123

where are they now
those caterpillars
having eaten
the last of
the green leaves

bare knobby stems
remnants of a once vibrant
plumeria

the way tired bones
joined in skeletal array
wait for med students
to count them

© gillena cox 2015


Written for the prompt by Gayle Walters Rose
'Jisei, Japanese Death Poems' - at

122

image from google dot com


CHOICES
To be or not, to do if i please
Inhale large gulps of twitterings
Exhale with its orangeness
Evenings, curving into silhouettes

To do if i please, to be or not
Butterfly wings over feverfew
No one planted, yet the wind
Takes credit for these things

To be or not, to do if i please
I'll paint skies in cloudy hues
Silver is the morning light
That glistens over silent dew
CHOICES © gillena cox

Written for the prompt
Midweek Motif ~ Choice

Monday WRites 30

moon gif from google dot com


SHY MOON

I paint my face on a shy moon,
Hoping to draw from her a swoon;
Quiet there, among shadowy cloud,
This night, tis made no doubt,
For magical thoughts hence to tether,
Fantasy, which may forever,
Etch admonitions for wanderers,
Their faces turned to night lumineers.
SHY MOON© gillena cox



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 #30, ❧✿❧ 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 />

120

image from google dot com


Silver edges a morning cloud,
A waxing sun so silent so slow,
Spider in her web-binous proud,
Patterns a song with threads aglow,

Patterns a song with threads aglow,
Like the lace of a ladies crochet edge,
To her signature hanky hidden below,
A trousseau awaiting a pledge.
© gillena cox 2015


Written for the prompt
Midweek Motif ~ Let your song be delicate

119

Ixoras - hardy, hearty blooms; in reds, yellows, oranges and pinks to dismiss every gloom; they decorate my garden; they love the rain; more and more pop up, in the splendor of a sunny day after it rains; like tiny umbrellas they cluster together, bunches to delight every admirer. So i pick some, bringing delight to my table.

and i arrange them
with a snip of my scissors -
ixora pom poms
© gillena cox 2015


Written for
The Tuesday Platform

Monday WRites 29

Michael Provenza painting
'New Adventure'


VOID OF NEWNESS
Filling the void of newness,
Nuance, of angelic whispers,
Twitterings, of feathered ones
Rumblings, of the petrol fed.

Such is morning, in its newness

Colours, daubed on feathers,
Invisibility, weaving fine threads,
Rhythms, their andantes sworn,
Light, the response of creation.

Returns, of a code of continuity

Today, clutters into a pattern,
Spaces, left to snag adventures,
Unique, only to first time players,
Embodying, thus awakened dream.

Added, to a weave already woven

Tiny, spider at the pivot of life,
Charms, delicacy and grandeur,
Diaphanous, strands of chapters,
Yet, hardy enough to endure.

Span of action from spirit word.

VOID OF NEWNESS © gillena cox



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 #29, ❧✿❧ 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 />

117

image frompublic domain



PROCESS SURREAL
He’s the madman, slicing off an ear,
Spoiling his metaphor,
Charts a sentence through the valley
Of amore
Flays arms and heart in rhythmic stupor
And for what?
The juxtaposition of a simile perfect;
All’s for nought, and nought but dread,
This creature like Andromeda chained,
Not to jagged rock, or torture pole,
Bounded though, to inertia where,
Gravity tells no tale orated to,
The weightlessness of words.

Written for
Words Count with Mama Zen

from the inspiration of Jean Cocteau's first film The Blood of a Poet (1930) to write a poem in less than 80 words