Wednesday, April 30, 2014


I lower the tea bag,
a chamomile-orange,
in the hot water…
The sun’s slowly sinking
in the black sea…

We descend in unknown,
into acrid basement
of consciousness,
where old spirit dwells,
awaiting us for merci

on the edge of life,
sewing the seam
behind the needle
we blueprinted our path

recovering after encounters,
walk thru quarantines
of forgiveness -
face dramatic farce…

The sun’s slowly sinking
in the black sea…
I lower the tea bag,
a chamomile-orange,
in the hot water…

Sunday, April 27, 2014

The hint

Magpie Tales image

My Master?  Disappeared.
Left Open Windows
Commanded: Serve!

Read more at: Magpie Tales

Fit in

Is there real difference between a cat
sitting on the branch of tree under the sky
and – under the grand piano cover?

To fit in the corner of the world, big or small
surrounded by strings, hummers and the soul
waiting for sounds, when the hummer moves
to hit the spot…

What can the cat channel, chewing on wooden peg?
A pitch becomes new mantra- even beasty cancer receding…

The music – only? thing the cat cheats on humans,-
talking of unspeakable turbulent emotions’ release.

 by Brenda Warren

Saturday, April 26, 2014


Imaginary garden with real toads by Marian

W is for wasted time/double work
if you doubted a worth of words.

W is for weather - under its sticky blanket
sneak to pretend: you - out of world.

W is for who we worship, amazed by
whimsical wisdom of ‘wizard’.

W is for “whew”, when the poem’s completed
whether or not I used wherewithal.

Read more at: Imaginary garden with real toads

Wednesday, April 23, 2014


This viscous thought
I roll in the hollow structure
tending to let it out,
instead – murmur and groan
moving to howl.

The muscular hydrostat
on the floors
test/taste the offering
even not material,-
visualized once.

Is it edible? Aligned with
The nerves & blood vessels
supply the answers.

Sensitive, it keeps moist,
articulates the needs;
adept, it knows
how to manipulate
for mastication
and when to spit.

Tuesday, April 22, 2014


Photo by Lolamouse, Imaginary garden with real toads

You've granted me
with so many arms
handy to use
for chores
to caress

Raising to vote
for better choice
laying to calm
the growing stress

Sometimes they meet:
the right scrabbles the left
in shame

Hands shaking – the best
for reaching consensus
they aim…

Sunday, April 20, 2014

Rocking chance

 Art by Kathryn Stottler
Art by Kathryn Stotter

I open my hands
to embrace
the rocking chance

playing, swaying
teasing thru bones
-sharp aches-
the creative mess

flowing in the water
I stand above
on my limbs/bridge

a chance may come
but – over time

stolen years smile
sinking in the ground
thru the roots

let them go

all trees show
the way to heaven
we were called Home.

Read more at: Sunday Whirl


Finland, 1968, photo by George F. Mobley 

 “Change: it’s inside job.”
Maria De Simone,
We’ve started in groups
tribes couples
or single

Balloons – 5 or 6
for parade

Swords pointed up
to delay the departure
we mingle

White/green grass/birch
warm coats
white hats.

The April in Finland?
The Earth Day?
The Easter?

The tips of the shoes
ahead of
the shades.

The hearts climb up high
to correct
a destination

We choose to avoid
being poked by
the chance.

Read more at: Magpie Tales

Saturday, April 19, 2014

Shades of rain

The yel-low was yel-low
until the shades of rain
fell pat/pet-al of them


pestle, stamens, petals
twilight memory…

Read more at: Imaginary garden with real toads

Tuesday, April 15, 2014

Lucid gleams

Bathing in full moon
leaned as if a mom
to the cradle of Earth
swaying, singing
the lullaby of endurance

picture the fairy tales
to forget the pain
to indulge in the contours
and marks

tracing the haze
sliding over the olive skin
charcoal arms
mannered (la-di-da)
threaten, embraced,

the kaleidoscope
of emotions
‘show and tell’

which one you choose?

Sunday, April 13, 2014

Not porcelain, real!

The King of Cats, 1935, Balthus 

I sense the smile in the air
I swear it’s here
with chant: ‘every day
in every way I get better
and better’

in limbo turns weightless
it freely surrounds
not to offend

never gaudy, it paints
self portrait
briefly on papers
out of shape

my wrists still bend
to grip for the whip
to strain the will, but

submissively tumble
when see it's flying
all arguments are fading
in the moonlit strut.


Shared with PU Poetry Pantry

Saturday, April 12, 2014

Watermelon eyes

Kid's Art from Margaret at Imaginary garden

I remember those days
when mom would buy
a red ripe watermelon

tested as appropriate
for sonorous sound
clapped incentively
at its zebra butt

we, kids could receive
the couple of crusts
strictly alerted
to eat only red part

the rest – leave for pigs
and use the knives
to avoid the perleches.

I could follow
watermelon sweet juice
the whole day…

Read more at:  Imaginary Garden with real toads: Child's Verse

Tuesday, April 8, 2014


 Photo: Rob Neizen
Photo: Rob Neizen

1.    Path

Not choosing the path
at the beginning
naked, helpless,
we get tattooed
by culture
giving away
the power
until maturity time.

2.    Pores

I’ll come to my path
through pores
humidity channels
in ancient gaze
absorbed the fresh
crystal water.

3.    Fears

Still keep looking back
expecting a regular hint
from someone
who’d shoulder my burden…

Rely on thyself –
no windows
where I’m feeling high

so powerful!
my world looks in me
to collect the stars…

Sunday, April 6, 2014

New project

photo by Kelsey Hannah 

Was she projected by some crazy fantasy?
Did she feel as a toy in the hands of a fortune?
The rejection has grown up, become a ripe to push her to stand tall!
The hand groped the glass wall…
Was it easy to brake it?
She felt the warmth in her palms… from other side ‘they’ have silently requested help.

Unit of whole

 'Girl on a swing' by V. Ruppert
'Girl on a swing' by V. Ruppert

The girl was swinging back and forth, back and forth…
as no barrier – the fence on the way.
Flying above the neighbor yard she had noticed a peacock
with pleated tail (accordion style).
The bird suspended for sec, unzipping the tail in deep reverence, and its waterfall of diamond eyes has dazzled the girl!
She moved the body awkwardly, lost a power…
The tough strap saved the life.

Read more at: Sunday Whirl.

Shared with PU, Poetry Pantry

Thursday, April 3, 2014


 Art by Azam Atakhanov
Art by Azam Atakhanov 2005

The Artist painted on canvas
the texture tiles are  bright and dark
so vibrant from the trees to women
ripe for the season/ working in the yard.

The souls of trees become the women’s
amazed by shiny curves of twigs
so weighted down by crimson apples
with human hearts and evil tweak.

The soul of watch-man long been swamped
awakes, amused by twinkling light,
reflected on the robes and kerchiefs
provoking tender senses’ flight.

Wednesday, April 2, 2014

Before decomposing

“Yes, I use sticks to scratch words”
                                                 E. Rinaldi

Spring pierces the veins, vessels,
I quit walking, pronk up vile pit.
This transfusion takes all
the words I’ve absorbed
before decomposing will glee.

I scratch the fonts of letters
to give the different shades
to my thoughts.
The approach – diverse one,
using a half-known media,
fresh air – few words,
my muse paused,
and the process reverts.

Inhale the wisdom
of blind gaunt syllable,
I step every day in
a hue of the pace,
grasping  the blessing
of all pitfalls,
the facsimile of
poetic face.

Read more at: Mid_Week Motif PU, Three Words Wednesday

Tuesday, April 1, 2014

Transparent drops

Rain-snow - sleet, eyes-squeezed
illusive,  surreal days
here and now,
close and far away,
skills – manipulative
deja vu - ing from
the gutter in melted
winter-water memory
warm clothes’ survey
serving the shivering souls
O, herb dried ekibany!
narrow brooks
have broke thru the skin
near distant well
of healing moister,
and if I peacefully evaporate
who will notice the loss…
the tears return
the silver escort
of singular cloud
reminds the effort…