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24 Sept: 2 Petals
I. Petals on the Wind (a Jueju-style poem) A single petal drifts across the stone,spring’s voice fading in the hush of moss.No hand has touched it, yet still it falls —just like a heart lets go, and is alone. II. Petals Fall Without Asking (a Ci-style lyrical poem) The scent still clings to the sleeve,though…
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23 Sept: dVerse Quadrille
Petals (a Quadrille in an Imagist poem form) Petals, arabesque and swaying.Petals, brimming as bright asa morning star. Petals soft as scented heaven.Petals’ sorrow plucked for joy. “Loves me-loves me not,” criedpetals on black-eyed, doom-dark eyes—petalled tongues whispering. Petals witheron the ground.Petals the scytheforgot. Written for dVerse Poets Quadrille (44-words) in an Imagist poem form. Some artwork…
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23 Sept: Sound of Ice
Sound of Ice Underfoot(In the style of Gushi Wuyan Poetry) Cold light strikes the fractures,Dragons dart across the ice.Steps slow, wind draws tight,Heart sinks with cracking cries. One snap splits a thousand hills,Ten thousand trace its path.The shattering is rarely fear —The ice singing to itself. Written for Poetic Blooming “The Sound of ___”. Some artwork is…
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23 Sept: A Six – The Book of 27
21 of 27: Mourngale – The Colour of Unbroken Song Mapping the Riverbed Winter had settled into the seams of the house that morning—our quarrel lost to the iron’s hiss, as I pressed three shirts, their cotton wrinkling like elephant skin under my restless, riverless hands. Life was steady, yes — he worked, I worked…
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22 Sept: Mourngale – The Liturgy
21 of 27 Liturgy of Mourngale: The Unbroken Sons I. The First NoteIt begins not as sound, but as silence outgrown—a wound too vast for quiet.This is not a cry;it is a hymn threaded through the ribs,a melody that remembers your namewhen you have forgotten your own. II. The Colour of Dusk-FeatherMourngale is the blue…
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22 Sept: MicroDosing 80µg
Wind cut through the trees not like a visitor, but a thief returning to the scene of the crime — carrying scents of wet earth; petrichor’s ghosts of rain; breath of graves. Leaves fell in a slow, silent surrender, moss drank from the dark, and the roots twisted in their sleep. Decay was not an…
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21 Sept: Mystical Sunday
An Old Hunger She watches the clouds —her grey wild horses.They snarl at rain,muscle the sky. A single flame wavers, left hand for memory,right hand for will.Intention.Intention.She pulls the darkest oneto her, andcalls it by name. Winter is long andits darkness is an old hunger, so she sits with it.Lets it drink from her tea.Lets…
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21 Sept: A Wuyan Poem
A Gushi Wuyan Style Poem Bend of the road ahead,shadows dissolve in air.One tree leans toward silence,clouds drift without return. The path forgets its start,grass leans against the wind.I walk, not asking where,only the sky replies. Note: this poem is written in the Wuyan (五言) style, an ancient form of Chinese verse. Wuyan literally means…
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20 Sept: dVerse Imagist
Black Waits (an imagist poem) Black window stares across the street.Black curtains hang, charcoal cloth.A child coughs.The mother hushes him —black sleeve across his mouth. Black rain shines.Even puddles reflect black —broken buildings,black coat flapping against wind. Black comes quiet:mail left unread,a room kept shut,a name swallowed whole. Some things root in blackness —moss in…
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20 Sept: Ten Things of Thankful
In no particular order: One of my dearest friends had TAVR surgery (heart valve replacement) — all went well, and she’s already back home. Thankful that it wasn’t our underground sewer drainage pipe that collapsed. My poor neighbour across the street. Diggers to arrive tomorrow to start work making a trench for access. Thankful that…
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