The Poetry Marathon

Love

The first drop of rain that kisses the ground is love
The first ray of sun that shines after the storm is love
When a flower starts blossoming from a bud, that is love
When a comes searching for a flower, thst is love
The sweet scent of soil after the first shower of rain is love
The stars twinkling in the night just to be with the moon, is love
Surrendering oneself to someone precious is love
Even after surrendering ourselves to someone
The feeling of being attached to them and yet being free
That is what is said to be love

The Book of Words (5)

The Book of Words

for Mommy

In the Book of Words
Pictures hang alongside their Definitions
Images of the Faithful who embody their meaning

And by now, you should all know
What my mother looks like

She’s a supermodel

Her likeness appears under Sacrifice, and
Devotion, and Faithfulness as well as
Both Unconditional and Love
Just to name a few

She is famous

Behold the image with her three babies
Huddled in her bed while she reads stories

And with a broken-hearted daughter, head cradled in her mother’s lap, crying. Over a boy.

Another shows a curious beagle, punished by a porcupine disinclined to be
Sniffed and Studied

And Mom, hampered by a snowstorm that prevented a run to the vet
Wielding pliers to remove the dogged quills,
Ever the Compassionate Nurse.

Her picture is everywhere.

I am far less famous, but my picture is there too

Look under tired

See there?

That’s me

© Davita Joie 2016

2 pm

if there were no stars in the sky

no moon to light my steps

your voice would guide me

through long winter nights

 

 

Polar bear study

The polar bear runs a graceful curved claw along her ear. At the end of a long night, she sighs a long breath of mist into the long dawn. She stretches and her soft paws make no noise on the hoarfrost. She has lived as many days as years. A paradox her southern cousins wouldn’t understand.

A night six months long

The play of two white shadows

Life begins again

Wasbi

Wanting to wait
Whining before wasting
Wasbi as we
Want to wait
Wasted time wildly
Willingly talking while
Walk away who
Wins now we
Wonder licking wounds
Wanted to wait
Weighted down we’re
Well now wishing
We actually wanted
Wasbi

Changing Seasons

Today I spotted gold leaves among the green on the trees outside my window. Pretty as it is…it reminds me of what is coming. It is called WINTER in Canada. Oh, there may be a short period called FALL that precedes the bitter days ahead…but it will not last long enough for me. Many people love the transition to winter. But I am a “summer person”…and so there is a tinge of sadness falling on my soul as those tiny golden leaves trickle down to earth…yes, green earth at this writing. In a matter of weeks it will turn brown and remain that way for many months…possibly buried in snow. The cycle has begun…on this warm August day.

I must accept it
for it is part of Nature
It was meant to be

Rain

He would have blue eyes.

. Eyes not blue like the rain but darker because when it rains the sky gets dark. His voice would be smooth but slightly rough around the edges, and of course loud because the lightening is immaculate and thunder threateningly loud. He would stand in the rain but he wouldn’t be wet, only cold. Not cold like something is cold after being wet once but coldness in its original, raw form.

He would look at me.

That day, with him standing there and looking at me, not avoiding my gaze, not trying to pretend I don’t exist for him, but truly looking at me, into my eyes, he would smile. I would smile back and take one step towards him. He will extend his hand and I will walk closer and take it.

That is when I will dance. Dance not in the rain this time but with Rain.

I will wait, I must

It will rain eventually for me

Then you shall be mine

Poem 5

With Love – Phone

 

I am a phone,
Whose throne, nobody can own.
The one who has a ringtone,
Follow order like a line of stone.
I am luckiest one here,
Nobody can think to go without me, anywhere.
I loved by everyone,
More than anyone.
From younger to old,
I treated like gold.
Lover’s child,
Students mind,
Parents hope to Google’s scope.
Loneliness companion, all in all champion.
Alone I am enough to guide,
Happy to help at every side.

Early Morning Walking

He is completely untrustworthy…

Ask my sisters,

they’ll tell you the same thing…

Hee hee hee hee .

There is one in section 2,

that I think if I wanted to pick the perfect building…

I think pasta,

you know something soft…

I went running and the air feels thinner.

I don’t know.

Our air seems thicker…

What are you doing?

Having dinner?

Every time when I see it,

I hear my mother say that…

 

SCRO 11 am

The sixth panel. One quarter done!