The trial

“keep letting water steal soles

and keys to the poems”

E. Rinaldi

Day comes: you know

where you stuck

feel *take a breath*

fragmented heart

will show

where soul

lurking thru hole

in traveling bag

back in time

to find stolen smile

playing the slides

in the flower bed

of enlightenment.

I’m trying to run

leaving blue prints

poems behind

you can follow

wrong! this is mine…

my only way-

the sea shells aware

ocean will know

swallowing them

lo-vin-gly…

the trail of

milestones and falls.

By fire

Art by Redbubble

Neon colors meet the canvas’

torso

assembling interactive savor

assuming a banquet  galore

to ponder

to understand the play by

the fireplace of prolonged tales.

As long as your stamina

infectious-

the proper mood, well-toned

texture-

be aware of severe fever of soul:

prepare the floral bouquet .

Logs/wood moan in the fire,

restrain the goblins in

Trojan horse/body,

bleeding,

dying of desperation

a gene  of love.

Refused,

when guru in orb form

came in the view to

put out the flame,

spill rain,

prevent the desire

to master

the puzzle of One…

Neon colors meet the canvas’

torso

assembling interactive savor

assuming a banquet  galore

to ponder

to understand the play by

the fireplace of prolonged tales.

Vibrant, unburdened, darling

alerted, altered

throughout all vortexes

to carry in aura

nurtured in peace

with no war.

Read more at: d'Verse Poetic: Homophonic Translations

Stuffer

Starry Night by Alex Ruiz 

I forgot

to put the canvas on

the tripod

fortunately

the evening sky

with stars, constellations,

new moon

were on

the cliff

of my rickety mind

with half rifted

bones

in flight

longing for challenge

sustained

in meditative mode

the faces/baffles

of flowers

on the field

reflected

the moon.

-Aha!.. – I sighed,

immediately

slammed the eyes.-

Millions necks

turned to my side.

Smiling to absence

of a common

language and cart,

I realized being one

of them.

The flower,

under one big moon

with only difference:

I took it for granted…

For the first time

I started to see myself

in new light…

“People look like flower

at last” C. Bukowski 

by Brenda Warren

Read more at: Sunday Whirl, Magpie Tales

Shared with PU Poetry Pantry

Score

photo by Joel Robinson 

Bodiless

through

the heaven

to earth

used to

we flied-

the stars?

orbs?

our

contours

& lines

interfered.

Invisible

life

was engraved

in leaves -

the pattern,

motif

played

by wind

and trees

four

seasons.

Read more at: d'Verse Meeting the bar: Patterns of Life

Choice

Joel Robinson's photo

You said: “Nice to see you…”

The wobbles have run

prolonged and sparse-

a distortion occurred…

impulsive heart

assumed this farce

as a message of love…

swaying in a bubble,

cured old wounds,

resist

feeling morose…

a magnetic power of choice…

Read more at: PU Mid-Week Motif, d'Verse Poetics, Three Word Wednesday 

Triquain Remix

by Heartlover1717 via photopin cc

Daring

The fear of

being embarrassed once

stopped from expansion out of the zone.

Daring today toward your dreams creates the base.

You have plenty of time to add all

the bells and the whistles

later on.

Words

Words have weight

when the fiery Leo

meets the spontaneous Mercury.

Have courage to radically change the way you

 present yourself. The style can summon

chaos to cause, unleash

new power.

Read more at:  Sunday Mini challenge Imaginary gardens with real toads 

Grand

What demimonde

has the right

to judge

with candle on or off

the way I peel

the rind of oranges

as transgression of rites?

Despite the abomination

of isolation

I keep the allegiance

to the asylum

Gray

I see myself

reborn

in Africa.

by Brenda Warren

Read more at: Sunday Whirl

Shared with PU Poetry Pantry

Something

Dan Minix Art

Something

always

we're looking for

to fill us

to the fullest

so you decide

to give yourself

“me time” .

In the morning

when still alive

clear head

awoke early

a shower

some exercises

breakfast

don’t feel so stiff

you're lying down

on the high pillows

with neck dogbone

on the top 

to read

Charles Bukowski

“The Pleasures of the damned”

the poems of  51-93 yr.

Get amazed how he used

his pen/ a wand

to make something

of nothing

and everything

each speck of dust

(“if you run your finger

along the window ledge

you'll find dirt”)

plays  the role

and defines

the partake in life

(this dirt “maybe even earth”)

this day, the morning,

a weekend,

not end yet…

The world's preparing  

for rain…

Talk turkey

 photo by Cory Morse | MLive.com

She run her hand along the hair

to eradicate the squeamish images

of worrisome turkey at the safety island,

awaiting its turn to cross the road…

The truth sometimes - a mercenary

to whom we pay to stay an innocent… 

Read more at: Three Word Wednesday

Doomed

'The marriage of heaven and hell' by Keith Haring, 1985

The hand has reached the hand

to save and not to kill,

to sacrifice no limit love

for youngest grain,

to bend, to hand the ring of life

without a sound of complain

about a case, an awkward way

to fill the lane,complete

short path,

as it’s been seen by sacred eye

as a part of bigger plan,

brought him straight

to the deep water…

                      

by Brenda Warren

Read more at: Sunday Whirl, Magpie Tales

Permit

Expelled from the Garden of Eden by RachelPaintings~ Etsy

You said: let’s come back

to the garden

to enjoy the tree,

the apple, the snake,

being naïve…

we’re there,

but everything ‘ve changed:

a snake wears glasses,

a transparent skin,

earbuds, aged…

apples – so many brands,

each one wrapped in a rainbow

digital case,

to eat – find a code,

dial, submit and sign

that was used your permit.

to eat or not...?

Geometry

Superstitious ~ fidostudio~ Pinterest

In your eyes

sinus chasing cosinus

a serpentine way

pulls me in

to explore,

but I cling for

brows’  slurs

not sure, indecisive…

flickering allure;

 the safest place-

in the center-

face it,

created with

a basic purpose-                                       

to breath. Beneath-

two watermelon halves,

seedless, ripe

while  you share a smile,

the sweetness –

so lovely oval-

be framed,

not tamed

or exiled.

Shared with PU Poetry Pantry

Lust lasts until a lasso twirling

Elizabeth Taylor by Frank Worth, 1956  "Giant"

Don’t get irritated by the sound of disclosed door,

allow the bliss,

invite the triggers/signals to ignite an appetite,

even wear sunglasses to provoke a sun,

imagine flamboyant jumbled garden

with flowers and veggies,

‘cause this is a point -

re-tire the car,

lust lasts until a lasso twirling!

by Brenda Warren

Read more at: Sunday Whirl, Magpie Tales

Shared with PU Poetry Pantry

Lucky incentives

~ Dawn~by Wire Moon

Enroll your muse- hands over a heart-

and splash the Ki into ears and eyes.

Experience a breakthrough,

feel renewed and alive.

Prepare a chair to relax

but as in a farce – be aware-

you’ll find an empty spot

when turn – the time lapse.

Sustained stress prolongs the pain-

congealed body will not serve.

Revive a glistering wire-thought,

add a positive emotion

to heal an energy of planet Earth.

Read more at: Three Word Wednesday