Friday, November 29, 2013


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 -
for knowing
the gate...

Read more: d'Verse Meeting the Bar: Conceit

Wednesday, November 27, 2013


The red glass
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

Sunday, November 24, 2013

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

cozy cocooned
in a brown,
Violet open for
of brother, the tides of Autumn…

                                                       Brenda Warren

Read more poems: Magpie Tales, Sunday Whirl

The calendar

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


I escape in black hole
of my subconscious
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

Thursday, November 21, 2013

Finger drill ode

a drawing by me

Who said, who knew
they have to move
one by one, curved,
being in charge
of the keys,
a special spot
on the top of
 black and
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;
‘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


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.

Wednesday, November 20, 2013

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

Sunday, November 17, 2013

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

Friday, November 15, 2013

Piano for shorty


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

Thursday, November 14, 2013


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

Wednesday, November 13, 2013

The flow


…we build the sand castle
in sand of the time…
it’s fragile-
the  old wind whistles
chime sweeper song-
the heightened wave
washes a shore,
brushes the shells,
scales – galore!
Don’t ever let
aggressive storm
to ruin, to limit
the flow of
unconditional love…

Tuesday, November 12, 2013



When I incarnate again –
embrace me, embrace me
the longest way
you may...
whispering affirmation,
savoring forth,
filling the breathing
through pores
with multi-hued shadows
so when I later
fly away,
bursting crystals
beneath, -
turning to wave,
you will see
sun flared

Shared with Open Link Monday

Sunday, November 10, 2013

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

 Mike Worrall
"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

Thursday, November 7, 2013

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.

Say 'Cheese'

‘Cheese’ …
your lips
teasing me
the smile.

I always
to increase
‘ protein’
in my life…

And if
the smile-
I think:
went wrong?

too serious
I can’t
too long.

Play with us! Theme Thursday

Wednesday, November 6, 2013

Bodies become the landscape

            Everything flows,
          everything changes…
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:

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

Monday, November 4, 2013

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

Friday, November 1, 2013

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"