the faintest kiss
on greying hair.

I could be
whole
& scattered all the same —
but in your arms
I simply
am.

Free(d) Spirit

upon the winds, a fatal blow
sends maybe to another place,
and stirs the beat of cold, blue hearts
to meet the serpent, face to face.

upon the winds, a battle fought
with teeth and nails for dearest life,
and purest words evolve from ash
to cloak in light this endless strife.

upon the winds, a second breath
springs from the seed of newfound pride,
that overcame this horrid beast
now fuels purpose, strength and stride.

and on this morn, a soul reborn
perceives the world in more than grey,
lets color flood the dankest dark
upon the winds, she greets the day.

Neon

6880730629_4f81dd24f6_z

dreams cling to neon signs
& drip
from the city’s countless eyes,
dismissed.

i blink ~
tape butterfly wings
to wishful words, while
tomorrow ends in yesterday
& night takes hold.

fly…

______________________________
photo credits: google image search

Technicalities, Submerged.

sitting through this blatant lecture
of how and when and why
i doodle seahorses &
flip my mermaid’s tail – in time
to inward seaweed smiles.

at 8:34am i pray
(through glyphs and flowing ink),
that my hand will always be small enough
to fit into
reality’s gaps.

Reflection/Dear Self

Dear Self,

last night your tiny voice
played catch with moonbeams,
and in an instant of clarity,
your words rang true.

for too long i have buried you
under the stench of make-believe,
and waxen smiles, painted lipstick-red,
fastened lies to the surface.

it was the mirror of the moon
that thrust this bladed truth through prison’s flesh,
and feeble, makeshift lies flaked off my callused mind
to leave me bare & bathed in light.

i am sorry i failed you
for so long.
it is time for change.

M.

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Mary over at dVerse invites us to write an ‘epistolary poem’ for Poetics today – I wrote a letter-poem to myself. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect, thank you, Mary.
As I am going through some major changes in my life, I do not know how often I will be able to write over the next couple of weeks – time will tell. It will be quite a journey on my end, so bear with me…
I would like to say thank you to my wonderful readers and fellow poets… you never cease to amaze me.
See you soon!

Wish Upon A Star

there is laughter in the deep —
a skin-tight, voluptuous shooting star
emerges
from a bed of toxic waste

there is laughter in the deep —
an overripe serenade flutters,
sprung
from the pit of my stomach

there is laughter in the deep —
and pinpricked lips
kiss lilies
upon my cheek, forbidden.

Oasis

laughter clings to fac(ad)es
on riddled summer city streets,
cascades in slow motion
(to cellphone chirps and
whiffs of lemon scones),
settles
on the bridge of my nose &
ripples
in echoes
through my styrofoam cup.

i cut myself a piece of humid air
and breathe through watery pearls,
as my bare feet
sizzle
on asphalt.

Stripped Bare

sometimes i lose myself in the gap
between zombie flicks and heroic deeds;
there is a love story, wrapped in plastic,
that reveals my squishy core
and points your way

when pompous days retreat,
I seek refuge, devoid its colors
& smile in grey, not
taking sides
for a change

in this moment,
when your gaze holds mine,
I shed my heavy armor
and, for just a second,
become 
me,
unplugged.

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Fred Rutherford over at dVerse invites us to write a poem on the topic of becoming ‘unplugged’ for Poetics today. Grab a pen and join the fun!