now return focus on
the storyline; a paperback
© gillena cox 2002
This cinquain First pisted HERE
Wise And Wanton: a Fold
Lets bridge the ocean with rays,
Curved as reflections of the rain;
Lets write a fairy tale in the ways
Seekers hope for more treasure,
Then span ripples of ocean with rays;
Timely and memorable like history,
Colourful and garish like those days
When everything goes haywire;
And only words spoken can phrase,
Intentions for solutions to end mayhem;
Then connect across ocean with rays
© gillena cox 2023How to construct The Fold Poem HERE and HERE and HERE
I remember from school days, growing up; a weather verse with a line "September remember"
I read about and marvel of the autumn/September equinox: derived from the Latin aequinoctium, from aequus (equal) and nox (genitive noctis, plural noctium) (of the equal nights). On the day of an equinox, daytime and nighttime are of approximately equal duration all over the planet.
heat wave here -
jugs of cucumber water
September 23rd and its another season of Trini Christmas music. One hundred day of it, to be exact; hosted by our 'Sweet 100.1 FM' radio station. I am locked on.
Parang, soca parang, christmas calypsoes and laced in, some of the international traditional ones. But, the emphasis is Trini songs and music.
i dance to the music from
my red radio
© gillena cox 2023
Nearness Of You
Here we go again dear,
Bright moon our delight,
I had hoped for wine,
And twinkling stars, but
You and me near remain.
No one counts stars to wit,
It's just a game, romance
Can just as well be a
A book on your mantel,
A story to fount night.
When all is said and done
Awakening should be
Just as sweet as words
Like dripping of treacle
Spoken or read before© gillena cox 2023
An Autumn Fold
Crackling lightning follows rowdy thunder;
My Mac-burger and Coke held for dear tighter,
No one told me i would be in this blunder;
The very sky did, of a foreign country,
Dormant minutes ago speaks rowdy thunder,
Vacation do and don'ts didn't list
Carry an umbrella, no wonder
Oh bless my heart today i am doused so
In pouring rain like a flounder
Autumn trees in there colourful garb watch me
Protecting Mac and Coke in rowdy thunder
Arte Haida,” by
Waking To Aging: a Fold poem
Some mornings when bones relate age to skin,
Poise just wants to relax and bend forward;
Reality and surreal veils become thin,
Body pains storing aging records;
Sky of morning relate age to skin,
With its grey clumps of sunless clouds;
Some games you lose and some you win,
That's the way of setting and risings sun;
A heartshaped cloud! a sure win,
Can seep through aches of rising to,
Another day when bones relate age to skin.© gillena cox 2023
She wanted so badly to go mall shopping with her friends, but there was this inherent 'lack of fun' app installed in her mum, so there was no way she could go if her dad was not around to plead on her behalf.
This was an important event. She had to buy a gift for her boy in Standard Five. He was only two years older than she was and he was such a hunk. All the girls swooned around him, but she had caught his eye.
She had to think of something and fast. Words swarmed like a buzz of bees in her mind. To be pretty for you I have dropped two seeds of turnsole in the dark of both eyes.
She started scribbling and pretty soon there was a poem almost by enchantment on the page. After she read the poem her mum smiled and nodded.
Barque of Frailty by Rishi Dastidar,
Barque of frailty, full of reformed rakes and bookish hearts
Block of fealty, full of knees doffing and hats bending
Barker of fantasy, full of bodies’ memories and memory’s body
Baroque of felony, full of fire curves and wavering sin
Byzantine of fertility, full of ground awakenings and blue sighs
Burst of fragility, full of hairline universes and breaking beats
Bloom of futility, full of pause buttons and waiting rooms
Brioche of flexibility, full of lifted crusts and spongy beds
Bridle of fashionability, full of revolving time and entropy’s glitter
Bulb of formidability, full of electric light never off since 1901
Blush of facility, full of a click’s ease and railway charm
Burial of fallibility, full of resurrected promises and wave logic
Brick of feasibility, full of home lies and silent explosions
Pity; i cannot follow the butterfly,
From the yellow to red ixora, aye!
I walk to the bougainvillea,
Its bracts oh so magenta,
The cherry has no fruit now, oh my.© gillena cox 2023