Paune bara baje

Almost midnight, neon signs blaze
clock ticking, moonlit designs
cast through the trees, the window
over my feet, shadow sandals shifting

as I drift by candlelight
afloat on thin air just long enough
to feel like flying over lunar craters
somersaulting, star-hopping carelessly

in my pajamas, catching air
catching a breath and holding it
until the clock strikes upward
hands clasped together in prayer.


#NaPoWriMo 24/30

Walking the Edge

Between death and life there lies an edge
thin as spiderweb, long as a moonless sky.
Everyone moves toward it, some racing
at breakneck pace and others dawdling
with enough time to smell the sweet peas
and perhaps to see the sunset fall.

These days, many folk end up meandering
unsteadily along the edge, sometimes losing
balance and teetering over the edge,
only to be pulled back by us in the nick of time.
Indeed, this multitude requires such attention
that we have hardly any to spare for the rest.

And so we tend to the edge, walk along it
alongside these wanderers, hoping to guide
and to stand between them and despair.
Between life and death we stand,
as both guardians and gatekeepers
holding hands and letting them go.


#NaPoWriMo 23/30

The truth is a petty thunderstorm

The truth is a petty thunderstorm
invisible in a cloudy night
mocking my best attempts to find it,

then blinding in its intensity
when lightning flashes upward,
deafening in its thunderous crash.

It looms so much larger than me,
so much more definitively real
despite its intangibility.

I sit helpless in my apartment,
unable to search it out,
touch it or - dare I say - change it,

all I can do is to stay and watch
so that when it flashes forth I am
ready, waiting to be blinded.


#NaPoWriMo 22/30

(Prompt courtesy of a roll of #MetaphorDice by Taylor Mali)

The Twisted Prism

The hardest part of this, to be honest,
is capturing midnight in the first place.
The aching wait until the next new moon,
the careful focusing and reflection
into a clean jar lined with ivory
paint to hold in the elusive darkness.

Now, most people will tell you to just pour
it over your prism and catch what falls.
Inefficient, with the spill of midnight,
plus your colors won’t react properly.
Lucky for you, you’re learning from the best;
I’ll let you in on a little secret.

Put your prism in the jar beforehand,
and once you’ve caught your midnight, let it sit
for a few weeks, or better a few years.
You’ll get your usual blood red, bone white
but time rewards the patient colorist:
firefly green, wolf-eye yellow, twilight blue.

Those for whom the night is an acquaintance,
or worse an enemy, will never know
what lies beyond the death, will never see
the colors of life hidden in darkness.
It is up to you to teach them, young lass-
to love cold midnight as they love the dawn.


#NaPoWriMo 21/30

"Good morning!!"

Your texted "Good morning!!" lingers in my mind

like the humming chime of flying blueberries
striking the metal bowl you use to wash them,

like the savory bliss of your dal in my mouth,
its warm glow tingling down my throat to my chest,

like the sweet scent of the lavender you bought
and then carefully arranged throughout our home,

like the heart-skip sight of your smile as we wave
good night before turning away to our beds.


#NaPoWriMo 20/30

Some Flowers

Some flowers are words, meaningful alone
but significant only when strung together.

Some are statements by themselves,
some entire stories grown in the past
and blossoming in the present.

And some flowers are poems
revealing secret emotions, hidden truths

when arranged a certain way and
shared with a special someone
at just the right moment.

#NaPoWriMo 19/30

So you'd like to buy a bell

So you’d like to buy a bell today
but which bell would be best?
A jingle bell, a bell that clangs,
a bell that hangs or one that stands?

An array of bells fills this chest
and you may pick but one
just one, by the sound you hear
standing there six feet away.

Not fair, you say? Why, I agree!
But you came here for a bell
not justice or fairness or
anything in between.

So pick your bell and carry it
with you wherever you live-
let it sit on your desk
or swing from your door,

let it blare all day long
or just for a moment,
let its song ring just for you
or sing out to many more,

but let it sing, let it ring, let it
tingle your toes and tickle your nose,
let it echo through the halls
and reverberate through your bones.

#NaPoWriMo 18/30