The Journey

The Prompt of What's Going On is journey.

I wrote several poems with this title and I recycle here one of the very first poems I ever wrote
This one is from 2007

The Journey

I went on a journey and stopped in Paris,
Taking time to cherish
the splendid statues of yesterday.
I stayed to learn French,
and when I got lost in a dark allée,
I uttered, “Où se trouve…?”
and they showed me the way
to the Eiffel Tower,
with its enchanting lights.

I went on a journey
and stopped in Madeira,
an island in full bloom.
Taking time to smell the perfume
and let the colours caress my eyes.
I stayed with a gardener
who taught me about the bees,
who turn gold dust
into sunlight I can eat

I went on a journey
and stopped in Amsterdam,
taking time for the shops along the canal.
When spitting turned into sun showers,
I bought an umbrella with Vincent’s sunflowers.
It provided shelter for an old lady to her home,
where she wanted me to stay.
She fed me with wisdom
and fine food for the day.

“I will make that journey. In a five-star hotel I stay.
In three days, I’ll go the same way, but then better,”
she said to me on the phone.
She got lost in a dark allée in Paris,
stung by bees in Madeira, and soaked by the rain in Amsterdam.
Reaching your destiny takes time.

Life is simple

The prompt for the local poetry group was Public speech 
The prompt for Poets and storytellers United was to be inspired by a dead tree

So naturally my dead tree is giving a TED talk 😂

The poem is linked to  DVerse Poets
OpenLinkNight #408 

                              

Life Is Simple
TED Talk by a dead tree

He drops his last dead leaf,
gnarled fingers unclenching,
scraping his ancient throat.

He looks at the audience.
Humans
Restless
Scrolling

Then he begins
Stop, people
Just stop

I have watched you for centuries.
You pass me
like weather through bone
heads down,
hearts elsewhere.

Meanwhile,
my tangled roots
prepare for the coming spring.
Flowers rise
from my rotten bark.

Life breathes
through my hollow skeleton
every single day.

So stop.
Inhale the oxygen
I have spent my whole life exhaling.

Everything is entangled.
You are not separate from this dance.
Connect.

The sky remembers you.
The earth will carry you.
Life is simple.

The shape of power

 The prompt for What's going on? is Power

The shape of power

What if you lift the twilight veil
and let your heartstrings unfurl
Release performance
release the fear
of not being seen

Remember:
a flame forgets its light
when it chases the wind

Step back
Sit with your breath
Let life move
through your emptied being
like sunrays do
They don’t ask
they don’t take
they simply touch

Feel how they bend
how they find their way
to warm you,
to illuminate you

Your flame will spill its light
further than you imagine

This is your way of being
This is your power, my friend

The man of action

The prompt for Poets and Storytellers united was to be inspired by quotes from The princes Bride. I chose "We are men of action, lies do not become us.”

The man of action

The man of action
holds a quiet refusal
to carry the world’s shadow.
He lifts light from water
as a mirror for others.
The reflection may waver
as life dances with reality,
but he waits,
knowing silence
will settle the troubled surface.

The law has a house
inside the man of action.
It stands in the shape
of fairness and justice,
a structure that does not fall.

The man of action
walks with vision.
He does not speak of horizons
he moves toward them.
And always,
lies do not become him.
He builds an altar to truth,
never burying it in roses.
It rises warm from the wet grass,
and droplets of trust
will clings to your heart.

Sit by the fire
with the man of action.
Watch the sparks
lift into the dark
And you
You only need to sit,
and breathe,
and let the light touch your face.

Dominoes of laughter

The prompt for Poets and storytellers united is Inappropriate laughter. This brought up some memories.

Dominoes of laughter

A dull day
math class
my friend whispers a word,
tiny, electric
I look at her,
a giggle
she looks at me
a spark jumps.

Then we crack open,
folding in half,
sucked up
into a rolling storm
of laughter.

Faces look up,
chairs creak.
The teacher’s mouth twitches
as it spreads like a virus.

dominoes falling,
four, eight, sixteen
until the whole room
is wheezing,
roaring with laughter,
rippling through
the building.

The teacher grabs
his life jacket
to stay afloat
“You two.
Principal. Now.”

after,
we walk the streets
delivering the school’s post.
still carrying
small sparks
in our pockets.

Paper Wings

 

A poem for Poets and Storytellers United written to the prompt "find inspiration on your bookshelf." 

Paper Wings

My books carry stories,
lifting me on paper wings
to faraway places
where forests hum,
where lakes hold mirrors,
where skies,
smartened with stars,
smile.

And places where wisdom
rests between covers.
I listen till their roots
thread through my mind,
waking me
to build new castles
of light.

In books of poetry
I wander metaphors,
waiting in the tide
until they pull me under
into a sea
of sparkling whispers
and love letter salt.

Titles tease,
tug,
time ticks,
until words find me,
leaping from shelves,
from hidden doors,
into my life.