Short Braiding Poems

Sweetgrass is primal
braiding shows how to connect
see value in life...

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There!
Look how far 
A shooting star 
Fades into day 
Braiding its way
Across the midnight 
Sky
SEARCHING  for another night....

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Starting dreams with you in mind
As my thoughts begin to wind
Themselves about,
Braiding lines of poetry
From unconscience realization,
Knitting mufflers of hope
From reassurance....

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Third grader is braiding her hair in an elaborate way.
Not students are supposed to do on testing day.
I do not care, keeping my opinions about this test at bay.
Validity of this idiotic waste of time has plenty of frivolous fray....

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After a- 
good shower, moon was 
    braiding the clouds.

        *

    Dawn, December.
Recently washed trees getting ready 
    to drink the sun.

        *

    The dew drips.
I collect the elixir 
    to die again.


Satish Verma...

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Robin Wall Kimmerer is the creator of the blessing for today 
(She’s also the author of ‘Braiding Sweetgrass’…by the way)

Her thought which, for us, is more of an allegory
When she says:
Maybe there is no such thing as rain;
there are only raindrops,
each with their own story...

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i used to
walk the
cornrows
shooting
mourning
doves as
they flew
out as
fast as
clay pigeons

now my eyes
are following
the cornrows
of her hair
from fore
head to
nape
like
following
a maze but

not wanting 
to escape
so by
braiding
ex
tensions
ex
tend
my 
stay...

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i used to
walk the
cornrows
shooting
mourning
doves as
they flew
out as
fast as
clay pigeons

now my eyes
are following
the cornrows
of her hair
from fore
head to
nape
like
following
a maze but

not wanting 
to escape
so by
braiding
ex
tensions
ex
tending
my 
stay...

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Hoisting the bisexuality
on a figurine,
I crawl back to anxiety.

The primitive instinct
was taking over the stitches
on a snake.

What do you want from
a moon for the drooling
mouth of a seashell ?

Braiding the breasts
against gravity,
earth wants to defy the duality.



Satish Verma...

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Mourning tools
clasped, and woven
directing
nailed fine pointers
marking place 
tapping tunes now
knitting lives and braiding hair

Birthing tools
glorious signs 
passing words
keeping all time 
patting cheeks
rubbing wet eyes
fingers steeple and crown me


Contest: The Crown of My Body -- A Whitney
Date: 6/18/12...

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As the night grows, dreams get more thicker
a storehouse of the subconscious mind
opens to reveal unknown secrets
braiding lurking fears, secret desires...

As the night grows, fantasy mushrooms
moon cradle or sinking in a chasm
waking happy or sad, depends on
mysteries revealed, as the night grows.

12.6.2020...

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People would talk about just a kiss,
Just a hug,
Just a touch.

But I am thinking about,
Just a finger poking my cheek,
Just his hand holding my chin,
Just him braiding my hair,
Just brushing my arm with his hand,
Just placing his hand on mine.

While he remembers caught himself being silly.
And I caught myself, catching feelings.
...

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Flaxen- haired maidens
frolic fresh meadows,
laughing and skipping
under a sparkling sun.

Their nimble fingers 
weave daisy chains,
delicately braiding 
wind tangled tresses.

Plucking on petals
a promise of love,
they clasp lily hands
chanting, circling.

With lips of pink roses
eyes of powder blue
skin of sweet jasmine
youth yearns to bloom.

MMC © 2011...

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Grandma sat in her rocker braiding her hair
Reciting Bible verses she had learned
I remember well the squeaking of the chair
Her words to me, I so resoundingly spurned.
She said, “You, son, you our minister will be,
Do not laugh, boy, for you will most surely see.”
True to her form the declaration came true 
In spite of how much I wanted it not to.

written September 10, 2021...

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Precious raindrops tumble down
weaving nature's beaded gown

Lilting breezes stir the air
braiding Gaia's silver hair

Bees and warblers hum and sing
when the snow caps melt in spring

Diamond streamlets dance along
with their tinkling crystal song

Waterfalls in feathered white
cascade from their noble height

Winter's chains all fall away
leaving life to build the day...

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Remnants of Winters tendrils
reside upon the bare basalt cliffs.
Cornrows of ice cascade
washed by relentless rain.

Down pours the mana
of Spring, the Bride,
berating the laggard Winter;
expunging the beauty of ice.

The sunless muted morn aids
Winters grip on its crowning glory;
braiding wayward wisps of white
into crevasses.

The last, lingering, lustful
remainders of Winter.
The day before Spring begins....

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Summer laid its fully taste
over flowers, over trees,
and a laden, heavy sky,
lingers on in mysteries.

Time has come for drunken clouds,
plunging in a turquoise sky,
driven by the autumn´s breath,
through the golden wheat and rye,
braiding early autumn´s wreath. 

Trees are colouring their leaves,
summer birds will cease to sing,
and an early autumn breeze,
receives 
messages of tales,
carried on a fuzzy wing....

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teeth are overwhelmed with the
chew, the select few, braiding
tongues together, push me
over with a feather, i can smell
the nasty weather & i am 
excited. 
speedwalk down the path,
don't look back, the wrath of
the forbidden, unbidden joy,
broken toy, mismatched pieces
that never seem to fit.
bottomless pit, fall forever, never
worry, sever ties in a hurry, 
accepted exception, convince
the reflection to leave me 
alone....

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Paws paddlewheel a roundness.
Mouth wide in the sluice, a sodden rudder
pushes sideways braiding a foaming wake.
Pond and dog orbit an ocular sky,
watery eyes memo the turning scene:
a bobbing hat floats beneath clouds,
a heron fishing over its stooping shadow,
a nodding woman upon a snorting horse,
a stroller, a mother,
an old man shaped like a walking stick.
The delirious dog bites a wave and sneezes,
while to-and-fro, a bobbing ball seductively,
turns his world....

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