Two young blades were we
all shear joy
making lacey hearts
and peek-a-boos too.
Red crayons broken,
black marker now dry
we’re older, less sharp
and rusted with age.
In synch through the years,
our curves more rounded
our pace less quick,
we still meet at the heart
you and I.
We make each other
our valentine.
Photo credit: Julia Freeman-Woolpert
It was a summer of letters,
you there, me here.
The days of thinking slowly,
rolling words around
until they landed just right.
The days of ink to vellum
and a blotter for splotches,
hand heavy with emotion
or tear drops of missing.
And sometimes our words crossed
like a wind shift, dropping seeds
too early to be devoured or take root.
That summer of letters,
so many years and memories ago,
carefully bundled with dried lavender
tucked away in the back closet shelf.
Photo Credit: Alex Drahon
Like our life, a meld of tangles and the beautiful.
Skeins of wool.
Layer upon layer, unwound and wound again, shaped anew
redefined for you.
My arms, for warmth ‘neath heavens above,
reflect our love,
as we stand, dreams shared, taking hold of
us in this sparkling path of moonlight.
We blend together, you and I, like bright
skeins of wool, redefined for you, reflect our love.
An Ovillejo written for dVerse. A Spanish form of verse, ovillejo is a 10 line poem: rhyme scheme aa, bb, ccd, dd and the final 10th line must be lines 2, 4 & 6 verbatim. Lines 2, 4 and 6 are short, remaining lines long. Whew! Like doing a sudoku in poetry!!! Photo Credit: Ula Kapala
The weather shifted suddenly. For weeks, I walked along the tree-lined path with Sakura. She and I wrapped warmly in our love. Mother ignored the almanac’s provisions, coaxing cherry trees to bloom again. Shades of pink daring to be seen among branches stripped bare in their dormant season. They did not understand, the calendar progresses relentlessly.
And so I walk alone today, Sakura gone. Cold seeps into my bones and the sentinels of this path. New fallen snow blankets branches and lands upon my face. But it is not a comforter to me, nor to these delicate blossoms, still life in this winter scene.
She shall shroud your love
like new fallen snow upon the bark
and the buds shall be stilled.
Word Count: 131 including title. Posted for Haibun Monday in Dverse Poets Pub. Haibun: a Japanese poetic form that includes prose followed by a haiku. Haibun frequently includes fugetsu (natural scenery) and kaketoba (use of words with double meaning). Sakura is the Japanese word for cherry blossoms and also used a woman’s name. Comforter can be a blanket or someone who comforts. Still life refers to a painting (as this photo almost is) and to dying. A Haibun should also include an eternal truth or a theme that can be understood by many. Photo Credit: copyright Kanzensakura all rights reserved – Used by permission. With apologies to Toni: I just went back and read your prompt and it indicates this is a quince blossom. I looked and immediate saw cherry blossoms!
Come meander with me,
a moon walk among scattered dreams
to explore the tantalizing.
Choose the light and join hands.
This shadow of mine shall disappear
as we climb out from the depths.
Secrets one and two shall be no more,
and we shall discover all we need
in that open space created by shared souls.
Our desires shall blend, one upon the other
like rose petals cling to their bursting bud
in the midst of a slow delightful rain song.
And we shall be two as one,
ready for Monday’s promise
this feeling, this exhilaration,
this passion called Love.
Motivated by Quickly’s Winter Doldrums: Create a list of titles – then be creative with them. Sunday’s Invitation includes titles from some of my very first poems (started writing poetry in February 2015) and are some of my very early posts (started site in March 2015). Meander, Moonwalk, Scattered Dreams, Tantalizing, Choose the Light, Shadow of Mine, From the Depths, Secrets One and Two, All We Need, Rain Song, Monday’s Promise.
Last night with you,
there were no eyes.
Touch consumed bodies
souls engaged
and life exploded
as we loved.
Entwined, enraptured,
engulfed in joy.
Lying still with heavy breath,
my lips rest on your shoulder
taste the sweet salt of love
soft puffs of air
you beside me
exhale, exhale
night quiet sounds
I smile, loving you
eyes close shut
lullaby of puffs
The kiss
mouth probes deep
like humming bird
seeks the nectar of life.
The touch
skin to skin
gentle dancing fingertips
massage, caress, progress to joy.
No words
guttural moans and gasps
penultimate vulnerability.
Oh Erotica, I succumb to thee.
My body smiles, hums and throbs
as it melds into his.
Word Press Writing 201 Final Day Prompts: the word “pleasure,“, sonnet (14 lines: stanzas of 4, 4, 3, and 3 lines — rhyming not required in contemporary sonnet), and apostrophe (speaker in poem addresses another person, a personified object or emotion). I’ve enjoyed the class!
Her face, my map, my guide
in this moment of charged silence.
I touch her eyes, feel cool wet lashes
sensation on my fingertips
questions in my heart.
Fingers move quickly to dampened cheeks
trace rivulets of silent tears.
Drops of fear or rejection or what?
Her lips purse together gently
in a bird-peck kiss upon my palm
press deeper, part slightly in a moan.
She leans in and I read her yes
hands grasp mine as we enter
this divine communion called love.
Thank you, God
for this gift of touch
for this woman who lies with me.
For joyful tears, now mine
from sightless orbs that see.
She loves me as I am.
Motivated by WP Writing 201 prompts: map, ode, metaphor
lillian the home poet 