Saturday, December 27, 2014


"Fisher-woman" by Odilon Redon 1900

Who we are
meant to be next year
new clothing
to try on naked body,
touch the destiny.


 Natalia Kadish
Kodesh Spiritual Surrealism by Natalia Kadish

It arrives
in jingle bells
to heart’s sigh
hosting the
angels’ hide
in mirror
of perfection,
a temple
for those in
pure love,
bearing a
fruit of spirit
through scars -
to ingest,
to transform
life’s carnal way
in burning bush,
to turn the stray one
in a holy/kodesh.

by Brenda Warren

Read more at: Sunday Whirl

Sunday, December 21, 2014


Fluidity takes its power
Body empowered
Re-think, re-treat, re-born.

Rusty hinges worn
No naivety, naughty
or good stagger
by the gate of

Sweat burn panic
on the threshold
thousands of raindrops

always simultaneously
perform high,
sorted out
the choices,
alliances’ help

the eyes roam
on the verge of

by Brenda Warren

Read more at: Sunday Whirl

Shared with d'Verse OLN

Saturday, December 20, 2014

Here's music between trees

Art by Peter Holme III ~

Here’s music between trees
in group but loners,    
each with hologram
of images

observers, hover over
road of hopes;
winter darkened,
no snow

rocks & boulders,
cracked ground,
dipped in the mud
the cars.

Sounds  mingle
reaching trees,
absorbing carbon

breathe! - healing
Needle Jingle Rock
returning back
with  glee.

Shared with PU Poetry Pantry

Friday, December 19, 2014


 Art by Joan ~

I recognize
the messenger 
you sent       
to point the land
of Salvation, to laud
where black necked swans
query in agape love
the discernment
sky/sea curve
of savior island,
the palms
open invite/offering
bread/salt and
pixelated in
sailing sun
fest of water…
I build the ladder to myself,
white in long vail, light
beckoning ,
the piece missing
I am.


Thursday, December 18, 2014


In the return approach
I worry if cedar/fir/pines,     
whose aroma defusing my days,
let me go...
arms stretched before
to welcome –
now drop in silence
to comprehend…
the urge to spread
the roots to the south
waters to match
the vibrant talk of tides
with murmur of heart.

Sunday, December 14, 2014


photograph by Robert Doisneau

my head
has been thru all
of life

lunatic, my soul
space crafted
endeavor per endeavor
to spread the synergy
to save loser tangled
planets’ treads
so angels could safely 
return home in peace…

Sunday Whirl~ by Brenda Warren

Read more at: Sunday Whirl, Magpie Tales

Friday, December 12, 2014

A miracle

“The day demands only a key”
E. Montale

When asked “what do you want?”
I shake the wings grown tired
of routine routs riding
in cascade of nesting issues
serving dear to heart souls.

I shake the wings in a case
the miracle stuck to
the magnet they've become
loving the work they do.

The miracle sometimes slips
through fingers holding invisible
stones of decoys and debris
detoxifying the Earth.

When found it looks like plain keys
red rose plate pendant attached
to bring the love where you
use them…

Shared with PU Poetry Pantry

Thursday, December 11, 2014


Sneaky shadow flashed through
the side of left cheek.
Bare and black
what the business
keeps in air full of strength
molecule particles,
the pixels of flux
still visible
monochrome form...

came in the light to touch
dusty walls, photos, plates,
swards of past times,
competitions, meetings with
friends and petitions
to commit and join,
fetishes of joy,

piano used to played ecossaises,
unsteady sounds hanging
in wooden ceiling
hidden in plight,
and occasional spiders
stumble there, cobweb
chords dripping on the keys
scattered around in the
living space of room
and veranda…

Wednesday, December 10, 2014

The hum of evening thins away *


When sunset arches above the ‘feels big’ things,
 worn-down blunt edges touching the ground,
yet distant to make all equal, to converse
the keys and passwords to hue memory,
to fold and save in carved earthy womb
where petals in the flowerbed so satisfied of gifts
received, uncurled/nurtured by bugs so treasured
and guard the giving…

When sunset arches…
I feel the breath
Of night.

The life gets lethargic, drunk of itself, vanished
to be born again in dawn dress with roses bushes,
fast perky promises of longer days, pensive nights of
bittersweet tears and cues, missing words of love
required from others, but resisted to follow through
by us.

* Eugenio Montale "The Occasions" ~ used one of the poetry line

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

Tuesday, December 9, 2014

Winter blues

The winter comes again
the old girlfriend
so arrogant and cold

the snow swans pack
is winging in the sky,
my head in blues...

the sounds promising
and gaily snow flaking
the reindeer song of

the summer flirty
flicker fall at frosty
bottom of heart well...

the pensive artist
painted with whimsy
laces thoughtlessly

so neatly covered 
the memory of
fairy telling days...

Inspired by  d'Verse: Winter Blues

Sunday, December 7, 2014


Full moon rise on dark twilight sky ~

Drinking the velvet of
evergreen pines
the pupils of eyes
become dilated.

Zero - zest temperature.
Striking, blinded,
drifting - I've gone

Gemini full moon -
buzz of adventure.
Think: premonition ...
Success. Love. Romance.

Ascending  moon
threw a shawl
woven in the stars
on shoulders of
meadows in hue.

Failed to feign
in down to earth
of getting somewhere.
I’ve already arrived.'

Friday, December 5, 2014

A bustle

We’re returning home
crispy snow crackles
under the feet,
voices mingle.

The whole day of touching
with someone’s heart,
credulous necks

Holding the door open
for insights and issues,
loop back for granules
of sense,

and reason
our next entree
to sprinkle the magic spree
to find the solace
in distraction

Anthropometry of Earth…

Read more at: d'Verse Meeting the Bar ~  Jargon, Buzzwords and Management Speak

Shared with PU Poetry Pantry

Wednesday, December 3, 2014

Hands of eternity

“This slow turning of eyes 
now able to see…”
E. Montale

Two balls, flashing in darkness,
observing, absorbed, adapting
to see the contours of bodies
and edges swaying away,
blurry becomes the beginning
of studying…

So there we are tracing
each other dreams, convexity
compliments concavity,
and between – insulation-
whole possibilities, where
No swaps with Yes
yin & yang principles…

Transparent soul, jester
playing with two eye balls
in his hands of eternity,
standup comedian-
the one, we afraid of, - a clown
why? ’cause reminds our 
hidden longing…
laughing out loud [lol].

Read more at: Poetry Jam

Monday, December 1, 2014

Bond of Union

 M.C. Escher
Bond of Union, 1956, by M. C. Escher 

Etching an image into a smooth copper plate
intention to carve plane landscape with gouge,
linoleum cutter,
he loved bun-shaped roof and rocks, choosing
not architect, but art craft

printing and peeling others skins off,
exchanging the balls, brain rolls with breeze
vertical/horizontal metamorphosis,
climbing to mountains through labyrinths
to be able to touch his part of stars, bent of bond.

He gazed into maze – no time waste –
rattled through scattered corridors,
corrida of thoughts, interlocking forms,
snakes and ladders, gathering in plain
secular splendor of harvest union.

by Brenda Warren

Read more at: Sunday Whirl, Magpie Tales