Green Tea

Photo from Ella's Edge

Quiet, as I sit down

Knees folding 

Like an origami crane.

I was crisp and temporary

in that moment

When you set that tea cup

And I turn it this way

A little that way.

I close my eyes and take a sip

green leaves whirl

at the bottom

As silent as my wishes.

I have enjoyed tea ceremony with my Japanese friends
and they showed me how to appreciate the moment. I like the bitter tea
and the tiny sweet cake that accompanies it.
 Of course with coffee I take it large,creamy and sweet.;)
Great prompt. So satisfying...
Photo courtesy of Ella's Edge.

My offering for Poets United...

A Sevenling: No Roses to Remember

There are no roses to remember

Only crossword puzzles and Jimmy Dean,

Brainstormings and quaquaversal readings.

I dance no boogie, you play no jazz

Only our heartbeats can play as one

But why is it that after twenty years

The wind brings laughter I cannot recall...

                               A form that intrigues me... This is my offering for Real Toads

Voice

This is my answer to that voice in the desert.


Woman, speak! Your voice, I hear it in the wind.
In the desert of your pain, come chill my bones.






I am enraged at the pain and suffering of other women. 
We are so lucky to have the luxury of speech.But the landai
is a weapon that a woman can hide in her garments or wiles.


Offering for Real Toads.

Sargasso

Tonight I fall headlong

Down into that abyss

The yawning cauldron,

And then calm

Before the water

Hits rockbottom

I crawl with jointed limbs

On the crags and on the cliff

My aerials shudder as I feel

The ancient craving

And inundation of your lip.

I am Raggedy Ann hurling

Into the eye of the cyclone

Perspiration freezing my bones

Traversing the deathly silence

Of the stone.

Tonight I fall headlong

Deep

Deep

Deep into that abyss

The moon mask looking on

Black iris of the sky,

I rise seaweed tangled

Your memory clinging to my hair

Like a barnacle.

Mother

She cut and carved her throne

Chiseled each nook with sordid care

Laid  each crevice with jewels

As if tomorrow have no place on earth.

She sat erect her sceptre held aloft

As if to bless all the commonfolks

Her boudouir a welcome hall

Her subjects greedy with tales told.

The brickwalls and chandeliers were witness

When queen and princess

 Hurled firestones

And gifted each other poisoned words

To seal apart their blighted worlds.

The hourglass amassed with sand

Turned upside down to let time run

A little kinder here

A little love flew there

In between two hearts too regal to avow.

Time stood between time

The wax has darkened the polished woods

The dents on silver reflect the ancient moon

In place of her crown the queen wears a solemn calm

And blessed her daughter

A precious ring of halcyon.

Frieda's Blue

Mommy’s dead

 She left me and baby Nick

Only milk and bread

Now everybody’s talking

 Like she’s some princess of dread

Mommy’s dead

She put her head in the oven

Baked it like bread

Mommy’s dead.

I wish I can cry

And beat myself red

But I can’t since Nick is crying ahead

Mommy’s dead

So so dead

Locked inside my head.

Still Life

Years have sliced me

Into little squares.

Flat, shiny jewels

So exact and so still

Quaint, noiseless frames

Captured and hoarded

To fill my book.

It is a known fact

That people have traded everything

For just about anything

But I have never known anyone

Give up photos for something else.

Life in a capsule

Some bitter, some limited

Others contained and coated

With saccharine smiles.

It really depends on

How one wants to be remembered.

They say there comes a time

When one questions and despairs,

Like asking a prestidigitator

To pull out a rabbit from a hat

Or to agitate ancient moss at the bottom

Of a pond. Anything.

When I, a lover of words

Could never make heads nor tails

Out of rhymes

That used to give me chills.

Baby pictures seem to be a favorite.

The first smile, the teeth nonexistent and guilt free.

The wedding picture, execution style.

A façade, bricked off by the layer of lies

We try so hard to believe.

We bleach everything

From pillows to blankets,

Repair the damage good as new

Iron the edges (take no hostages!)

There’s nothing we can’t do

To make everything perfect in a photo.

After all, it’s just about lighting.

At night I’d flip

Through my treasure

Eyes growing sharper

Memory growing dim

The sharp edges cutting my finger

Until it bleeds.

Shared with Real Toads.  Hello poets!

Hush in the Mountains

It was a tingly morning mist

That hushed past the pines

The gentle glide

Brushing against my cheeks

So sleek and so cool

It was a memory ready for recall

That filled the empty clearing

Gathering in a cluster

To bathe me in it's warmth

There was a wayward cloud

Playing touch and go

Bandanna wrapping the blue

Silence and me.

It's beautiful

The limpid mountain

And tiny smoke

Etched above a chimney.

I see far beyond the

The tall trees

The glass hills and cattails.

I am a bluebird

Too happy to sing.

Hi dear poets! I'm glad I can post something for the Poets United. :)