Monday, December 30, 2013

The bridge

I build the bridge between
loving heart & logical mind
to reach the consent

the heart’s enlarged –
yet North and South
touch the clouds,
the sky,
the forehead…


The teacher appears
whenever the student
is ready.

Sometimes in disguise
he speaks
barbarian language.

I can’t get your tongue
woven soft dew drop
into slang.

Why heavens
divided whole
essence of soul
to segments?

Various lessons
we learn to combine
into one.

Until then
our wounds are open
to rough/ raw/ array...

Shared with Open Link Monday IGRT

Sunday, December 29, 2013


 Robert Hardgrave
by Robert Hardgrave

Thinking of
the map of chance
with strawberry tincture

Softly answered blast
mix of integral
in a tint of the eyes.

Read more at: Sunday Whirl



When I crossed
the territory
of the reveries,
a redemption
the naughty/ nights / knocked
to persuade/ upgrade
the extension…

Gloomy, they left
with no guess/ a clue / the keys, -
nobody fell for
the false / flickering / treat or tricks.

Read more at: Magpie Tales

Saturday, December 28, 2013

Back to your arms

    ~ variations ~
 you want me
to play back stage
a chord warning
on cue

crowd scene
warm alley
no benches, no stop,
no seat,
heavy  sand
feet hate flip-flops
lots along the bay,
gobies swim belly up
hydrogen sulfide
in the air…
back to your arms,
rooted in  squares,
along the streets
acacia trees…
                                   I lean back
to keep the promise
the hug/ hides/ holiness
no breath, panic attack

I want back to your arms…

Wednesday, December 25, 2013

An angel

Inspired by Three Word Wednesday

The song

 'Celestial Choir' by Christine E. Alfery
'Celestial Choir' by Christine E. Alfery

There are lots of them
who want to fly free
the mouths are moving steady

Sound chain


In her window
behind the blinds
the sounds are knocking.

The sounds are knocking
one by one, fast, faster
voices ask unclear.

Voices ask unclear
at this quiet day
accompanied by heater.

Accompanied by heater
as if in a rumbling train
she travels.

She travels
on the wave
memory of forks.

Memory of forks
dropping down lately
often mean a change.

Often mean a change
a little, a big
what range?

What range of
efforts to live the life
we dream about?

We dream about
the present
in front of us, now.

In front of us, now
make a step, say ‘hi’
live with intent.

Shared with Imaginary Garden with Real Toads

Tuesday, December 24, 2013

Healing hands


Listening to my hands…
invisible worms – a million
run through..

Healing manna – inhaled
worry free, warm
energy cycle

Hold, hold until done
swirling ki, sipping by cells
sigh, life unfolding…

Monday, December 23, 2013

The path


…when I’ve returned
too fast / fetched / the fuel
the body/ become/ boiling / bowl
to adjust

it took the hours
to iron the cramps,
a headache,
sore eyes,
weak muscles,
stiff joins,
numb thighs…
a contrast –

my earthy plane-
slow/ soughs / sighs,
angels surround,
assisting to surpass -
guiding / gliding / gracefully
through the path
to pick scattered gifts
I've lost / living / losing the light /
declining the will
I’ve brought to the life,
crossed by Libra scales

The voice


“I heard your voice…
even though  it wasn’t you…”
R. H. Mustard

Once I arrived
in a distant hall –
repeated voices,
open and closed

From a room
to the room
I walked,
trying to unlock
this random
the memory’s

I’ve recognized
the light,
the style,
the set of chairs,
taking apart,
to fly
over the heads,
the intent:
the hearts
near the hearth…

I/  heard / your / voice –
nothing new –
“turn the chair
to opposite side –
a different point
of view.”

Sunday, December 22, 2013

Maturity age

Madonna with the milk soup, 1510. Gerard David.  

While ripening fetus
sips/milk soup/splitted
in levels by means levers

I pulverize clear scent,
echoing scenery/I attend

I fly/follow/a shuttle
of intact/tactile/tiles
of clouds/new ceiling
spider clinging to…

yu. yu. yu. yay!

I listen…

                        by Brenda Warren

Read more at : Sunday Whirl, Magpie Tales

New Year verses

based on Russian jokes

With age
New Year
more often
and often
to our door

with sparkling
joyous occasion,
on floor.

The man
gets confused,
saying to kids:
“I’m Grandpa Frost”,
and pulling off
a hat and beard –
to the wife:
“I warm you fast”.

Combative Petrushka
calmed down, awaits
for the master command,
deprived by dominant scarlet,
drown over the blue and white.

Man’s sluggish thoughts
drifting on facet
between new and old:
“Oh, every year I’m
buying new costume,
and sleep on the go.

So maybe this time
I will order a mattress
lifestyle representing,
resilient and fit
for the bed.

The Snow girl,
young and sober,
will drag me to home,
while Santa, oh Santa
 delivers   the presents

Read more at Three Word Wednesday

Wednesday, December 18, 2013

Wheel of Moon

Spinning your wheel,
oh, Moon,
I’ve been introduced
to many faces
and moods
I went through
the calendars
of visitors,
appeared and
in centuries’
buried the talents
and gifts of
past incarnation -

they might come
in the present lifetime
if I keep the seat
at merry- go-round

Oh, Moon,
will your guise,
so  swollen,
turn in the oval
if I disappear…

Shared with PU Verse First

Tuesday, December 17, 2013

Alice's sleeping

 Yuri Kalyuta painting
by Yuri Kalyuta

Alice – sleeping…
  The forms so airy…
    For grown ups
      the clothes
       haven’t been

Who’ll reconcile
  her consciousness
     with a size –
        so overgrown
           a chessboard,-
              big dreams
                     closed eyes.

Saturday, December 14, 2013

A kiss of a snowflake

Andy the Snowman grew up in the center of the lake, when the cottony blanket of first snow has attracted like magnet all nearby children to play, to skate, and build the Snowman.
Then Andy has learned that solitude of white can be rewarding.
Surrounded by dancing snowflakes, he felt happy, as if chosen.
And indeed, the smile has never left his face.

Staring forward with his eyes-buttons, Andy wished for even more friends. One day he noticed the light in a house not so far from the lake. Many-many kids hopped around a big decorated pine tree. Blue, red, yellow, green lights were reflecting in their eyes.
Since that day a longing for something untried has settled in his appeared not so cold heart…

Once, lulled by the wind, dreaming quietly, while kids have been attending a school, Andy hasn't noticed a Red Cardinal landed close, on the icy bench.
At first moment his drill-like voice pierced Snowman’s open mind under cute beret. But by focusing he has heard: “…I am instructed to transmit the Invitation”, - with these words the Cardinal unveiled the mighty wing, lifted with winning gesture the chin and read sacred tattoo. –

 “We like your happy expression. The positive vibes uplift all who see you. Submit your participation in New Year party. And your dream might come true,”

– the mysterious bird finished reading, looking expectantly at Andy.
-         But how? – The Cardinal majestically leaned toward Snowman,covering with magic script…

Andy hasn’t remembered exactly how it happened. He has found himself standing inside of this very house he looked at!... by decorated pine tree and with highlighted signature smile,…but now no snowflake can kiss him to submit his Snow nature.

With the long look of eyes-buttons he’s staring in the window. And dreaming… 

Friday, December 13, 2013

The swards of night

 Jennifer MacNeill photography
by Jennifer MacNeill

I’m skinless before you
with sticking out
arrogant ego,
squeezed in etheric half
a cup of coffee.

You drink this whole truth
of reality – us -
the blues among blue
of the sea and clouds.

I slice subtle piece
of five
dimensional face –
no time, no taste - unable
to erase the soul essence.

I string in a garland
expressions, modes -
roller-coaster of unknown
when nobody home
guts upside down… 

Tuesday, December 10, 2013

Winter nudge

minnesota. cbslocal. com

December slip-throw
sleet into slit
of my sanity

the old tires  - in a trunk
the notches are low,
though weight is fine
for balance show

it saved me while turned
as a dancing car/cow,
pursuing the will,
crouched in a line

‘whenever you go –
take your time’, -
radio 88.5 fm says, -
‘but better – stay home…’
winter calamity. 

Shared with d'Verse Open Link Night

Sunday, December 8, 2013

Pre Play

photo from The Guardian, Eyewitness, courtesy of Tess K. 

In what currency I’d cash
the taste of sphere…

Seagulls desperate shrieks
cries out being released
from the prison of
dreary yet sickening
cloak of Jeopardy,
risked to become
a cruel wild croak
in the pursuit
to skirt
the goodies…

in Venus lenses
I flow,

                     Brenda Warren

Read more at: Magpie Tales, Sunday Whirl

Shared with Poetry Pantry

Thursday, December 5, 2013

Globe-all style

My mono style - the ignorance
as if no Ki to enter
a sanctuary,
an igloo,
or spin around equator…

What if I wrap meridians
across the parallels,
through the nadis
into my body's cells…

with magnitude of love,
infinite and diverse
for Gaia  gift,
the better place,
where whole world converse.

More poems read at : D'Verse:Form for All, Imaginary gardens with real toads

Wednesday, December 4, 2013

Fairy Tale

“Fairy tale – a  lie, but there- allusion…”
A.S. Pushkin

Her present life kept the traces of old, the ancient one.
Once rewarded, - brought to highest level of achievement –
a human life.

From brief meeting you would never say there is something wrong -smiley face, nimble manners, and witty brain.

Then, little by little, when you become familiar with the way of life, the house exposes every time a new clue: a statue, a photo, a fishy food, and finally – a stocking with a paw…

Insisted on a month of vocation by the ocean, one day she escapes to satisfy her nostalgia…

More stories: Three Word Wednesday

Sunday, December 1, 2013

Life beneath...

At the night
among all
the dark
of strangers-

knights stand up
as the statues:
feet -
at shoulders'

arms are crossed,
hats all broad-
        brimmed right,
        faces- hidden
        in the shadows

of rough secrets,
a sacrament
in a grot
among rocks,

of castle...
of wine

scarlet red
in lead crystal,
sparks in the
quivery hand

begs me taste
to exchange
the persuit
of the fate
on a Groal Vase…

flash: Is it Ball
at the Woland's?
almost queen
I refuse
cheeky offer,

shocked, I honor
my sanity,
on this side of
the scene,

where the scenery,
a plot –
just the guess,
what the life like

I remember
this dream...
how far is
a grot…

Read more poems: d'Verse Open Link Night

In crisis

wings: Magpie Tales

My plight’
trouncing wing…
word ‘thanks’
trickling down
to meet
the fire -

here, at the border
the forces leave me,
and I stand alone in-
sigh/t –

the road issued free…

Brenda Warren

Read more : Sunday Whirl, The Magpie Tale

Shared with PU: Poetry Pantry