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Category Archives: Love

Fusion

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I am of you and you of me

Mingled blues upon the sea

Gentle sway of burnished brine

We fall and rise in tide, in time

 

We fall and rise in tide, in time

Gentle sway of burnished brine

Mingled blues upon the sea

I am of you and you of me

In Search of Glee

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March 2011 018

December finds my heart heavy like branches weighted in white. I fail to embrace it. Instead I scoff at the scrambling of over anxious shoppers and assumptions that blaring Christmas music brightens my world. The carefully chosen Fraser fir stands unembellished in the living room for yet another day. You know my funk, that same old funk that fiddles with my mind, this time every year. You roll your eyes in circles of “here we go again” as mine well up.

Gazing out the window, I summon a spindly slice of moon for answers. She is silent. You wrap your arms around me as snowflakes flit and flutter against ink spattered skies. I count them like expectations. You hold me tighter, reminding me that the spirit of Christmas is not measured by the amount of hearts sitting around a table. It beats in the loneliest of hearts, even in the darkest of nights.

night cradles the day

Luna peeks from under veil

one star shines brighter

 

It’s Haibun fun again at dVerse. Toni leads with her expertise on the form and has asked us to write a haibun about a good night, any good night, keeping these haibun rules in mind for the prompt. “1) It is non-fiction 2) It happened directly to you 3) One to two tight paragraphs 4) You end it with a classical seasonal haiku.”  There is lots of time to join in.

There is Light

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sunrise

 

The sun paints for you
In hues against blues
Reflections of great sorrow
You gallantly cope
Through beacons of hope
For sunrises and tomorrows

Let skies amaze you
Daybreak embrace you
Memories warmly whisper
Layers of love shine
Heal in your own time
He lives in your heart, sister

 

Dedicated to my sister-in-law, Michelle.

~

At dVerse Poets Pub, Gayle introduces The Alouette, a poetic form consisting of “two or more stanzas of 6 lines each (sestets) with the following set rules: Syllables/Meter: 5, 5, 7, 5, 5, 7 Rhyme Scheme: a, a, b, c, c, b”. 

I Wish

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I wish love grew as ivy

Boundless, disencumbered

Sprouting across spaces

Rainbows of faces

As we sway hand in hand

 

I wish for seas

Of selfish hearts to crash

Against rocky reefs

Dissolve and dilute

In harbors of integrity

 

I wish for all clichéd

World peace, homemade

Stirred, simmered, seasoned

With the very gifts

That God gave us

 

I wish for stars

To forever befuddle me

Amaze me, allude me

Remain unreachable

So I never stop reaching

 …and wishing

 

As your host today at dVerse Poets Pub, I am asking you to leave your worries at the door. Make a wish and write a poem about it. It may be a personal longing or a global vision. Your poem can be serious, humorous or whimsical.

Join us for some “Wishful Thinking”. Doors open at 3 p.m. EST.

 

Short Version of a Long Love Story

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We fell in love. Then we met. Yes. That is how it works when sparks fly in cyber space. It all began in a divorce support chat room where the last thing I was looking for was love. After six months of emails, instant messaging, and daily detailed phone conversations, we ran out of questions and the answers were consistent. Seeing each other face to face was just an inevitable step in an already established relationship. Finally a flight was booked. A dear friend drove me to the airport…”dear” because she didn’t question my sanity, at least not openly. I remember my hands trembling as I held my hot tea before boarding a plane to see him for the first time. I wasn’t nervous about traveling 1500 miles to meet this man of my dreams or worried that instead I would be captured by a disturbed internet troll, never to be seen again (though it may have crossed my friend’s mind).  No. He was not the unknown. It was the unfamiliarity of flying, airport procedures like gates, security and layovers that scared the living crap out of me.

A long distance relationship ensued and we became frequent flyers.  I could sleep through take offs, knew which airport restaurants to avoid and was quick on the draw to trade my seat for future free flights. Our love was challenged by distance and immigration procedures but the time spent together was like a hundred honeymoons. This was our life for six years. Elated hellos. Tearful goodbyes. On one sunny day we were riding bikes along a woodland trail in Collingwood, Ontario. We stopped for a moment and he pretended to crouch down to retrieve a water bottle. Instead he looked up at me with a ring.

It’s nine years later and this morning, just like any other morning, I sleepily tap the outside of the electric tea kettle. Yes, it’s hot. He times it well. As I take my favourite orange mug off the shelf, he knows my silence is not for lack of gratitude. He knows I don’t converse until I’ve had at least a half a cup of caffeine…and I know that isn’t easy for him. I know he needs his 15 kilometer bike ride after sitting in an office all day. He knows I need to put my feet up. A tall glass of water waits for me because he knows I probably didn’t drink any all day. He knows me well. It is in this “knowing” that our love keeps growing.

 

Tiny warbler charmed

Beckoned by the westerlies

Warmed by desert sun

 

Over at dVerse Poets Pub, Toni asked us to pen a romantic haibun, reminding us also that a haibun is true, not fiction. This is my response.  I think the prose is a work in progress, much like love itself. 

 

Making Scents

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Image credit: pixabay.com

 

 

She made scents to him

Hints of jasmine

Teases of moon-flower

Flutters of frangipani

Gentle wafts swirling

Over sun kissed skin

She was his four o’clock flower

He was her sea breeze lingering

On sandalwood trails

Strolling paths of patchouli

Whispers of mint melding

 

 

Grace is tending bar over at dVerse. We are writing poems about scents.  I was pleasantly surprised after finishing this piece that it happened to be exactly 44 words.  An accidental quadrille!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tinted

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There was that one time

When roses did not seem so

Clichéd

She opened the guitar case

Lo and behold a dozen

Long stem intentions spoke

To her in petals and posies

Laughing at every thorn

And jagged edge

Nurturing her delusions

Of love

 

Written for our last Quadrille Monday before we take a brief summer break over at dVerse Poets Pub. Bjorn has given us the word “rose” to be used in a 44 word poem, excluding the title. Doors open at 3 p.m. EST.

Image credit: pixabay.com