Monday, March 31, 2014

Setting the stage

wallpaperhi.com

The day’s last block fell of the wall
kept murals in the frames with closed door

as if a harmonica song – so simple motif
the soul heard its voice – authentic, believe

no returning to sea behind
no colliding/collapsing  the clouds
to make rain/tears entertaining party
to forget the wounds

just follow ahead – eyes cling for numbers
words’ compilation, new content,
dynamic of faces, comments,
heart’s feeling humble

the flares on sun, energy surge
brown tabby cat climbed up high
on my strained right shoulder
a leap with urge
I’m accepting – not controlling the life. 

Sunday, March 30, 2014

Conquest

The image - courtesy of Tess Kincaid  'The Mag' 

The plan was to accept everything in one pack. Who knew the mending could take a time…
The winning growl echoed in the heaven, burst the roofs of a team.
The rows of healed have been replenished.
Shivering, the bloody root was extracted.
The wisdom of knowing, of ‘why’ has settled in the heart.

Sunday Whirl by Brenda Warren

Read more at: Sunday Whirl, Magpie Tales

Shared with PU Poetry Pantry

Friday, March 28, 2014

Surrendering

rassouli.com

“Surrendering to unknown
becomes another complete cycle.”
E. Rinaldi

I've left the loop of dead end routine
just to land to another unknown path
seemed to be temporary
for while,
but within it demanded a recoil
and self-sacrifice

the rewards were etheric
I felt at the higher level
where no words, visions, fights –
just Love
in well-tempered clavier style
with O-mm mantra & mudra poses
supported inner peace,
the mission and purpose.

'A teacher may appear in disguise',-
the Hermit card advised…

Sunday, March 23, 2014

Express train

'My Bed' by Tracey Emin 

The rumpled bedding, have enveloped the vibrational emotions for so long, naturally started to shift in a strata.
Every afternoon, when the sun reached its high point above the near tree, the room and its belongings have been dissolving in sunbeams.
It was no need to make a bed.
Solar flares were changing frequencies. X-class flares have increased for the last 3 months, and had impact on emotions.
Every evening, when things returned back, she wrote the affirmations and put them under the pillow, drank plenty of water, crawled in the bed, and got dropped in the 5D sleep…
…She created her thoughts. Choices-rivals like kids were playing in different rooms, showing off their toys. On the door of one auditorium there was a warning sign: ground course… ‘May I come in?’ Nobody responded. Invisible hand pushed her in…

…She found herself at home. Sitting at the edge of bed, she has groped the quarter in the pocket. Slowly turned in the hand, the girl brought it up to cover the broken skin at her forehead. Carefully pressed, squeezed lips, pronounced blunt sound ‘p’ ,(as the grandpa would say, smiled), - she released the sting.

 The sounds of shower and rain blended in the meditative mode.Fresh addition, the suitcase patiently waited, learning against the visible today bed.
New life beckoned from the window, accelerating every grid of space. If we only paid attention…  

wordle 153 by Brenda Warren


Read more at: Sunday Whirl, Magpie Tales 

Drifting thoughts

media: pastels
   
   Traveling through
   the hazy twilight zone
   of Logic
   it would be nice
   to watch drifting thoughts
   taking shapes
   bossa nova rhythm waves
   transforming bad guys
   in good vibes
   adding a slur
   to connect the mouth brims
   cosmic mass
   so easy to twist
   the chaos and death
   into binding light
   of life and love,
   in each corner
   of Universe.


Shared with Open Link Monday, Imaginary Garden with Real Toads

Thursday, March 20, 2014

Sketch

patternity.org

The coal shines in your hair
the happy innocent smile
hosts the anfas

focused on dripping icicles
fast, faster
traces on glass
day spills into cars

red, yellow, green light
power off
parking
good night.

Footprints

etsy.com

I follow the little footprints
the bird’s trial to sky
skipping, not flying

Wading into tomorrow
assumed role becomes a tool
a step in unknown

World through the prism
of fearless heart
worth to live in.

   

Wednesday, March 19, 2014

Informal thing

I enlist to honoring Spring on March 20th
on the Vernal Equinox,
while the fresh snow arrived,  4’’
 delivered to Minnesota,
this white revelation,
the color of my solitude…

 I got up before time to shovel
(no snow phobia)
to honor the winter of my dreams,
the right to enjoy
the warm part of year
with traffic, with only one road
(another – closed, dead end)
to get somewhere
the repair season gradually started
while snow delays.

 I celebrate the authentic birth of snow
in the cool air of North.


















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

Monday, March 17, 2014

Excerpt

Feast in the House of Simon, 1610, El Greco 

Let green wicker basket
a bottle of homemade wine
yields to thoughtful talk
not plupped yet  guests.

The fallen asleep city
misses untying the strips
of dusty centuries
with slick manners;
the mystery, locked                                           
in the tower of
hidden geometry.

A small apple of discord
hasn't been squeezed.
The light of beholder is cloaked.
All fuss  - later.
                        
Wordle 152 ~ a baker's dozen by Brenda Warren

Saturday, March 15, 2014

Sonata

New dawn. New day. New entry chance.
When dreams embrace the heads so tight
It's hard to see what - wrong, what – right.

Sun climbs up high to watch balance
Contrast between the sky and earth,
And humans stretching in the pause.

Hark, wind, mischievous child at glance
Inflates the clouds like balloons
The heaven hear cry of loons.

When whistling – makes the clouds dance
Migrating, they attract the bird
Who fly away to verge of world.

Wind drives the pensive tree in trance
Disheveled, for the smugly eye
Sun never be the same in sky.
                                ~ ~ ~
New dawn. New day. New entry chance.
Sun climbs up high to watch balance
Hark, wind, mischievous child at glance
When whistling – makes the clouds dance
Wind drives the pensive tree in trance.


Read more at: Sunday Form Challenge: Constanza

Thursday, March 13, 2014

Prelude


This special hand
the  fingers- along all worries,
heals any nodes the life full of

my lap
burning
desires
holding the barriers
in the etheric dance…

This special hand
so distantly close
I’ve never touched.


Wednesday, March 12, 2014

In-haven book

abstract.desktopnexus.com

Some foresight we can find
in the prologue
the certificate of birth

Is it helps to prolong life?

The gen code of crossing stars
in-haven book
listed as karma

Smug clan feud
witnessed souls' devotion
two indulgent hearts.


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

Tuesday, March 11, 2014

Bubble Love


    I've got twisted within letters-poles

  O reminded the window
  I thought I can crawl  in and out
  as I thirst .

  E winked at me periodically
  encouraged to draw the whole eye
  not a half of an apple.

  V teased, every time I felt high
  next sec – slided down
  with a potential to rise up again.

  L just laughed hysterically
  showing the thumb up
  to all my efforts.

Sunday, March 9, 2014

What lies beneath

Lee Plaza Hotel, Detroit, photo by Bonnie Beechler 


Nothing  pleased the eye. Life has intruded as unwelcomed artist, corrected the content of apparently conservative atmosphere.

The polyglot parrot swallowed overdose of calcium, - left bare walls and hearts, flew in unknown direction.
The curious visitors, the pigeons, imprinted their questions into the floor in black and white.
The ceiling silently watched the happening with swollen from frequent tantrums eyes.

It has been two weeks since a poltergeist started the storm. Light corks flew regularly at the end of the day, crossing the area with anomalous phenomena…

New residents’ furniture was stacked in the living room, blocking the window and balcony door.


The plants, have grown in the favorable soil, were uprooted.

'What Lies Beneath' by Vandy Massey


Read more at: Magpie Tales

Saturday, March 8, 2014

A platter

 'After the Journey' by Ed Smith
'After the Journey' by Ed Smith

    Wash in and out with psychic tides
    Disperse the seeds in the storm of
    high altitudes.

    Unbuttoned possibilities
    metamorphoses
    O, flying fish or bird-reboots.

    Who ordered the platter
    a motley paradise
    the sea/sky swap the poles & hues.

    Impossible to stay on either side
    while mingle –outstretched arm
    in cue.

    Don’t miss the catch,
    the row trips to celebrate
    with cotton sun.

    Where under every leave we creep
    the bursting jelly-moons –
    a ton.

wordle 151


Read more at: Sunday Whirl

Friday, March 7, 2014

Open box

 Chilean artist Edwin Rojas
by Chilean artist Edwin Rojas

She was a worry free
a bird,
who boldly dropped
her  feathers off

to show the world
creative side
her smoothly curved
feminine insight

the world regarded
such a gift
to hide in a box
as exquisite

the world has ruled
for all to obey
and open a box in April
on the Earth Day. 

Manifesto

photo by me






Why I write

The fingers wander feverishly for extensions
stretching to decima – not enough,
the pensive soul accepts no refreshment,
played on the background so long half/half.

To run thru the keyboard-to discover
the thorns and the roses,
the joy, revelation while writhing in pain,
to dare to touch the stone of Moses,
don’t let soul sail get dissolved in a vain.

What threatens my writing life…

I nervous and gripping the pen
so then I’m not screaming
and shake in despair,
life steps on the heels
required pay bills
and this is what threaten
my writing passion…

Why I will continue to write against all odds…

I am into chasing the word
the English word sounds so cool to my ears
remember the time listening a song
but not understanding the lyrics…

We travel prolonged path
developing, nourish the spirit
so who will judge/blame us
when we learn to trust
our feelings and walk off a pier…

Read more at: d'Verse Meeting The Bar

Wednesday, March 5, 2014

Fractal view

 Abstract Orderism Fractal
Abstract Orderism Fractal by Stolyarov 

Decrepit body
unique and credible
her pensive soul

Sunday, March 2, 2014

Unchained

The Sleeping Gypsy, 1897, by Henry Rousseau 

In the wind/chant mode
the vagabond gypsy
the spirit flouncing

pocks the mandolin strings,
peeks in the vessel
with vivifying quaff

turned in the mighty lion
ubiquitous two-moon-eyes
to find holy Grail…

Peep. Alarm. On the roll
insatiable day ‘dong’
so blurry the fairy tale.



Read more at: Magpie Tales

Shared with PU Poetry Pantry

Double

wallpaperbod.com


There is a fuel for every cage
we’re locked from assault
thyself

to become invisible –
the badge: guess,
where am I ?

The trigger to stereo-type
the desire
to fit

sixth sense sends no mercy,
the shadow zone
lit.

The list goes on and on
with reasons to hide
from light.

Can YOU stand
with grace and ease
original tall and bright?

by Brenda Warren