Cattails in the wind

A predictable sequence of events

life

Were often asked to walk this line...
...well in the direction it is going,
of course.

This line is drawn
with much resistance and disappointment,
as we are governed by the cyclicality of our inescapable
humanness.

It is often the humanness subconsciously
guiding us to cry to nature and wonder
by rivers that overflow with confusion.
Many measure the length of our strait legs,
while others notice the strait cattails bending in the wind



Inspired by "line", a prompt on Weekend Wordsmith

Photo by donsutherland1 on flickr.com

Blue sprouts

Humidity lurks at the surface

of thirsty pupils and suddenly

dives,

piercing,

slicing,

pouring

when blue buds
magically sprout

and then shoot
towards the powder blue sky

as magic dust does
from fairy wands

when a fairy demands romance
in a thunderstorm


Image by Peggy Collins at Flickr.com

Thanks Sara from Poets Who Blog

Thanks for featuring my poem, Eyes for the stars, in your fabulous January Poetry Collection

Winter rain

January 11, minutes before 2AM. The room is a shallow blue with areas of deep violet.My eyes dive and rise in the flickering street lights making reflections in the mirror on the opposite wall.

The sky rumbles. The radiator gurgles loudly in response. I can almost make out words. Is it English? No, definitely Russian. I whisper: yes.. come in

Rushing rain, there is a winter waterfall outside my window dragging loose pebbles. Tap, tap, tick. This room is a closed shell with pearl interiors.

A mermaid attempts to hibernate, but lies sleeplessly clutching dried starfish. In the ceiling I see the dark uncertainty of the deepest sea.

Photo by -Antoine- on flickr