The grain with a rain

flickrhivemind.net

Rain scratches the vertical

white lines of darkness

in neighboring window

across my room.

What after all they can hide

behind the curtains of wet

wooden/glass frame..., soon

they lower the blinds, won’t see

more the dark soggy night, and I

stay single with music and tree

Bonsai.

I slowly approach piano,

glissando every&each key,

the sky presents the glint

of lightning !!!

What level/phase/time

the players are we?..

Brenda Warren

Read more at: Sunday Whirl

Cathartic talk

'Catharsis' by Ashim Sagor

                                     

"…I’m wistful for my kin of the spirit”

                                  Ezra Pounds

We're trying to connect

throwing/launching the anchor,

mooring to a harbor.

Closer. Louder. Risky

thoughts touch the sand,

smell a seaweed…

Hark! Seagull cry…

The peace in jeopardy.

Half-word…half-breeze…

Broken link.  Silence.

Go ponder. Whole world

between,

Universe of feelings

separates, match,

mingling: “It’s me, hi!”

Feels/thinks right –

We …

the bank of promises

where love - arrested,

with the highest motive

in wistful eyes.

Read more at: 

Three Words Wednesday,

Imaginary garden with real toads, 

PU Mid-Week Motif

Small influences

Sweet Summer, 1912, John William Waterhouse 

Drawn to dark part of the garden

praying the Merlin Tarot

to bring a transformation

I disappear under the water spell…

Parts, defragmented

dancing in swirl

seduce the past

hell out of me

deep ~ deeper ~ …

the creature has a gun,

we talk:

“Where has you been

the last year?

The source of your

nourishment –

a dreadful kiss?!”

….

Oh, enough, not a plague…

the penny would cover

the bloody expenses…

I levitate…

~ ~ ~ ∞~ ~ ~         

                          

Brenda Warren

Read more at: Sunday whirl, Magpie Tales

Exposed

wallsave.com

The hiding becomes exposed

a little box of well-being…

Ah, not easy

skin thinner-bleed when pulled

the world leans/seeps into pores

with millions buzzing words and sounds…

Ah, not easy

to keep telling your story no matter what

multiple tongues move out of sync

dragon like heads - each whine is yours…

Ah, not easy

trust them all, make happy, now

‘Simply hire’ alerts the dream/passion

with the ‘expiration date’  required…

Read more at: PU Mid-Week Motif

Not to be reproduced

Not To Be Reproduced, 1937, Rene Magritte 

We assume lots. I’d share.

You keep questions/answers

to yourself.

Only me. Trapped in old fashioned

manner. Surrealism. I float in a

guard free stream.

All dressed up. No face. It’s within.

Ears-shells. A key into - whisper…

Hair-waves reflecting sunbeams.

In reality I’m still not sure:

will I sailing…

Gordon Pym. Whaling Harbor.

Sailboat Ariel. Ocean breeze.

Or – just sit at the bay,

read adventurous story

by Edgar Allan Poe

deeply peering in dreams.

Read more at: Magpie Tales

A wish

Visit antiquehelper.com

They are like porcelain, aligned

same pose, expressions, a wave of hand

with lyre one in a graceful stand

another sits in Yoga style.

Their eyes drink sun shine from the sky

the will of fortune keeps off split

above adversity, woes’ pit

in meditation spirits fly…

Ascending to the cliff sign R.I.P.

the wind drilled/whispered in the air

a wish for a habit ‘do not fear’

trust 6^th sense, let the heart to flit.

                         

by Brenda Warren

Read more at: Imaginary garden with real toads, Sunday Whirl

Universal truth

artist Guido Vedovato

My life folded in

an accordion style

the black and white keys

I touch arbitrarily

inspired those ears

and fingers to boost

with every blue dream

I’m trying to hover.

The clouds grew grapes

the mountains – sharp

and pavement turns

in M&M colors

but someone who gawks

from the distance  - will see

my life nested in

a thimble size chapeau.

Read more: Imaginary garden with real toads 

Fixed ideas

Photo by 'Sandcastle Matt'

I saw you as if metamorphosis

lower part - me, top - yours

lifting the pebbles, shells,

crabs’ claws

building the castle of

self imprisonment.

I've watched it forceless to stop,

heard your say:

what the talents we hide…

Really…who said

it must be from stone,

while

the better ideas - from sand…

Shared with PU Poetry Pantry

The crisis

Art by Michael Chesley Johnson

At the righteous judgment

at the point of no return,

we emit the gripe of insight

reached no goal,

but a beautiful nothing

receiving at gate

yet in a rounded frame

with number 13

a memorial

the message from angels

…..

you were beating around the bush

dragging your feet

creating the reason to stay longer

at the party

delaying the death

your only real stall of truth

in the material world.

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

Resistance

Magpie Tales ~ courtesy of Tess Kincaid 

Reel to reel

left to right

rewinding hemispheres

changing directions

moving

playing mind games

to resist  stagnation.

The tapestry of memories

woven in white, silver, red

counted all in-outs.

Did you work that day

or just swipe the

existence card?

Numbers on tapes

coded in machine

languages

muffled by time

compressed in

sizzle/single/size

file

stomping/stuck

in the place

stored the power

of ‘Hello world!’

‘Look ma, no hands’

These moments’ strokes!

In-tro-spec-tion…

Gently maneuvering

back and forth

hover

the black/white

beliefs

tenderly touch

the truth:

you're being

transformed.

Brenda Warren ~ Sunday Whirl

Read more at: Sunday Whirl, Magpie Tales

The courage

flickr.com

Old times. The war.The drama. 
Economic challenge.

Who grumbled having not enough

has found stimuli and thrill

in optimistic marching circus
a parade ale.

The bond,

the painless entertainment

to distract -

woke up and freed

the soul,

brought a courage,

the taste for arts.

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

Valerian

Magpie Tales image

Wrapped into pink wrinkles

flash polish bridge

falls

where Atlantis gave up

Calm feisty thirst

broken glass

pores/stuck/straw

drinks

a transparent

jelly ice cues

sharp

tongue quest

transmuted

peace

Read more at: Magpie Tales

Launch

flabber.nl

No horoscope

Card reading

Enough

I feel

my path

emerging

s l o w l y

through

rainy

pass

erasing

all errors

from past

I shift outside

after rain

the scent

propels

all previous

starts

A terrain

is paved

with countless

fields

open for

jovial

sturdy

feet

I chase

the vibrant

fluids

of air

The sky

leans

toward

me.

                 Brenda Warren

Read more at: Sunday Whirl