Confession

I look in your face,

and see the gray stains

against a blue…

You open up,

and I’m dazzled

forever by radiance…

Could I survive

when your fiery lips

touching a  forehead?

And I run and I run

and I run to escape

in the chilled

green house

of yesterday,

as if never coveted

you... .

Yet every day

waking up

in the warmth -

grateful

for knowing

the gate...

Read more: d'Verse Meeting the Bar: Conceit

Neighbors

wallwuzz.com

The red glass
scattered 
around
my parking
spot -
taken -
crowdy? – no,
just because
it's more
comfy to throw
someone's car
closer to
entrance door,
not first time-
complain? - why?
we all share
the space,
in flock
we survive...

Read more poem: PU: Verse First: Walk in Gratitude

En bateau

Autumn on the River, 1889, John Singer Sargent 

It was her choice

regardless of virtue…

All suffering gathered

of gap between

habits and cycle

of dreams -

undo in the sleep

to lessen the pain

adrift,

cozy cocooned

in a brown,

Violet open for

straight-from-the-tube-look

of brother, the tides of Autumn…

                                                       Brenda Warren


Read more poems: Magpie Tales, Sunday Whirl

The calendar

play.google.com

In my calendar

days collide with days

in a kaleidoscope style,

parted with mirrors.

When I reach

the end of the week (fast!)

I barely recognize

the first day  (wee!) -

now it’s passed, past.

So for every day

I try to build

a design, a piece of puzzle,

a code to memorize it

for future reference.

I catch my thoughts

all planned:

encounters, applications…

I feel in control, accountable,

safe, secured my burden,

surrendered to the calendar

before

I escape in black hole

of my subconscious

mezzanine,

and only a cup of coffee

found under piano or

glasses -  in freezer

tell me it’s time

for earthy check in…

Read more poems: d'Verse Poetics , Poetry Pantry PU

Finger drill ode

a drawing by me

Who said, who knew

they have to move

independently,

one by one, curved,

being in charge

of the keys,

remembering

a special spot

on the top of

 black and

white

with ease;

and names,

given to face

a position,

a sequence number.

Bent, they could be

a bridge between

two little strangers:

the short - Mr. Thumb,

the thin – Mr. Pinky;

playing

‘Hide & Seek’ game –

nobody wins, when

the bridge rises up,

showing 'Okay'

for All the fingers…

Before. they. held. only. a pen.

Submitted for d'Verse: Form for All

Contact

a photo by me , edited in Picasa

The feline sniffs my hand, peering intently, as if reading lines of palm.

Sighing approvingly, perching right on two sides, and I'm drowning ...

drowning in olive sea of devilish eyes, lulling my vigilance;

swaying, shrinking to fit in between black stripes space –

a little note- me

in fuzzy fur latte named Whisky;

clinging for big secure black buoy of eye.

The feline sniffs my hand,

peering intently,

as if reading lines of palm.

Sighing approvingly,

perching right on

two sides,

and I'm drowning ...

drowning in olive sea

of devilish eyes,

lulling my vigilance;

swaying, shrinking

to fit in between

black stripes space –

a little note- me

in fuzzy fur latte

named Whisky;

clinging for big secure

black buoy of eye.

Read more:  Poets United: Verse First

The sign

my drawing + Picasa

    Close. A bitter taste.

    The sorcery of healing.

    The legend of nine tailed fox.

    The sign of fortune pace

    Holds tight, concealing,

    Manipulative voice entraps.

Read more:  Three Word Wednesday, Words Count With Mama Zen

Canterbury race

a drawing by me

The lanky jockey checked the reins, tightened enough to hold Mack’s temper; jumped into the saddle.

”8 in a game.  Race №3.  Festival of champions Day. In here racing…”, – the voice of announcer listed all of his friends.

As from lighted match the slides of cherished days flashed in his head.

Mack remembered how horses frolicked together on the huge meadow, leaping over the puddles after summer rain. Once jogging he and Sun Country had wandered in the marsh. And Mack pushed her with shoulder to safety.

That day everyone has been demonstrating favorite gaits. Choices were different, but respected by all. Then, how it happened that friends become strangers? These  joyful field trips were forbidden once and forever.

“Leading Mack’s Tiger Paw, next CJ, Mama’s Boy and Sugar Business, couple links behind Quote Cash, Sun Country.

Anxious, Mack’s Tiger Paw got reasonably settled down by Ms. Lee.

CJ, Mama’s Boy are trying to overtake him.

Mack slips in other gear and says ‘No’. Sun Country tried to outstrip, but turned away. And he’s gone. Absolute domination by Mack’s Tiger Paw!”

Isolated yet befuddled, Mack’s Tiger Paw was in a pain. Dipped in his murky thoughts, he hasn’t noticed Sun Country stopped by. Just felt accelerated breath and warm mouth on his ‘settled down’ shoulder.

Brenda Warren

Read more stories at Sunday Whirl

Shared with d'Verse OpenLinkNight

Piano for shorty

                                                                           wallike.com

At the polished bench

by the grand piano

a pile of books

on the top half-sitting

cowering,- embryo pose-

a little girl, student-novice

squeezing the middle c,

sticking out short fingers she -

but a squirrel found acorn.

Little girl, sit tall,

flap the arms-wings

feel free

play a-b-c  

Shared with Poet United

Illusion

picstopin.com

Illusion is first

the pleasures tend to fool us

near a horizon

Illusion – technique

to materialize the

emptiness; a death

Illusion – freedom,

ultimate weapon in use,

a shred of the truth.

Read more stories : Theme Thursday, d'Verse Meeting the bar: American Sentences

The flow

by hdwallpaperstop.com

…we build the sand castle

in sand of the time…

it’s fragile-

the  old wind whistles

chime sweeper song-

listen

the heightened wave

washes a shore,

brsssssss…

brushes the shells,

scales – galore!

Don’t ever let

aggressive storm

to ruin, to limit

the flow of

unconditional love…

Read more stories/poem: Three Word Wednesday: aggressive, Heighten, Limited

Premise

by designrfix.com

When I incarnate again –

embrace me, embrace me

the longest way

you may...

pray,

whispering affirmation,

savoring forth,

filling the breathing

through pores

with multi-hued shadows

coloration,

so when I later

fly away,

throwing

bursting crystals

beneath, -

turning to wave,

you will see

beautiful

sun flared

Phoenix…

Shared with Open Link Monday

The gesture

Danseuse ajustant sa bretelle, 1895-96, Edgar Degas 

Adjusting the strap

is a pain for the dancer,

sweat yet tense,

diligently squatting

in tight tutu pas,

to restore the balance

excused from the class.

Luckily a stranger

entered the stage

with old camera,

said, he’s artist

his age? –

not so important,

he’s ready to help,

but first –

wants her to pose

for study of ballet girls –

a photo sketch

before the portrait.

Read more poems at Magpie Tales

‘buckle up’ is no more an infringement on personal freedom and dignity

"Poets_corner" by Mike Worrall

“We ride the white noise as a horse.”

E. Rinaldi

You instantly spiraled my world

no buckled up,

drilled inside/out of my beliefs,

the sacred knowledge I’ve gained,

even unknown one yet to me,

navigated, you trickily licked,

absorbed interlude during

a theater intermission, the moment

entwined between open/closed doors

to the opera house

as your vision of my humanity

not yet vanished from

yesterday grace…

I counterpoint guessing

what the next dish

will satisfy our insanity,

when we take strides

along the years of humming

while a soul starving for fetish

of New…

Brenda Warren

Read more poems: Sunday Whirl, Sunday Challenge: Featuring Mike Worrall

Living in the moment

living in the moment is all about living like there's no tomorrow

living in the moment is the state of total absorption psychologists call flow, where I found myself, when forgot to close the window; it was the song

'living in the moment' is the first and only ep by metalcore band across five districts in the city,

living in the moment, not expecting to know what the future holds...for me

living in the moment was a choice

living in the moment is one thing; taking action is another

living in the moment is something I've had trouble with for a while, after becoming an insider

living in the moment is impossible,- I thought after overheard the 'men talk' ,considered 

'living in the moment is about having a young bride and receiving all the extras that come along with 

living in the moment... one's greatest gift,' - it struck me

 living in the moment is really the answer?- I wondered in airport and got it:

'living in the moment is highly not recommended due to limited parking spaces and congestion, subscribe to david mitchell ? http' - url of website was erased, and I slowed down...

living in the moment is to smile, - I learned much later, but practice every day.

read more d'Verse Form for All: Googlism

Say 'Cheese'

‘Cheese’ …

your lips

show,

teasing me

thoroughly

with

the smile.

I always

strive

to increase

this

‘ protein’

in my life…

And if

the smile-

cheesy,

I think:

what

went wrong?

But

anyway,

too serious

I can’t

stay

too long.

Play with us! Theme Thursday

Bodies become the landscape

            Everything flows,

          everything changes…

                          Heraclitus

A river’s flowing from a distance

tortuous line on the map

loosely belting  the earth.

A river’s laving stones/bones,

collecting DNA codes

a crystallizing salt.

A river’s flowing along the trenches,

amplifying undone criticized

thoughts, deeds, debts…

under the bridges of spines

sipping the moaning water

since the cradle of humankind-

bodies become the landscape…

A river’s flowing through me,

and I know for sure:

found in future the artifact pile,

will prove to  offspring –

we were…we walked at the earth,

we were alive.

Image credit: walpaperup.com

Inspired by: PU Verse First: The Body Becomes The Landscape

Three Word Wednesday: amplify, criticize, moan

Poetry Jam: What Do You Know For Sure

Imaginary Garden with reaL toads: Get listed with Ed Pilolla

Swirling along the path...

Resurrection-reunion-2 by Stanley Spencer

I dared to walk behind the veil,

following your infinite shadow.

I saw everyone simultaneously on

one huge mountain meadow.

Waiting for the last day of creation,

they all – together, separated by fate,

the purpose of life haven’t embraced,

while traveled on Earth - have gone astray.

Moved by strong invisible impulse,

kneeled down -fists hit the chest,

whispered the passionate words of repentance,

grateful for a chance to rebirth at the quest.

Moving in dance's precise rhythm,

they waved white handkerchief - catalyst,

sacred voice from distance emitted,

filling the souls with hope and bliss.

                                   Brenda Warren

For more stories click  Magpie Tales & Sunday Whirl

The pieces of me

A piece of me – always follows

suggested straight strategic line,

even if there is an ice-hole.

A piece of me – staying at home

in warmth, kitten curled,

when my obedient part

leaving for work.

A piece of me – never here at all,

soaring somewhere over the chores,

knows though the way back,

and when - to anchor.

A piece of me – still on the playground

riding the carousel of anticipation,

when ride’s completed – she’s expecting

to be placed on the real life project.

See, - I’m never the whole,

so if you, by chance, look in my eyes,-

you risk to land in one of my properties,

with  days equal  nights, equalizer like,

for I’m trying to stop

eternal swaying of seconds - ropes,

with little luck I travel on -

I hop…

Artistic Interpretations with Margaret - "Maria Wulf's Visual Poems"