The Lantern

 

The Lantern

My father at the

top of the hill, a lantern

in his hand, a beacon.

GloPoWriMo Day 10

Animals

 

Animals

The Bear

Alone in my den

I sleep.

When I wake up,

the world will be new again.

My dreams are those

of summer and solitude.

That’s why I have never been able

to believe

in winter.

The continual darkness,

the winds and the cold,

those must be

somebody else’s nightmare.

The Swallows

South is a place on the map,

a promised land,

a dream.

North is in the past.

There’s no use dwelling

on memories,

no matter how bittersweet

they are.

Home

is a pair of strong wings,

right here,

right now.

The Preying Mantis

She is the mistress

of understatement.

Maybe it was in a poetry workshop,

she is not sure,

but she remembers clearly

the lesson.

Though it is not easy,

you have to kill them:

the vague adverbs,

the boring descriptions,

the passives,

every single word

that doesn't tell the story.

And what did you think I meant?

GloPoWriMo Day 9

My Shadow

 

My Shadow

My shadow mocks me behind my back.

She thinks I don’t know.

She isn’t at all like me.

She puts on weight to spite me

and eats whatever she wants.

She forgets names

and makes too many promises.

She isn’t at all like me.

She goes into dark rooms,

drags her elbows through cobwebs,

her knees are always scratched.

She is not at all like me.

I am ladylike. She is not.

She speaks loudly and too much.

And she sings out of tune.

She is not at all like me.

At night, I find her in dark rooms, sitting

all by herself.

She is a loner.

An eccentric.

And a nerd.

She is not at all like me.

And she mocks me behind my back.

She thinks I don’t know.

NaPoWriMo Day 8

Grandma's Broth

 

Grandma’s Broth

 

Carrot stick, celery, parsnip, leek,

onion, rosemary, basil and garlic.

                     Simmering, bubbling, humming sound.                     

Fragrant, spicy, earthy, browned.

Hearty, savoury, tangy, zesty.

Scalding, steamy, smooth  and silky.

Welcome, welcome.

Grab a spoon.

Have some more.

Come again soon.

GloPoWriMo Day 7

Don't be late like Ilija

 

Don’t be late like Ilija

I  have time management issues. 

In other words, I am always late.

Even God has noticed. 

In fact, He has been worried about it.

In my dream last night God spoke to me again.

Don’t be late, he told me.

Don’t be late like Ilija.

I wonder who Ilija is.

Is it Elijah from the Bible?

Or did he mean Ilija, our old neighbour.

I don’t remember him being late.

Though once he got drunk on my mother’s brandy.

But only because he thought it was wine.

I have never been truly drunk.

So, it can’t be that.

Maybe it is someone else completely.

It’s quite a common name over here.

Whoever he is, he has a problem with time management,

and so do I.

I tend to daydream,

I tend to linger and hesitate,

and there is no time for such activities

in this day and age.

For example, here.

I have been sitting here for a while.

I have been staring into the void.

I have been waiting, patiently, for something to shift,

for the air to thicken,

so that I can finish this poem

and go to bed on time

at least once.

GloPoWriMo Day 6

I hate notebooks

 

I hate notebooks

I hate notebooks.

The way they look at me accusingly 

from across the room.

I hate little scraps of blank paper.

They seem to pop up wherever I go.

I hate book margins and paper napkins,

pencils and ball-point pens,

word documents and phone diaries.

They all seem to judge me.

They all seem to expect something from me

whenever I walk by.

GloPoWriMo26 - Day 5

The night the river remembered

 

The night the river remembered its true size

All night, it rained, and in the morning,

from our vantage point on the hill we saw 

the maps had been re-written while we slept. 

There was an angry delta where the bridge had been and

our road home had turned to water.

GloPoWriMo Day 4