249

[image courtesy Imaginary Garden With Real Toads]

BRAVE MEN'S BONES
Insatiable Mistress War
She basks in the interlude of strife
She paints her rouge of dead men's blood
And fancies her nails from his bones

Stalking the shadows of discord
Wrenching in anorexic pangs of hate
Seducing with her hips of disagreement
Watch how we bow now to brave men’s souls

And peace genuflects
BRAVE MEN'S BONES © gillena cox 2016


Written for Flash 55 Kerry' prompt at

Monday WRites 64

[image from google dot com]

GRAYSCALED HOURS
What bird is this sounding in the dawn hours
Tick tock, tick tock, a metronome to savour so
Incoming newness with footsteps tread such power
Grayscale brings in, staggered reflection, deep
And the clock too, is sounding in the dawn hours
Marking time on the eyelids of morning, gently
And what of the moon? is she strawberry colour
Or has she lost her blush to time's serious glare
Will anything choose to be rigid in chaos so dour
With regret disturb fine thoughts of poetic rays
Still questioning a sounding in the dawn hours
GRAYSCALED HOURS © gillena cox 2016

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Form - The FOLD



I rise to taste the dawn, and find that love alone will shine today Ken Wilber



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 #64, ❧✿❧ Whats your mood like 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 />


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247

AMATEURS CROSSING THE WATERS
“Look a baby turtle”; we cranes our necks, to catch a glimpse
The pirouge plunges through the great waters
In our quest to get to another, having left one island
Islands all our own, the largest we call
Trinidad and Tobago
We are sailing, where pirates once plundered
Where pioneers once dreamed of golden cities
Where Crusoe crossed, shipwrecked, to meet his Man Friday
Where Shakespeare summoned his Caliban and tempestuous waters
We are sailing under guided hands
Azure skies, with whispered prayers in daring hearts
For we are merely amateurs
Neither Mermaids, Sirens, or Sylphs
AMATEURS CROSSING THE WATERS © gillena cox 2016

Revisit
Chacachacare Saturday


I am the prompter today at 'imaginary garden with real toads' visit to see the responses to this prompt


...

Don't leave before listening to this Trinidad Calypso 'If Trinidad is a Boat'

246

BUTTERFLY PAUSE FOR CONTEMPLATION
A butterfly skips through my backyard,
The overgrown grass is a result of rainy days,
The butterfly greets, flower after flower;
A pause for contemplation;
On he who dares and fulfill a life's dream;
In the light of morning and the damp of dew.
Things seem to be clear as the certainty
Of a day, already ongoing,
Ah yes. some things are for sure
A result of that certainty;
Take for example a young boxer,
Beautiful, and light on his flying feet,
With the sting of a thousand bees in his fists;
Floats out of his garden awhile in contemplation;
And then the end comes, he had to leave us.
BUTTERFLY PAUSE FOR CONTEMPLATION © gillena cox 2016


Written for
The Tuesday Platform


Kerry O'Connor Challenge: Do you have any words written on the passing of Muhammad Ali, which you would like to share today?

Monday WRites 63

IN EVENING SHADE
I rest in the shade of evening to dwell,
In the abode where contemplation sits;
Not in a yoga mantric pose, no, a spell
Of yawns and legs outstretched, best suits
My manner of cool down evening to dwell,
Here yesterdays, of caresses, like spoonfuls
Melt, in hot tea; a teacup hones its smell
Of lemongrass, a herb, a soothing balm
To calm the tantrums of wish it could tell
Days of happiness past, to, return my heart;
I rest here, in the shade of evening to dwell.
IN EVENING SHADE © gillena cox 2016


Form - The FOLD

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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 #63, ❧✿❧ Whats your mood like 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 />


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Will link also to On Popular Demand – Rest is the sweet sauce of labor – [6]

244

['Guernica' by Pablo Picasso from google dot com]

YO YOU SISTERS
Yo! you sisters, Night and Death,
You wrench a flood of tears,
From the tsumani of sorrow's bosom,
Wretched and weary, you leave to mourn
Forgetting, brother Resurrection:
The Hope of those hearts, ripped to shreds,
Nailed to spikes, of regret and dread;
Light of the World, gentler than a mother’s womb
YO YOU SISTERS © gillena cox 2016

Written for Kerry O'Connor prompt
the sisters Death and Night ~ Micro Poetry


Challenge: to write a poem in no more than 10 lines (but you may write in fewer than 10 lines all the way down to a single American sentence). You may choose your own form or stick to free verse, if preferred.
The subject matter for your poem is wide open, but bear in mind 'the sisters Death and Night' angle from the poem 'Reconciliation' by Walt Whitman

243

[image courtesy The imaginary garden]

SO AT THREE PM
At 3pm I'll open the gate,
So i'll have to have my soup late;
We'll study the leaves, left on the shrubs
To see if there be, any more pesky bugs;
Could we do this then, here and now?
Open The Good Book, as our heads we bow.

U for unicorns, are they extinct?
The Word, our Jesus, he's our link.
SO AT THREE PM © gillena cox 2016


Written for Isadora's The Black Mirror



Challenge: Cell phones can some times steal too much of our attention, their darkened monitors beckoning us to their black mirror surface. Today, we take some of that time and creative energy back. I am calling all toads to pick up their cell phones for some inspirado.
Take the last text message you received and use it in a poem. Good luck on handling emojis!!!

Mine was
how u going? Could we do the study tomorrow at 3pm?