Thursday, September 25, 2014


Time Warrior 2

The visitor from underground world,
the sneaky mediator of my regime,
redolent from gravity corner
sending grey 2D carton images
into my dreams.

I visualize, play/plan safe
siphoning to suck it in
increment by increment
from the depth/bottom
of the sliding shadowy
reality mine
into the hole of cross stitched
dream catcher net
above my bed.

Wednesday, September 24, 2014

Rest in peace

Photo by Brooke Shaden

Searching for the lost sense
we cling for squeaky lantern
distantly reminded
the sacred image
ghost reflection
energy spilling
from spirit
to heart.

Read more at d'Verse

Tuesday, September 23, 2014

the blind lantern: toil, boil, bubble and spit ( lid and parts )...

the blind lantern: toil, boil, bubble and spit ( lid and parts )...

He's channeled the howl of

lonely wolf,

who's been sucked

in the funnel

of black light cloak.

As stumbled and stuck

'cause of vast tense bit,

what he tried to bite -


in the midst of free

art of misery.

My way

 Art by Ed Odson
Art by Ed Odson

“I’m  always fighting
for the next minute.”
C. Bukowski

Planning to read,
write my reflection,
then I’m pondering:
is this what I want
to do? truly?
I could sit
in 9-5 cubicle
with tables of numbers
and graphics,
chew on the algorithms
of ‘if-then’
and tired
come home,
in trance 
the  TV screen…

The mood’s changing
I begin to  appreciate
the free will,
the schedule
that thrill
when I hear
my voice
“I’m always fighting
for the next

Saturday, September 20, 2014

Stronger than fate

Oh, these mousy worries
stalking the shoreline
a force to bend with a fate

tempered strength-
the reward for endurance

thoughts of unbearable challenge:
god would never give any
if he hasn’t known
you able to cope with it…
that special stratum
of human identity
which stronger than fate.

Read more at: Sunday Mini challenge, Imagine garden with real toads

Thursday, September 18, 2014

On the nose

Fall always finds me
sorting, collecting,
nose along the walls
perimeter counting
with black-shine-mouse
caught in the cage
of cold

the leaves tease
vibrancy of possibilities
brainstorming attack,
birds tweet to fly behind
the horizon…

and I stay invisibly stuck
glue to my intermittent
drinking the transparent liquid,
creating a productive scheme,
barricading books/blocks,
unopened letters,
emails -  for later.

Fall always finds me
talking with a brook
on the shortening walk,
typing/listen to find
the exit
thru ripples of
aspirant forth stream
picked soul up,
cleaning and lighten it,
prepare for next turn.

Monday, September 15, 2014

Through the grapevine

image ~ courtesy of Tess Kincaid

I remember:
we sit at the table
that heard/felt many talks,
different faces,
of stand off,
hearts, moaning in discussion
‘and what said St. Augustin’,
body and soul;
and trying, trying
to feel okay
during the world storm.

‘And that religion – for group,
alone you can worship
whomever you wish,
but it won’t be
a religion.’
‘And if it’s Utopia,
should we start from
building the jail?’

‘You can’t build the car
with no map..-‘
so important
an Intention,
the bright picture of you,
standing still
holding the lantern
of Love.

We dream co-exist
I like to come by
and see your smile
and hear: I’m fine.

Even if my perception
upside-down to yours. 

Read more at: Magpie Tales

Sunday, September 14, 2014


Ah, hospital tests
anxiety fluff
- ouch-
the doctors
the blood,
know well of
the center
of life
a jello.

by Brenda Warren

Read more at: Sunday Whirl

Friday, September 12, 2014


 Art by Bob Gregory
Art by Bob Gregory

He arrived to me late
I mean: his body was here
at the bench
feet on the floor
hands on piano
but the soul –somewhere else.

Sort of – his dad:
the computer he worked on
while the boy has been studying
was forgotten.
I offered the magazine
at the sofa.

No notebook with homework
No second book with new songs.
The student played well
the part of the homework song

-Are you playing every day as we talked?
-Have you included the piano study in your schedule? (me trying to stay calm)
-Not yet.
-What are you doing after school?
-A homework.
-Do you know that the right hemisphere of brain responsible for music and math, left – for language? So playing piano after school could be beneficial for your growth, nice change for the brain, feeling-good experience.
- Oh?- thinking.

Who knows? Will he try?
At the door I thank him
for bringing the head
at the shoulders.
All of it reminds of Gianni Rodari
fiction story about the boy
who loosing his body parts
along the way;
they being delivered to his mom
at home by strangers.
At the end of the day
she needs just put pieces
together. Light assembly required.

Did I just watch my reflection?..

Wednesday, September 10, 2014

The symphony of 3 notes

image ~ courtesy of Tess Kincaid

The carcass of the summer
ruined with rain cells
the fall
sent the messengers-moths
play the symphony of 3 notes


Thunderstorm drill
A violent geek
the twigs,
bushes’ leaves -
price of change.

Monday, September 8, 2014

Rain of hope

Art by Claudia Schoenfeld "Just for fun" 2014

Gods clobber drum/drops
the clouds with fists
not easy convinced
this world.

It finally quiet
and equal, at peace
hurray to the will
of the rain!

The taste of the air
you never forget
the bitterness, smack
of the water.

These tears felt as bribe,
for steam rooms behind
the new frame, eyes breathe
thru the glasses.

Gods clobber drum/drops
the clouds with fists
for skeptical world
rain of hope.

Read more at: Three Word Wednesday

Saturday, September 6, 2014


 The Art by Liza Corbett
Art by Liza Corbett

…she thrusts thorns-
the vulnerable rose-
it’s the only choice
to bullet the foreign
to make them stop
on the dismal spot
of slippery edge.

new path
will be unlocked
on the other side
of the hill land.

magic ball,
listen for
a signal,

Plenty of meanderings
on the road…

by Brenda Warren

Read more at:  Sunday Whirl, Flash Fiction 55

Monday, September 1, 2014

In charge

Dark Harbor, 1943, N. C. Wyeth 

Decades they had the same concerns.
The fish served well their contact
with collaborative community.
The chat usually has been held
in compromising state.
But time has changed.

The leadership of this season passed
to yelling seagulls. It was hard
not to listen to their caring

“The squeaky wheel gets oil.”

                                    Brenda Warren

Read more at: Sunday Whirl, Magpie Tales