138

image courtesy The imaginary garden


AUTUMN LEAVES
Where is everyone?
Leaves rest
On the park bench
To pattern loneliness

Leaves rest
Colours
Infuse the Autumn park
Chilled wayfarers move on

On the park bench
a still life
talent of the wind
With masterful strokes

To pattern loneliness
Filling the park
With riotous surreal warmth
Of fallen reds oranges browns
AUTUMN LEAVES © gillena cox

Written for Margaret's
Artistic Interpretations

Challange: to respond with an original poem to images posted

137

GRACKLE
I love the grackles
with their sleek black shiny coats
Black satin in motion

They hop skip rest
On my wall, looking
with their side-placed eyes

Sometimes i hear
A sort of buk buk buk
I'm not sure really

Sometimes
I think it's chuk chuk chuk
But always, i know

There's a grackle on my wall
We meet eye to eye sometimes
in a friezed stare, in a dance of minds
GRACKLE © gillena cox


Written for Susan's prompt
Midweek Motif ~ Animation

136

HI
We all do it don't we? The wave
Parting of the elemental particles
Clearing the unseen paths
Shushing the chatter unheard
That's the wave
Then another responds. Hi
Claiming the voice of the shushed
Ones, penetrating the opening
In the curtain just drawn
Channeling a flow of connection
The wave
You and I, I and you
Generating thoughts before words
Find their way across borders
Sparks of electricity rush
In nanoseconds
Moving at the speed of light
The unassuming, simple, wave
Of the hand
It's magic, you know
HI © gillena cox

Written for Marian's
The Tuesday Platform its open mic

Monday WRites 35

Not sharing a poem today; happy about by new children's book, now live, "The Little Seed and his brother"
Available from the publishers/online bookstores



You've heard about the Monday Blues ❧✿❧ well this is Monday WRites ( musing on the definition here of rite, as any customary observance or practice eg the rite of afternoon tea).
Welcome to Monday WRites #35, ❧✿❧ whats your mood today ❧✿❧ I invite you to link in with one of your WRites



GRAB MY BUTTON
<br /> <a href="http://myblog-verses.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0C9WPzL5kFEY1gEitLn4bC5inZjfq2beowWitvrD3zLruIRMxxj1RyrHw6Xcd6SlmEASrTd6rLFn4mfF8D8XC5Mz4ASE8iblAAmc3uaKNuHtYgvzIWajyH64D6kzlwugaU8wP610yKLRq/s320/button2Monday+WRites.jpg" alt="verses" /></a><br />

I am blog hopping today at Monday Musings

Monday WRites 34

Jeane Myers - Far South of Dawn
From google dot com

MORNING INCOMING
It matters not this silence, sworn of coming morning
For when the frequencies of frenzy, reach the line
It is finished, night is over and day is drummed in
With a toot, a twitter, a street broom swished in time
Its chatter sharp and clear, sworn of coming morning
All the remaining minutes stuffed in a pouch all mine
To contemplate, to hoard like the stuff of Pandora
Sealed and labelled 'do not open, contents a shrine'
Of meditating in-breaths deepened and slowed down
Stretched and limbered for sleuth of word and cline
Purported or penned to the sworn of coming morning
MORNING INCOMING © gillena cox 2015

MORNING INCOMING - a FOLD


You've heard about the Monday Blues ❧✿❧ well this is Monday WRites ( musing on the definition here of rite, as any customary observance or practice eg the rite of afternoon tea).
Welcome to Monday WRites #34, ❧✿❧ whats your mood today ❧✿❧ I invite you to link in with one of your WRites



GRAB MY BUTTON
<br /> <a href="http://myblog-verses.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0C9WPzL5kFEY1gEitLn4bC5inZjfq2beowWitvrD3zLruIRMxxj1RyrHw6Xcd6SlmEASrTd6rLFn4mfF8D8XC5Mz4ASE8iblAAmc3uaKNuHtYgvzIWajyH64D6kzlwugaU8wP610yKLRq/s320/button2Monday+WRites.jpg" alt="verses" /></a><br />

Will Link to

The Tuesday Platform its open mic

133

image from google dot com


TO THE PHONE BOOTH
An ordinarily not so uneventful day
Some twisted mind not so far away
Eyes the museum in a most selfish way
Gotta get them jewels Yeah

Oh but the phone booth is very near
And dear ole Kent, he would not dare
Leave the pages of the comic book for fear
His city, his love forever will bear
The brunt of greed to chagrin severe
TO THE PHONE BOOTH© gillena cox 2015

Written for Fireblossom's prompt

Fireblossom Friday BEechwood-4-5789
The challenge: The first part of the challenge is to write a poem which includes an old-fashioned rotary phone with a little bit of surrealism, or poetic magic.

132

image from google dot com


FIRE JABS
In the passion of the beat
In the coolness of night
The fire eaters channel gullets
To taste of the fire of deceit
They eat of the fear which
They have crammed in the belly
Of onlookers
For the night is bright
But the display is dark
Dark enough so you cringe
And step back
Away from the grotesque masks
They wear to show their control
Of the night
FIRE JABS © gillena cox 2015

#jab or #jab jab is a vintage Carnival character of Trinidad and Tobago masquerade


Written for Sumana's prompt
Midweek Motif ~ Fire

Monday WRites 33

animation from google dot com


JABBERWOCKY
The blank writer
A page stares at her
She pins her frowns and sighs
To a wandering horse
Running wild and free
Carrying all her words
In syllables
To the gallop of hoofs
Whose rhythm
Canters in the morning dew
To rise with whinnying breath
In the meadows
Laced with sweet wildflowers
Patterning a grassy mound
Unkempt
For such as meadows are
To run wild and free
Wind blown and yielding
And so it was:
Three friends they sat
With coffee and with tea
And sort to spend in jabberwocky
The animal, each would want to be.
JABBERWOCKY © gillena cox 2015



You've heard about the Monday Blues ❧✿❧ well this is Monday WRites ( musing on the definition here of rite, as any customary observance or practice eg the rite of afternoon tea).
Welcome to Monday WRites #33, ❧✿❧ whats your mood today ❧✿❧ I invite you to link in with one of your WRites



GRAB MY BUTTON
<br /> <a href="http://myblog-verses.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0C9WPzL5kFEY1gEitLn4bC5inZjfq2beowWitvrD3zLruIRMxxj1RyrHw6Xcd6SlmEASrTd6rLFn4mfF8D8XC5Mz4ASE8iblAAmc3uaKNuHtYgvzIWajyH64D6kzlwugaU8wP610yKLRq/s320/button2Monday+WRites.jpg" alt="verses" /></a><br />

Linking to

The Tuesday Platform its open mic

130

Camel Thorn Trees, Namibia -
image courtesy imaginary garden


EVER/NEVER
Every sundry moon glow
Whence
Morning returns

Is there ever
A question
Left
Unprompted

❧✿❧

THIS UNDYING LOVE
Another Saturday ends a week
Of truant hours for those who seek
Azure are skies, a mocking bird skips
Evening sighs say thou wind has lips
What more would be whispered
Than that already secreted
To waving branches having no care
Except to yield to wind's despair
For ever a love refusing to slumber
Never to forget always to remember
EVER/NEVER; THIS UNDYING LOVE © gillena cox 2015

Written for


Get Listed for October
Grapeling's challenge for this month's Get Listed is to use at least 2 *sets* of words in a new poem from a list that was given.

Up Close & Personal ~ Micro Poetry
Kerry O'Connor's challenge is to write a poem in no more than 10 lines.

129

image from google dot com


ON LEARNING
All my tears are sieved
Returning like cornmeal
To a desert bowl
To a wasteland, where sorrows grow
Prickly sharp, in cactus folds
Awaiting, yet another crush
To pour itself, into agave cups
There to dreaded stupor, all may drink
For I am no more than this
Than ambrosia to wanton paths
Cold the winds
And hot the sands
Dualy now, the phantoms sing
For now, belly buttons
Morphed into Gods, random
In the night, will carry their whims
Ah, but I, I lift up my eyes
To an unseen command whose word
Resides in the phrases of a poem
Ripped from that space in aged sentence
Sung, in the heart's deep yearning
Learned, from the source of light so
Loving
ON LEARNING © gillena cox 2015


Written for Susan's prompt
Midweek Motif ~ Teacher, One Who Teaches


...

Written for the prompt by Abhra
What is your gift at

Monday WRites 32

image from google dot com


TODAY'S WRITE
Bright of the morning, birds in sync
Light, snuggles against the tree top
Writers of old, they spilled the ink
Today, a flower on the desktop
A mouse clicks
Where a pen once dripped
Even sticky notes
From the settings rewrote
As light, snuggles against the tree top
Bright is the morning, with birds in sync
TODAY'S WRITE © gillena cox 2015



You've heard about the Monday Blues ❧✿❧ well this is Monday WRites ( musing on the definition here of rite, as any customary observance or practice eg the rite of afternoon tea ).
Welcome to Monday WRites #32, ❧✿❧ whats your mood today ❧✿❧ I invite you to link in with one of your WRites



GRAB MY BUTTON
<br /> <a href="http://myblog-verses.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0C9WPzL5kFEY1gEitLn4bC5inZjfq2beowWitvrD3zLruIRMxxj1RyrHw6Xcd6SlmEASrTd6rLFn4mfF8D8XC5Mz4ASE8iblAAmc3uaKNuHtYgvzIWajyH64D6kzlwugaU8wP610yKLRq/s320/button2Monday+WRites.jpg" alt="verses" /></a><br />

❧✿❧

Linking to

127

The old shopkeeper wore khaki pants,
And counted on his wooden abacus;
Folks called his corner store chinee shop,
A good place to buy cheese and hop;
Penny bread and ching-chong talk,
While the beads flew forth and back;
Lanterns with tassels he sometimes hung
Red were the colour of the songs he sung
ABACUS © gillena cox 2015




Written for Kerry's prompt
FLASH 55 PLUS!

Today we have been challenged to write a poem a piece of poetry or prose on a subject of our choice in precisely 55 words

126

Carnivorous pitcher plants on top of Mount Roraima from a google dot com search


RORAIMA PITCHERS
The lure of red in this surreal pliant
Mystify insects as if by magic chant
They lose their way
For as best they may
Into the stomachs of the pitcher plant

RORAIMA PITCHERS © gillena cox 2015


Written for Hannah's prompt
Transforming with Nature's Wonders

where the focus is Mount Roraima, and the landscape where Venezuala, Brazil and Guyana meet. Some of the oldest geological formations on earth, dating back to some two billion years ago in the precambrian.

125

image from google dot com


❧✿❧

RECOVERY
June 2001, surgery again, i had braved myself through the pre process, until the day scheduled.
Truly the loneliest feeling , is being wheeled into an operating theater

a fading image
the crucifix on the wall
that struggle to rise
swimming out of the nadir
of surgery into the light

clear azure skies
surely angels are watching
as i return
the familiar patterns
familiar shapes of home
RECOVERY © gillena cox 2015

❧✿❧

October 1976 my uterus was taken out, in June 2001 my ovaries were removed, on each occasion because of benign growths, in my abdominal area, the doctors reported, left alone could prove fatal.
The grateful aspect of this scenario is however: i had already given birth to a daughter in 1971 and a son in 1973. So i was already blessed with the charge of carrying two healthy children and being a mother.

edited to include: this is by no means a complaint; but rather, just info

...

Written for Susan's prompt
Midweek Motif ~ Recovery/healing