A key

'Shapes from the past' by Mike Worrall

A leak within

Secret fairway-

I’m drifting.

The coral islet

electrical eel-

small switch

for open and

closed doors.

Affable ferryman

galvanizes

in blink.

We’re moving

adrift,

contented with

daily diet.

Silverware awaits,

expecting flesh

bit/bite/burger.

Rangy, prone

to roaming around

it arrives

through channels

invisible yet

breathing

in my neck

scent of

coming soon

spring.

Read more: Three Word Wednesday, Theme Thursday, PU: Mid-Week Motif, Imaginary gardens with real toads: Words Count with mama Zen , Personal Challenge #2 with Grace

Horses on strike

'The Mill' by Andrew Wyeth, 1964

How to numb a part of spring memory 

to enjoy the winter cool/ slip/ wind

-ness…

subtle snowflakes slide sequentially

yes, sky leaned…swish!

put on a spurt touring maestro

North West,

horsing thru slits into my restless soul,

milling around the big glassy eyes

houses facing each other-

seems, they always been white…

Squeaky wheels under the wagon

rush in the way, put before horse,

a cart, filled with snow instead of hay…

filled with love your heart…

Read more at: Magpie Tales

Chasing the shadows

Juggling old bones

to embrace the past of

countries and states,

different aspects of monad,

the missing strands –

unblock the sacred voice

from sustained doubts…

Oh, keepers of time,

I’d love to reveal

my past shyly plans,

the burden I carried

tip-toe between snakes

up to ladders

of levels and clans…

While chased the shadows

today’s disappeared,

got sucked in the

blueprint of time zone,

the sun is lapsing –

retired prompter,

completed his work,-

gone.

                                                                                                                 Brenda Warren

Read more at: Sunday Whirl, d'Verse Poetics: On the Other Hand

I saw you crying...

I saw you crying

in the blue

with eye wide open

to accept

the real life,

the bitter truth

about me,

my hasty step...

The tears

so helplessly

touched ground

in desperation

something change:

the seasons,

power taking,

wounds,

the feelings

suddenly emerged…

I saw the light

in every drop

before it lost

the shape

in swoon..-

the trees,

the chroniclers

recapped

the water path

on face of moon…

Shared with PU Poetry Pantry

Show up!

Source: www.zazzle.com

A mirror, I assume…

has a host, a ghost

and the guardian too.

A host with pomp invites

to visit the museum

of rare collections.

I probe within, tap/tips

the fingers of life,

left in the wrinkles.

The ghost of mirror

appears for moment

with malevolent smile.

Repulsive, he points

what it could be if…

I kept my style.

The guardian wipes

the mirror crystal clear -

I see a radiant self.

The host leans in bow,

says: ‘keep showing up’,

at distance - ghost's

dubious glance...

Read more at: PU Mid-Week Motif ~ Mirror,

Treee Word Wednesday

In the Rain

'Musician in the Rain' by Robert Doisneau 

World drowned in the fog.

No lights. No colors. Grey.

Though…spirits mingle,

ascended,

the masters of non-STOP-

able creation,

they capture changes

in the air

with single

raindrop.

Wet canvas come to live

on cue,

the distant train

picks up the p- a- c- e…

What city’s beckoning

in view?

What cast’s partaking

divine test?

The cloaks keep hearts

from humid stream,

the music trembles

on the edge,

disclosed by swelling

buds of dream, -

to all who trust

their own sage.

Read more at: Magpie Tales

Life cycle

Evergreen conifer mighty cedar easily sheds the snow 
from its downward-drooping limbs

while the child, cute in a cap, neglects the stillness,

enjoys the white lumps on the hardy shoulders,

playing with kids snowballs, wearing Christmas trinkets.

Old cedar sighs, conjures the spirits of the forest sent 
the curious Jay,followed/carried by East wind;  who has  
loved the welcoming twigs, hasn’t flied/bent too far from 
the nest, broke up the cone before the tree…

The parent twined/curled the roots around the child’s, 
backed him up,watching through the maturity time, and 
the cycle continues…

by Brenda Warren

Read more at: Sunday Whirl, d'Verse: Trees

Shared with PU: Poetry Pantry

Sight-reading

'Secret Rage' by Victoria Lenoire

Old patterns coming

to surface:

the rhythm creates

the grip to take for

while explore

the life,

no, not cutting knife,-

to throw, to discharge,-

but use as plunge

into unknown depth;

the harmony

of tides an ebbs,

where vibrant voices

woven in a choir,

but never sound

in unison;

the melody

inverses on 
every breath,

dare recognize

two alike patterns,

or decode new,

a gift to Universe.

Stars know:

you are sight-reading...

Shared with d'verse Open Link Night

Reminisce

She hides.

Wants to surprise

Under the snow

of privacy.

Spontaneously

unobstructed

nature prepares…

Will old yesterday

brown and grey

clothes

become nowadays

quintessence/

zest

if tuned in new

frequency…

The best-

look within,

adjust to

5D see/set

view.

Pause. Reminisce.

As days continue

Snow melts.

Shared with Open Link Monday Imaginary gardens with real toads

Metamorphosis

Twinkling snowflakes,

sun wipes

the window.

Wide smears

of mood/ weather

painting.

See. Hark. Thaw.

Slow motion

birds

practice

Philip Glass

‘Metamorphosis’.

It strokes me

with mock / muack(ing)

sounds –

a platitude?

Solitary 
winter plot,

a hint to soar

till the last

melodic 3rd…

Shared with d'Verse Open Link Night

Beholder

Phare de la Jument off the coast of Brittany by Jean Guichard

At the end of earth,

Finistere,

Where the waters boil,

swallow/the ships/with storm/

Man’s become an eye of

La Jument,

granite Light House ,-

saved/escaped/survived.

Hasn’t seen huge waves,

called by soul,

met the mighty challenge,

checked/the will/at work.

Stunned beholder froze,

Zoom! No waste! –

Enchanted keeper captured -

beauty/ on the edge/ of death.

Read more at Magpie Tales

Shared with PU Poetry Pantry

Necklace of Pearls

'Necklace of Pearls' by Elisabetta Trevisan

When my eyes

grow big,

filled with

water,

I flick/flip
the feet

into flow.

I see

the bottom

of creek,

lifeless pool,

impacted

by storm –

the pearls,

scents of

unknown

remote

scenes.

I follow

golden tale

on haunting

quest

along

the litter

of twisting

plants

to illuminate,

scrutinize

the ancient

path,

the price

have been

paid

for

abandoning

water

once…

by Brenda Warren

Read more at: Imaginary Garden with Real Toads: Sunday Feature Artist: Elisabetta Trevisan, 

Sunday Whirl

Overcast

Deborah Glessner 'Landscape Orb'

Motion sickness….

Why do I need

to spin?

I felt so cozy

in the cocoon

of soft/swell/spell,

but

essential overcast

has shielded

the glorious song,

the vortex

sucked

into strange

territory.

Hard lesson

to learn –

how to stop…

Read more at: Imagine garder with real toads: Artistic Interpreetation with Margaret: Orbs

Touching the base

Every time

I die,

while

reaching out

find your scales

empty.

Oh,

restless soul,

called

to serve,

forgetting,

numb

to personal

hum/song/setting!

Have you felt

my cheek,

snuggled to the heart

to fulfill

humankind's

priorities…

New balance

…stalking the shorelines

breath isolated

Northern

wind,

in your faithful power

to scrutinize,

to posses,

to build the window

to frame / frozen / flakes

in

side out to see

if someone pass by

accidentally

or maybe

land

New/ Snow /dirigible

in millions

back yards…

Read more at: Three Word Wednesday, PU: Mid-Week Motif

Yesterday

New York at night Vivienne Gucwa

I saw 2 sides

of the solitary moon

simultaneously

the bright part

svelte & stubborn

has been covered

by transparent quilt

of second one…

I wondered then

how is your prow

never fits wholly

its own harbor,

grasps mine…

Read more at: Magpie Tales