Friday, 30 December 2011


the  pale blue evening sky inhales
excitement of ’s festive air 

orange red banners festoon the house,
brighter  than  the  night’s  starry  glow 

sparklers, blow horns, wine glasses,
sets the clock ticking closer to

the seconds leap from here  to tomorrow,
binding  our  embrace  checkered  tight

moments like these stitch our arms,
day and night, black and white, sun and moon

flickering  overhead  as   the  countdown  begins,
your lips bend close and savor my red wine lips

ever changing passage of new year’s cheer
still, never changing love on my tongue lingers


Tuesday, 27 December 2011

Changing room

I was munching on Christmas cookies,  
when the talented Mama Zen handed the personal challenge baton to me.  
Here is my response to her prompt:
if everything was different  

paint the day in lavender black
burnishing hair in purple night
bold as your lacquered nails,
tip tapping along window's edge 

close your dark crow eyes tight
imagining the room bare of clothes,
mirrors changing faces, and 
polished floor reflecting you, just you

for once

instead of spraying the walls all white
creamy and dazzling for other people, 
rearranging furniture, spotless clean
until you are a pale shadow lamp

that once wanted to burn
both ends of the yellow taper candle,
while replaying the short grainy film of
you, wrapped in your lover's rapture

the first

in black and white frames, 
the yearning in your bosom stirs,
churning your belly’s gut sideways,

you rip away maple leafed wallpaper,  
tilt the domed ceiling closer to Pacific sky,
lie on native bamboo bed, unspooled,

if everything was different, 

i want to live


Author's Note:   Posted for Imaginary Garden with Real Toads :  Personal Challenge.
MZ gave me a wide berth to tackle this challenge.  To help me make it more concrete, I used metaphors, colours and contrasts, tools I have learned over the past months.   
Shared with my wonderful friends at D'verse Poets Pub:   OpenLinkNight - every Tuesday at 3pm EST.   

picture credit:  here

Thursday, 22 December 2011

Gift of us

silence of the morning
finds our limbs in restful embrace
i breathe in your warmth
lingering of night's silvery ride

white dawn slowly glimmers
shading corners dusky light
wool blanket wraps tight our
pink memories and purple hued journey

here, now
my pale lips seek your kiss
calming beat of roaring sea
grateful for us

Happy Holidays to all my readers and friends !!!

Posted for Theme Thursday:     Prompt is Gift  
Flash Fiction Friday:   For the G-Man :   Tell a story in 55 words.   

Shared with The Gooseberry Garden:  Forgiveness, Gift, Holiday Songs and Traditions

Thank you to Romantic Friday Writers for selecting me as Featured Writer for my post:

picture credit:   here

Tuesday, 20 December 2011


the day awakens to snowflakes falling
thick socks  and woolen sweaters bury my liking
hockey and curling fun, and snow sleighing
sipping an iced pina colada in my bikini ruby
i'd rather be, sandy beach and sun tanning 
until the winter wind blows by 

Posted for:   D'Verse Poets Pub - OpenLinkNight - every Tuesday at 3pm EST.
Poetry form:   Burns Stanza   - Imaginary Garden with Real Toads.   In this form, Robert Burns makes the first three lines rhyme with the fifth. The fourth and sixth lines become the second rhyming pair.

Also Shared with The Gooseberry Garden:   Prompt is Snow, December, Winter Vacations and Wildness 

picture credit:  here

Friday, 16 December 2011

Christmas star

the winter of content
drapes her thin shoulders
as she prepares their late dinner
sprinkling pepper on casserole
warming kitchen fire, 
she hums a christmas song

the days are shorter now,
folding under bed of snow
slumbering nights envelops
house in mellowed lantern sky
frosted windows peek ceiling of
red bells, cones and festive boughs

paring small potatoes and carrots
she muses on months past,  

when he got his pink slip from
his work, and she too lost her job.
with a sigh, she gathers vegetable
stirring them in the boiling soup.

outside, the cold breeze stings his face.
finding work in the factory has been 

a tasteless mutton on his plate, but mounting 
bills must be paid, so he toils and waits
for the clock to sigh it was time to go.   

gathering thick coat, he trudges his truck 
through the slippery road, a long journey home.  

lighting the advent candles, she rearranges
home baked cookies, cheese, ham and fruits in
season’s platter.   a luxury in these hard times,

but she insisted on a nice dinner, specially 
christmas eve.  her hands linger on the table linen,
as she waits for her husband to arrive home.

the old brick house glitters in purple night
white dust swirling, he opens the front door

shrugging off the day's bitterness from his voice,   
he calls out a hearty greeting, "I'm home."
the aroma of home cooked food welcomes
and warms his ice numbed hands. 

taking off his woolen scarf, he embraces her,
saying, "I have a surprise for you."   

laughing she extends her hands in excitement  

he places a brown box wrapped in red ribbons near
pine decorated tree.   he looks at her, his heart racing

her eyes are shining, radiant bright 
as she peels away paper tissues 
to hold the classic books she always wanted to read.

her long hair is gone, skin pale from
chemo sessions, and frail from weight loss.   
but her fierce spirit radiates, and 
so does hope... fluttering, sparkling in his chest.

she is still the brightest star in his life

Posted for Romantic Friday Writers:   Challenge is Sparkle - Word limit:  400.  
Happy Holidays and thanks for the visit.

Update:   Thank you to Romantic Friday Writers for choosing me as Featured Writer for this post.

Thursday, 15 December 2011

This Christmas

this Christmas
draw silk curtains close
blow off the apple scented candles
untie blue velvet ribbons
unwrap all my gifts
whilst the music plays our
favorite holiday songs

bring down the golden star
from pine scented tree, under
red plump berries and evergreen holly
kiss my chocolate dusted lips,  
tinder the chimney hearth    
this Christmas

Posted for Flash Fiction Friday:   Tell a story in 55 words - for the G-man.  Just a fun write from me about the holiday.    Also posted for Poets United:   The Thursday Think Tank:   
Thanks for the visit ~ 

picture credit:  here

Tuesday, 13 December 2011

Just you and me

The green painted tree is lighted up
Gold and silver trimmings skirted around
Red and blue balls strung in festive dance

Bright greeting cards hanged in the wall
The cone crusted holly placed atop the alcove 
Holiday tunes crooning in the background

The red huge socks by the chimney bricks
Eagerly awaits for your fill of goodies,  
As I did write to you I have been a good girl

I wipe away chocolate crumbles on my chin, 
And traces of milk around my pale lips
My holiday wish list is really short this year

Just you and me, in front of the warm fireplace

I really need to tell you, I have grown up  

Author's Note:   Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - OpenLinkNight - doors open every Tuesday at 3 pm EST.   My saddest Christmas came when my youngest child said she didn't believe in Santa anymore.   Now I am relieved she knows it is the spirit of giving that matters most - and real conversations - the best gifts ~

Thanks for the visit ~

Picture credit:  here

Sunday, 11 December 2011


forget you, i want to
as winter sky curtains my windows

blurring lips, i want to
as spring flowers garnish my garden

fading lines, i want to
as summer ocean warms my feet

smudging mirrors, i want to 
as autumn leaves wither my pathway  

forget you, i still could not  
as winter sky drapes landscape anew 

all our photographs have now
faded into black and white frames,

shadows clinging to wood pine walls,   
wrapped tight in grey still memories, 

regrets, i have none 
though i still hover the window awning 

hoping for a glimpse of your brown cap, 

serene smile, i hope to find  
buried under red ink stains of your letters  

The Gooseberry Garden:   PhotosNostalgia, Memories, and Families,
Poetry Jam:   Past and Future

A peek at the family's album reveals a young solider who went to war and never returned. I am thankful for all those who serve and die for our country.   I hope they can come home and celebrate Christmas with their loved ones.  (I enjoy watching their surprise homecoming and reunion). 

picture credit:  here

Saturday, 10 December 2011

Black and blue

the full moon mocks
their bed of black silk flowers 

peach-split lips sigh,
thin patience in her reddish cheeks,

he had insisted his name
to be stitched in her coat sleeves,

even pillows in all the rooms,
their house looking more like his business card 

one fine monday morning, goodbye kiss,
turns to be just that, as he leaves for work

she takes out small luggage, removing 
gold wedding band, and place it atop their album

quilted memories of their years, laugher on edges
bring tears to her eyes; all lies now, 

fabric of unworthiness heavy on 
slender frame, she limps out the door

tired of his rosy promises,
her battered hands start the car, driving   

unknown destination, 
maybe back to her roots, 
certain of only one thing: 

her life back in her hands.

Author's Note:   Posted for Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Prompt is arrivals and departures and  D'verse Poets Pub:   Poetics, Fabric of our lives

Not my story but someone close to me.  

Picture credit:   here

Thursday, 8 December 2011


line drawn across
two squares, you in that spot,
me, on this side corner
with potted plant, small table
grey cubicles of busyness
surrounds us
like deserted islands,    
we toil through
serious business,  
walled hills of anonymity
unopened windows
until, you throw a
paper crane my head
laughing, I chase you 



unfettered sky

Posted for Flash Fiction Friday - For the G-Man.    Our office is full of cubicles; sometimes I don't even see my office mates until it is break time or time to go home.  Well, such is life....thanks for the visit ~      

picture credit:  here  

Monday, 5 December 2011

Wild beat

pale moon

bear me down gently
sea bed alight with copper sand
sinking stern
drowning salty spray our lips
wrapping  crescent  hips  arching

deep blue 


fierce sun

lift me up quickly
crimson mountain jutting teal sky
burning bow
as soft lips caress red silk skin
unfurling plump cheeks writhing

wild beat

Author's Note:   Poetry form is cameo, a purely syllabic form consisting of six lines with the following syllable count: 2, 5, 8, 3, 8, 7, 2.  Thanks Kerry, I had fun with this form ~

For the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - OpenLinkNight - Monday
and D'verse Poets Pub - OpenLinkNight - Tuesday  - Hosted by the lovely Natasha Head.

Picture credit:  here

Saturday, 3 December 2011

Wonder woman

am no warrior tiara princess 

hand to hand combat is not my style
no lasso of truth girths my tiny waist

much less, indestructible bracelets,
super human stamina, maybe when

i juggle cooking, cleaning, laundry,
while paying bills, taking care of hearth

i am no wonder woman poster

skimpy ambitions are not for me,
red-knee boots, perfect for shoveling snow

tactical warfare is not my wont,
cunning and confidence, smarter way to be

gifted tongue i save, to whisper words
praise and joy, brave and true voice

the woman of your wonder,
that I strive to be  

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub:  Poetics - We're going Comic hosted by Claudia Schoenfeld.

Comic Character:  Wonder Woman
picture credit:   here

Friday, 2 December 2011


close my bosom,
i hold you 
a new born star,
one summer eventide 

delicate petal hands,
wrinkled pink pearls
clutch my eager heart,
surely like day and night

weaving, i breathe in
your angelic faith, white 
as dewdrops on moon lilies
and i am humbled by your gift

a mother of beginnings, 
i want to be to you,
like warm river beds  
nuzzling green rice stalks

bluest deep, reddish blooms
my arms will cradle 
for you    

boundless joy  


Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Form for all and Poetry Jam:   Prompt is Deep

I nominate Steve King.

picture credit: here 

Thursday, 1 December 2011

Reality train

                  Doors close

                  Mad rush of commuters
                  Drone of train wheels
                  Listless faces,  
                  Muted headphones,
                  Newspapers screaming 
                  More job cuts  
                  Strange woman's laughter,
                  Bewailings of The End is Coming
                  Not even Christmas ads  
                  Can brighten steel walls
                  Of cold shoulders
                  As reality grips,  
                  I try to remember
                  Your wild honey kiss
                  On my lips

                  Doors open

Posted for Imaginary Garden with Real Toads and Flash Fiction Friday :  Tell a Story in 55 words.  For the G-man.  
This post was brought about by my subway ride to Toronto City this morning.   A cold winter day this 1st of December.   

Thanks for the visit.

Picture credit:  here