Conversations the Other Day
An archive of scribblings.
Sunday, April 5, 2015
Mountains are lessons in patience.
***
Steep
but not unkind
a mountain
waits for me
eternal,
patient,
unfazed
by my fumbling
my missteps
scraping
against her
face
as I slipped
again
and again
trying to find
my way.
***
Shared on
Imaginary Garden with Real Toads: Tuesday Platform.
Wednesday, April 1, 2015
A hole in the fence is a gateway to adventure.
Someone has broken through the fence!
made a wormhole
into a restricted zone
-- a forest reserve to be kept
preserved from curious hikers
who only loved to walk
the soft native earth.
They'd brush aside thorny vines that catch them,
rush through blades of grass that cut them
just to find a way to get lost
in a patch they call 'nature',
to breathe in the green
and bathe their heads
under the golden sunbeams
falling through the canopy.
***
Wednesday, March 18, 2015
The dry season
***
close to the end of a dry season
i went to a park
sat on the grass
breath the warm breeze
that sweeps over the blue
reservoir waters, watch the waves
lap and overlap
i pulled out a notebook
and pen, trying to
catch all in words
onto an empty page that was glaringly
white
the words
were reluctant
having been quiet
left in the dark
for so long
i pressed the tip of the pen against
the paper
forced out lines that brought
more regret than reflection
Nature is simpler
an ant in the grass
so i began again:
an ant in the grass.
***
Saturday, February 21, 2015
A bullfrog in a storm drain
In channels clogged with compose
under the steel-fit manhole,
a bullfrog groans bass tone moans.
Caught in last night's downpour
while out on the garden lawn,
he went with the
water
-- because that's all he knows
from days of being a tadpole
before he grew legs
and things
got complicated --
went with the flow,
and all the leaves
that fell in heaps
went with him....
In channels clogged with compose
under the steel-fit manhole,
a stranded bullfrog longs
for another great rain storm.
***
A repost from 2012 NaPoWriMo.
Saturday, February 14, 2015
Nature takes back everything
Madras pea pumpkin vines entwine
a pair of rusty shopping carts;
rainwater collect in beer bottles
and cans; wild grass blankets
the ghost junction of railway lines
and wind-bent signs.
At dusk, sun rays throw shadows
through rows of paperbark trees
& just before receding,touch pieces
of broken sand glass, reflecting
lights :red :amber :green.
...
Tuesday, February 10, 2015
Maybe....
The meaning of Maybe
a peep of the sun
on the horizon
the clouds gather
so eager to greet
the day with her
that everything there
becomes grey.
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