Dreaming
Dreaming
Apples ripen at the touch of hands, we
pretend, like kid’s playing in the snow, real,
like flowing creeks sparkling with sun, cool.
Hour 11
Campfire Comfort
The sky a dark back drop
The stars shining from dark blue
We sit around the fire singing
Every song we can think of
The words wrapping around us
The smoke creating galaxies in the sky
We lose ourselves in bad voices joining together
Everyone ignoring how bad they sound alone
The fire dies down and we slowly stand
The steps we take to our beds slow hoping for one more song
My Spirituality
When I was a child, my mother insisted I
Accompany her to church every time she attended.
At first, I did not mind for there were kids like me,
With their parents, and we had fun playing.
As I got older, I began to question
Some of the things I saw and heard.
They were patiently explained as things of faith.
But sooner rather than later, faith did not square
what I was being taught. When I got old enough
to make my own decisions, I quit going with her
and ventured forth into the world in search
of my own spirituality. One thing I learned,
‘No place is the work of the devil more apparent
Than in the division of men who say they oppose him.’
Lullaby
HOUR ELEVEN
-
moonbeams singing a lullaby
everything is bathed in a glossy luminescence
beneath the furrowed duvet, a wisteria vine sigh
How to escape this earthly noise?pine tree in my tea-cup.
ii.
sweet drops on the pine cones
resin tears on the thistle
a lady bug tumbles in the grass
a reflection of the moon caught in a champagne glassdew drops perched on a spider web.
iii.
fragrant incense stick in a beehive
sunbeams dyed in ocher hue
hummingbird croaks like a frog
honey drips from blue-eyed grassa golden mushroom in a sky.
Copyrighted by Ruchi Chopra, 2017.
The Dance
In the darkness of night the band came to town
Dancing and jigging until the dawn
The fiddlers were playing till they were almost on fire
The dancers feet were surging, nary a yawn.
They bounded around the room with intense energy
The people surrounded them, hands clapping along
With gleeful voices they cheered in time
Joining in the spirited song.
A drunken sailor tried to follow the dance
His feet tripping over themselves
The rest of the dancers linked arms with him
Helped him dance like a troupe of elves.
With a shout and a bow, the band left the town
Following the morning sun
The townspeople sighed and went home to their beds
Sad to see the end of such fun.
Hour Ten: Colors
the teacher asks
a direct question—
her face
the sun-bleached clam shell
inspected by a gull—
low tide
sleepless—
the nightlight
is burned out
listening to
Billie Holiday again—
candle drips
he tells us
about his auctioned house—
rubbing my eyes
Color My World
Red for the blood
White for pure
Blue for integrity
Color My World
Yellow sun
The pink rose
The orange sunset
The day will close
Green for money and wealth
Brown for laboring at the belt
Color My World
with history
Color My World
with life
the good the bad the ugly the love and the strife
The blood cleans
The blue skies represent freedom
The white because we are suppose to be pure
In thought, purpose in mind
Colors represent my world
as you will find
From sunup to sundown
From mountains to valleys
From favorites to dislikes
Life fills reality
Swallowtail Jig
The sounds of stings
The joy it brings
The melody, it soothes me
Creatively groovy
The notes the scream
Follow me
Joyfully
Pick up your bow
Go with the flow
The pen it bleeds
As my soul sings
Old Lady Pain
It hurts.
I must have overdone it
Putting on my brassiere.
Odd pains,
Here and there,
Come and go.
Familiar pains,
Bone and muscle,
Come and stay.
Sharp or dull,
Localized or radiating,
Stabbing or aching,
Constant or Throbbing.
All pain stops eventually.
Pain is life.
Embrace the ibuprofen.
The party had just begun
Relativistic perpetuation
running rampant
engulfing the turf
Portending catastrophe,
there is a loud crack,
booming from behind
The water cascades in,
cacophony complete
a thunderous rumbling underneath
From the wall’s collapse,
there is no return.
Run
There is nothing left
behind
ahead is full of dread.
Bound on,
adrenal excitement
boiling over into reality.