DOCUMENTING SOME SAINTS
I'll document today to the saint of hope in azure skies,
In yellow breast of kiskadee, fluttering through leafy bowers,
To hummingbird visits, even though skittish and fleeting.
I'll document today to the saint of faith,
In the Autumn of my friends far across the oceans deep and wide,
As i sweep and heap yellow Plumeria leaves fallen
In golden Caribbean sunlight right here in my backward.
I'll document today to the saint of trust;
believing in tomorrows as i watch butterfly wings
Open and close over straddled wild Fever Few flowers,
And that dove who hears my footsteps
But decides its time to flee,
Her brown feathers taken in flight of my gaze,
You flee, still i see you.
I'll document today to the saint of gratitude,
As the old mango stump stands,
Weather eaten and decaying
Over the fresh pink blossoms of Vinca,
Seated near the speckled pink of green Elephant Ears,
In harmonious conversation of garden dwelling.
[image from google dot com, i cropped and framed it]
MAKING MYTHS [5] HALLOWEEN TREATS
This is not a blame story [so men are not included in these paragraphs]. Sooo, any which way, one day, Despair, woke in a vainglorious mood, she put on her orange kimono and wrapped her gold obi around her waist. She burnt the incense sticks of purity and gave a blessing to her dead ancestors.
"Ha, what shall I do with my most beautiful self today?" she pondered silently. Her incongruous smile wandering across from ear to dainty ear. "Tsunami, maybe." She clapped her hands. "No! I will just simply change into another costume."
[image from google dot com, i cropped it]
So, she wrapped her locks in a bright coloured cloth, Kente, I believe they called it, for its striking pattern and colours, like an autumn field where maple trees grew. She wrapped her body in a fittingly matching cloth, kicked off her shoes, painted her toenails and stepped barefooted in the dusty path of that day, galaxies ago.
It so happened, there was a mighty fierce wind about, and it blew and blew, and she struggled and struggled, to keep her cloths from flying off. "Wretched wind!" she cursed. "I could silence you with a twirl of my wand." So, she twirled and she twirled, meaning to banish the wind to the depths of the sea, to rise, to wrecking havoc in Atlantic storms.
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The wind blew and blew. And all around her was dust and dust. "How could this be?" she voiced her concern. Only to hear the reply. "I am the Most Mighty. And I bid you go to sleep for it is your nap time."
Most Mighty! she had never conceived of this concept before. Where was this coming from. But there it was, this wind that blew and blew. Suddenly she felt quite intimidated, and she also felt herself getting smaller and smaller. And Oh Good Heavens, she felt her coloured toenails disappearing
[caterpillar from my garden]
Next thing she knew, she was blown to a Plumeria, where, the intoxicating overpowering scent of white blossoms, forced her to feed a ravishing hunger. So she ate and ate. And ate and ate. Till she thought she would burst out of her new little self. Instead, she then got the sensation of one having been given beautiful stripped pyjamas and now losing them to the wind. she fell into a deep deep sleep.
[moth image from google dot com]
While she slept, she dreamed of costumes with wings called Hope, in beautiful colours. Not just the colours of her long discarded Kente, no. These were colours of a new Rainbow Existence. And the wings got to singing. Singing of something they called Hope. And she once again, felt she was being tossed, like a leafy yummy salad.
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 #129, ❧✿❧ What's your mood like today ❧✿❧ I invite you to link in with one of your WRites
Pumpkins keep popping up all around blogs sphere around this time. My take on pumpkins is soup. Enjoy!!!
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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 #128, ❧✿❧ What's your mood like today ❧✿❧ I invite you to link in with one of your WRites
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Written for Awhape me! at the imaginary garden
Paul prompted: giving us a list of 30 words from the English language that have fallen out of our consciousness and conversation that might conceivably make a comeback.
In my poem i used:
Snout-fair:Having a fair countenance; fair-faced, comely, handsome
Merry-go-sorry: A mixture of joy and sorrow
Awhape: To amaze, stupefy with fear, confound utterly
Slug-a-bed: One who lies long in bed through laziness
SHUBH DIVALI
a cadence of raindrops... chants to Mother Lakhsmi...curved bamboo structures yet awaiting deyas...all this is happening on the street where i live
its morning ... sky sheds tears as the old moon is crumbled... into a thousand stars...new moon waits like a patient bride...adorned in light...she waits in her boudoir... high up in the sky
old moon will soon be forgotten... rain-tears cleared... new moon welcomed... as evening draws in...the celebrants have hearts full of hope...tiny deyas to be placed, on the bamboo forms... oil to be added for the flames...and a myriad of lit deyas to resonate stars....on the street where i live
new moon will shine... in this dark October night...Divali night...then the cadence of footsteps...of visitors and residents...shuffling through the rows of light...shubh Divali...on the street where i live
Note
Today is a public holiday here in T&T as the Hindu community celebrates Divali - The Festival of Lights Diwali also spelt Divali / Deepavali a five-day festival in many regions of India, with Diwali night centering on the new moon – the darkest night – at the end of the Hindu lunar month of Ashvin and the start of the month of Kartika
The Caterpillars are back again, they certainly resonate Autumn(in colour and transience) Though we in this clime do not experience Autumn nor Winter nor Spring nor Summer. We only experience a Wet Season and a Dry Season
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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 #127, ❧✿❧ What's your mood like today ❧✿❧ I invite you to link in with one of your WRites
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DO Enjoy the music
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today's mosiac photos are from my garden - gillena cox 2017
