The earth gently opens
to show frail patterns
of leaves, green and purple, basking in their poise
before pulling back to
guard their sibling blooms.
Quails chatter in a calm
extinct birds’ language,
showing off their tanned wings to partners, hushing
at the delicious spray
of dew on their beaks.
Huge mountains and plains still
while oceans whisper,
as skies pour down, drenching tiny and huge lives
soaking the brownish sand
in colors of joy
The poem above has been written for
Carrot Ranch Double Ennead Monthly Poetry Challenge. Thank you, Colleen, for the opportunity.
indefinite search for destination unknown
This entry was posted on December 28, 2020, in
Haiku, Nature, Poems, Poetry and tagged Butterfly, Haiku, Nature, poem, Poetry, three line poetry.
The west wind howls in the woods, uprooting plants, tossing their nuts, and bending powerful trees. The branches nod to the teasing wind as nesting songbirds hold tight until the wind sails away.
The west wind now pauses by the pink splendor of the woods. Mesmerized, it calms into a breeze and crawls over each stem.
As the pink flowers dance in delight, the breeze finds its way to a corner, resting on an undiscovered flower. The breeze melts into the flower, enchanted by its texture and fragrance.
west wind halts
to trace each pattern
in a pecan leaf
This entry was posted on December 4, 2020, in
Haibun, Haiku, Nature, Poems, Poetry and tagged Haibun, Haiku, Nature, poem, Poetry.
Please find the following link to my haiku published in Spillwords.
This entry was posted on November 27, 2020, in
Haiku, Nature, Poem, Poetry, Poems, Poetry and tagged Drought, Haiku, poem, Poetry.
I walk close to the tangled barks
and buzzing noise
where creatures of the dark
watch me unseen.
Fear battling with persistence,
I tread into the darkness.
Branches block my vision
and stones prick my feet.
but walk on
when a gust of breeze
sweeps over me.
I look up to see a paradise
of flowers. The buzzing noises are
that of Red Admirals,
hovering around undiscovered flowers.
The tangled barks spread to huge branches
that offer shelter to millions
of tiny creatures, crawling and flying.
Did I fear the darkness?
Doesn’t the dark ultimately
make way for light?
The light of never-ending life,
promise and vigor.
All the trees in my country
have white barks that
give birth to white leaves.
Some stems have no offspring
while others have mutilated leaves.
I have a disfigured face and my
grown friend needs help dressing up.
All of us fear toy guns, water guns
and any signs of violence.
Yet I have seen videos
of your world 1000 years ago.
A beautiful world with green leaves
and healthy children.
I shudder at the anger and violence in your eyes.
We are now reaping your thirst for blood
and your experiment with nuclear war.
See for yourself.
All the trees in my country
have lifeless white barks
the loss of humanity.
Prodded by tiny leaves
and seduced by eager bees buds blossom well in advance of spring, illuminating dull leaves and somber trees
hides inside thick branches to find a friend in the eagle
I am the spark of fire
born from animosity.
I do not rue my birth
but transform into
a spark of hope
as I implant myself in
who crosses my path.
I will burn in them
as a light of hope
till they pass me to others.
I will stay alight
with faith and joy
till the end of the world.
This entry was posted on September 14, 2020, in
Children, Nature, People, Poems, Poetry and tagged Chaos, Fire, Hope, Joy, Light, Poetry, Spark.
I stare at the ceiling, wondering if it is 1 or 2 PM. At the corner of the table is a kerosene lantern, not used for many years. I light it and walk into the night. The creatures of the night hush at the sound of footsteps, but the persistent buzz of a bee holds my attention. The bee hovers around a wild plant; an orange bud. The bud sleeps on, unheeding the bee’s buzz and noise. But, the bee does not give up. It sits on the leaves and bends towards the bud, shaking it. Suddenly, there is a loud hiss. It is not the bee, but the flower. It opens up to reveal a yellow inner part, further illuminated by the lamp. The bee moves home and rekindles in my heart the hope to live.
orange bud blooms
baby’s first word
This entry was posted on August 13, 2020, in
Haibun, Haiku, Nature, Poems, Poetry and tagged Bud, flower, Haibun, Haiku, Hope, life, Nature, Prose.