Namrah, Figment of Childhood

Oh why have you deserted me these nights,
your golden wings and glistening silver beak?
We soared through star lit skies to mystic sites
my Namrah, childhood friend, to me unique.

Adulthood now, so taxed by tasks each day
the years have sped, imagination dulled.
My dreams are doors no more, no passage way,
no you. But stress instead, and nightmares mulled.

Oh why have you deserted me these years?
Is there another child who claimed your dreams
whilst I, within the dark, doth shed my tears
for youthful innocence and moonbeam gleams.

As wrinkles steep and footsteps slow my gait,
I see the light in death’s dawn – tis there you wait.

bird_of_paradise_kagaya

Written for dVerse MTB where Bjorn hosts and asks us to write a sonnet. Sonnets can take a number of forms. I’ve chosen a Shakespearean Sonnet: 14 lines with the following rhyme scheme in iambic pentameter: ABAB, CDCD, EFEF, GG.  I find this form extremely difficult and find myself counting out syllables etc on my fingers. So this is my go at it. A Shakespeare I’m not! PS:  Over the years I’ve written a number of poems about Namrah. Many folks have childhood imaginary friends. I did not – but I’ve created Namrah in a number of poems, speaking in the first person, as if this beautiful mythcal bird is just that. 

Empathy

What if I became you?
A three-letter being instead of a one.
Not won but lost.
In your shoes with one lost sole.
A lost soul.

What if you became them?
A four-letter being instead of a three.
Not a one. Never won.
You as them. Not allowed in.
On the other side.

Outside, like them.
The other’s side.
Not here. Never here.
What if you were them?
You, an other.

statue-of-liberty-in-tears2-0

Merril opens the new year at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. She asks us to consider time and space and what if. Her prompt: “What if you – or someone else – or some THING else – took that less or more-traveled path? Would it make a difference? Will it make a difference?  Look backward, forward, inside, and out. Then wonder, what if?” Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Stop by and begin your 2019 by imbibing some words today!

Raise a Glass . . .

Drawn to a metaphoric life-style
she sparkled and effervesced
through a bubblicious youth,
toast of the town.
Aged now,
she sits beside her Christmas tree,
mulls over memories.
Clutches sachets of anisee seed,
crushed cinammon sticks,
ground cloves and citrus peel.
Low heat radiates
as embers die nearby.

 

boiled-1380146_1920

Amaya hosts Tuesday Poetics at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. She asks us to think about secret ingredients…be they in a recipe or a poem. “Think subtle but noticeable.”

Raise a Glass talks about life in metaphors….from the champagne-like effervescence of youth; to the earthy sweetness of old life, like a mulled wine, commonly known in Scandinavia as GLØGG and in Germany as GLUHWEIN/glow wine.

Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Come join us!

Love Unwrapped

There is vulnerability
in unconditional love.
Sensual giving,
baring our souls.
We commune
in tonight’s passion
and tomorrow’s mundane.
We are,
as love is.

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Anmol (HA) is guest hosting at dVerse today, the virtual pub for poets. He asks us to explore desire and sexuality in poetry – and to write about desire and identity. Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time…come join us!

Ode to a Restless Knight

Insomnia,
thou art my bedfellow.
You joust to slay my sleep,
pummel me with dire near-dozing dreams.

I succumb,
not to rest, but to rise instead.
Darkness turns light,
switch slapped by frustrated hand.

Insomnia,
thou art the victor
and I,
your bleary-eyed spoils.

night-2090192_1920

I’m hosting Quadrille Monday at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. The prompt word is “spoil” – or any form of the word. Quadrille: a poem of exactly 44 words, sans title. Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time – come join us! Image from Pixabay.com

Wish Goddess

Wish Granter,
goddess of ages.
Utopia, her realm.

. . . if I could travel in time
. . . bring him back
make me young again . . .
. . . let her be well

Wish upon wish upon wish
year upon year upon year,
until she finally understood.

Hour glass, her tool of destiny.
Sand granules within,
moments in time.
What was, what is,
what may be.

Today, a crack in time.
Crystal orb wrought asunder,
sand grains burst forth.
Wish halos given light,
scattered among the stars.
All wishes granted.
From days gone by,
today’s dreams
and yours tomorrow.
Present eternally.

Wish Granter,
goddess of ages,
finally at rest.
Need erased for all time.
Alpha and omega.
finis

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Amaya hosts Tuesday’s Poetics at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. Today she asks us to consider the idea of utopia. Image from pixabay.com

Todays Create Tomorrows. . .

Words matter,
sly winks silence not.
Words hurled into sea of humanity
ripple inhumanity.
Build waves tumultuously
till tsunami destroys.

Words matter,
crowds riled to group-think.
Vitriolic spittled slogans,
us-them denigration.
Barbed words
create the wire.

This era,
tomorrow’s ancient script.
Our ever-living shame.

hammer-682767_1920

De hosts Monday’s Quadrille at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. Today’s prompt word is “wink.” A quadrille is a poem of exactly 44 words, sans title. Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Come join us!  

Window on Her World

Inside, she looks out.
Seasons change
confined within her pane.

Stripped by cruel winds,
branches clatter
nodes exposed.

Charles River, ribbon slight,
below low slung sky,
scene through barren trees.

Relieved, she slowly smiles,
espies her Charles again.
Silent vow worms her mind.

Before spring reblooms in pane
I shall join you, sweet Charles,
an afterworld away.

house-2616494_1920

Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets, on Open Link Night. 
Photo from Pixabay.com

 

Hope

Once upon a glimmer,
hope lived.
Moonbeam wisps
and dandelion puffs.
Dew drops on lily pads
and snowflake glisten
on frosted pane.
We watched.
We loved.
We waited.
Hope glimmered
in our evening prayers.

Ali - Dandelion

I’m hosting Tuesday Poetics at dVerse today, the virtual pub for poets. The prompt is to begin a poem with Once upon a ?????   Writers may add any word except “time.”  So I’ve chosen Once upon a glimmer. Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Come join us!

Her Leaving Time

She’d been left behind by her son and husband many years before. Left to grow old without them. Legally blind. Too much effort to live. Too many pills to remember each morning. Each night.

Now, this cold autumn afternoon, lying in a hospital bed, she simply said Lillian, I’m tired. And I knew. I bent down, leaned close to her ear and whispered. I told her it was all right. Find the light, mom. They’re waiting for you. And she suddenly sat up and smiled. Eyes bright. A broad big smile. And then she flopped back and lay still. The kind male nurse who’d been at her side looked across the bedside at me. He simply nodded. And I nodded back.

golden amber leaves
blow off trees, hit closed windows
nature’s death displayed

Haibun written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. Today Merril is our guest pub tender and asks us to write about a transition. A haibun is two or three short succinct paragraphs of prose (must be true) followed by a haiku that, in the traditional sense, contains a kigo (reference to a season).