Author: poetryfest

scatter across the skyline, like
loose dregs dancing
beyond birches, sugar maples,
red oaks, and white pines. The sky
blushes and settles into deep
indigo. The moon kisses sparkling
on the still lake surface.
Winged silhouettes flutter
like heartbeats. Spirits echo
from abandoned places. Memories billow
up into stardust. Their prayers
transcending smoke and mirrors.
Grief is a slow burn.

It’s in our gaze that I’ve
Sat wondering just how many lives
We spent exchanging clever quips
Until our wavelengths coalesced.
On each side of my pouty lips,
His thumb and fingers rest.

This pressed reminder shoves
The magnitude of being loved
By him right through my dimpled cheek
Where down my throat its weight steamrolls
The rough potholes past timelines wreaked
And stamps fate on my soul.

The evidence we’ve met
Is in the way our bodies sweat
Then settle seamlessly–gawking at
The primal pull between our cores.
We wrestle with the feeling that
We’ve both been here before.

So lay perfectly still,
And nestled cozily we will
Investigate by tracing thighs
And chests and breathing in our scents,
Finding clues within each other’s eyes
Of different lifetimes spent

Eternally returning to
Iterations of me and you–
With brand-new names and social groups–
That fall in love now, just like we did then,
All while our infinity loops
Again…again…again…

Cool breeze, warming sun
Mayflies break water for air
Curious bunnies learn how to love
People tread melting ice
Apple Blossom Season

Hot sky, stiff air
Lightning bugs blink after long days
Fat cats lie languid in sunbeams
People splash, take pleasure in shirking
Apple Picking Season

Crisp chill, steady glow
Spiders make homes between walls
Nervous robins seek earlier worms
People recede, discover fire again
Apple Bobbing Season

Bitter wind, unrelenting snow
Beetles are trapped in the sill
Deer dead, freezes to the ground
Person shivers alone
Rotting Apple Season

When I opened my umbrella that day on the beach –
It was really just a parasol, protection from the sun –
A swarm of white birds escaped from beneath it,
Darting away – but maybe it was my imagination.

And so I walked three miles that day, and the sand
Was like handfuls of crushed topaz beneath my feet.
Men had come and gone, but I was never so happy
As I was then, living near the ocean and near birds.

###

As the soft-spoken summer sun passed by,
The warm weather starts to wither,
Changing the moods around the trees and leaves.

When the sick sun leaves, and the morning moon takes over,
Like a mood ring, the leaves do change their cover.
Not knowing their fortune,
Like the magic crystal balls do,
The prophets—the know-it-all’s—tune.

Humming with the wind, the sound of the leaves sway.
A quick flutter comes by,
And all the fawn leaves fall.

Crumbled rocks in grass shaded by buildings
Uprooted by voles worming through its walls

walls drunk with wormwood, holes boring inside
weave winding root systems through the broken form

Systems once held within the firm, fumes bellow,
tolling lives, cards punch down, decades of resent

centuries of lives down under, ‘till recent.
When the grass cracked rocks slating buildings

Sirens blare, warning an upheaval of order
as the building exhausts its residents

Brandished winds exhume the waters to its side
Wrapping arms around the building’s face

Warping and creaking, rounding the edges
pulling beneath rising waves and heavy rain

leaden heavy walls push a rising pained groan
sound floats up, a siren’s song, sea’s reorder

I’m allergic to exercise—
You’d never catch me in a gym.
But I know it matters,
So I walk instead.

Morning sounds ideal,
But sleep is sacred.
My feet find the road
Whenever time allows.

At noon, the sun burns hottest,
Darkening my skin.
At first, I minded—
It didn’t look good in photos.
But now, I wear these tan lines
Like badges of honor.

In November, typhoons retreat,
And blue skies reign.
Clouds float like cushions,
Fluffs that could catch me if I fell.
I take trails I’ve never known,
Paths bordered by trees,
Grateful for this mountain city.

Flowers line the roadside,
And I walk until I reach
6,000 steps or more.
Once, I passed a view deck
Overlooking a cemetery—
Graves with roofs,
Others exposed, dirty white.
Pine trees frame the scene—
Not eerie, just quiet,
Another piece of the city’s story.

Further along, purple bougainvilleas bloom,
Their petals scattered on the ground.
I step; they crunch.
Stray cats cross my path—
Five or so each day.
Wary, but still they pose
At the shutter sound of my phone.

In alleys with narrow roads
And staircases that challenge my thighs,
Burning, I climb,
Grateful for the ache.

I even met a rooster
Who clucked proudly,
Matching my pace, step for step.
But its feet faltered,
And it let me go ahead.

Lush greens surround me,
A feast for the eyes.
Sunflowers, golden,
Blanket the hills in the distance.
Houses perched on hills,
Shabby but charming,
Rustic in their embrace of time.

When the walk tires me,
I stop by a café,
Playing with a pug
Who calls the place home,
Its bark soft as a whisper.

On the way back,
I bid farewell to sunflowers,
Promising to return tomorrow.
But tomorrow never came.

Now, all I can do is reminisce
On my November walks
From a year ago.
I made plans,
But never tried again.
The bed became my prison,
And my resolve slipped away.

This year weighed me down:
Sickness and death in the family,
The loss of my walking buddy,
The endless voice of my inner saboteur—
Screaming: “You’re a failure!”
I doubt; I procrastinate.
Dimness surrounds me—
Not pitch dark, because I dare to hope.

Just when things seem to brighten,
And I think this November will bring renewal,
The typhoons of October
Rage one after another,
Dampening my spirit.

So as the new year approaches,
I hope to restart.
I remember the darkness this year brought
And the brightness my walks gave me.

The wind whispers to me,
Brushing hair from my face,
Keeping me company in solitude.
The trees and flowers
Always want to be my friends.
The sunflowers, especially—
They know they’re my favorites.

In the coming weeks,
I’ll seek them again—
I know meeting them
Will cheer me up—
Their yellow hues reminding me of the light
That waits outside,
And the light I hold within.

Because did you know?
Yellow is my favorite color