retrieval

how does one retrieve you

from wherever you have gone 

shall I serenade ballads

or sing sopranos

maybe you like opera

none of those are my talents

poetry is what is latent

I can't write similes

but seasonings of metaphors

can garnish it well

a few words from you

I can weave into my tapestry

thinking of it as embroidery-

(if you wish I can put numbers)

so help me retrieve you

fallen

your brush 

strokes in the paint

as translucent as skin, 

I observe

the facial expressions.

this planet

since we arrived here

holds all our secrets

no matter how much you try, 

the painting will not be an antidote

of your bloodied past

it would rather enhance your instinct

when your blade cut across bodies

"yet your engravings now project gratitude"

ripples

ripples in that lake
brush our shadows
sharp edges of rock
deflect light
moving sun melds
showing you and me
in throes of passion

"come feel my inner strength"

marked

I advanced into the graveyard
hang out behind granite markers,
wondered how something marks ones life,

I did not pander to my instincts
words invoked action-
I shuffled those around

things you wish you hadn't done.
so much time passed
before you knew the difference,

I looked back for flames
that I never believed in.

shifting with the winds

with utmost care
he rubbed the tarnished trophy
and summoned the ghosts.
he never expected to find his own mother 
in that mist of shadows- 
shifting with the wind 
which came out of nowhere. 
he reached out, 
shaking as he silently cried, 
to embrace that ghost, 
but he found no flesh nor blood nor bone, '
closing his eyes he swam back in time 
and reached home
in his mind, he saw his mother- 
thinking how she once she gathered her purse,
looked around, but did not see him. 
she sobbed and cried, where are you, my son?

"son and mother, lost from each other, 
unaware who is the ghost,
both silently crying into that trophy"

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Do visit One Stop Poetry, Magpie Tales and We Write Poems

glittering gloom

on a gloomy and windy day
I need an apprentice
(for what you may ask)
someone has to
paint stars in to the gloom, 
fill it with glitters;
rewind the wind
to let it flow above
so as to reach the sky
and make it peerless

"I will towel the ground,
let that stranger watch me,
little knowing he is my apprentice"

inferno

I was calm
amidst the hissing sound
"pardon me," said Tom T. Urkee,
my nearest neighbor,
"I could only save this journal."
"thanks, that is all I need,"
I said.

claustrophobia

the train enters that tunnel
I expect it to grab me
my ears ring with muffled sound

in dimmed light
shadows become apparitions when
the train enters that tunnel

coldness seeps into me
inaudible movement scares me
I expect it to grab me

daylight becomes night
each sound resonates
my ears ring with muffled sound
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A Cascade Poem is like this:
1st Stanza: line 1, line 2, line 3
2nd Stanza: line a, line b, repeat line 1
3rd Stanza: line c, line d, repeat line 2
4th Stanza: line e, line f, repeat line 3

intriguing walls

at midnight, I hear
a latch fall open
in an attic closet, and then
a profound silence

dark stucco of low clouds
clutch the sky

a branch falls into the street.

a snail travels up a tree-
a long happy journey.
a little water drips with delight

from a tap in the park nearby

I look at the changing walls

stories hidden there intrigue me

"reflections of such proportions 

are more important than sleep"

foregone and forgotten

night hour makes a mockery
of forgotten wisdom
resident death within life
is an ancient inevitability
(we forget that in the quest of immortality)
I pour divine wine
into a receptacle of floating waves
know this.... 
In my younger and more vulnerable years
I also gave my blood
which mingled with the earth

"violet of violence somehow fills the void"