There are deep creases in palm of the harried hag’s hand
Her wizen face is wrinkled, freckled, there is a brown spot on her cheek.
She has a surreal expression; her voice is gravelly and ethereal.
her tent seems mystical, with embroidered crushed velvet table cloth
taro cards are next to her left hand, she lifts a palm over her hard runes
there is a beautiful purple crystal ball in the center of her work table
I feel her mystical powers, and my hands begin shaking like autumn leaves
An energy I do not recognize begins zapping lightning bolts around the room
The hag smiles, there is no fear in her, I can see this is her normal.
Pile fallen coconuts
Pierce shelled core of its meat
Pluck taro roots and boil
Pound roots with honeycomb
Pour in tin cans with lids
Place in a ground oven
Poi Kulolo dessert
DATE: 27th June, 2022.
POEM TITLE: A Morning’s Play
In a misty morning simmer,
where droplets run along
blades of grasses in limber
to a game of ‘who grows bigger’
until a splatter rings a song,
a brief play date gone wrong.
Pearls on taro leaves form ripples,
upon the water's face,
rolling off like dimes and nickels,
as they bask in their clear flippers,
overlooking the country gnome,
“pitter-patter” they roam.
One eases it’s way out in orbs,
waving goodbye to friends,
translucent; it fully absorbs
the warm air as the body soars
along with the winds of July,
so long, fellow ally.
With the sun now driving it’s flares,
weeping flower heads rise,
nature awakes and dries it’s tears,
a new day presents new affairs,
another chance of a surprise,
like play dates of the skies.
CONTEST NAME: Dewdrops Poetry Contest
SPONSOR: Angel L Villanueva
Betrayal
Stranger looking into me staring in my eyes
hiding the deception in his careful sea of lies
Slowly breaking locks I’d carefully constructed placed around my heart to appear it was hardened
Breaking up my fences pulling down my walls building a friendship
not heeding ancestors calls
Empathic senses ringing a warning in my ear
ignore it wanting closeness pretending not to hear
Turning a blind eye to all the nagging signs
keep my heart twisting in a knot and in a bind
I read my taro and I can’t believe my eyes
in shock I look down and see my quivering thighs
Libras know this game better than most
pour a glass of wine and you drink a toast
Wolf in sheep’s clothing pretending to love me
fool me once shame on you my love you’ll never see
Emerald green that shines on
gleaming green jewel bug
Algae green of the serene pond
And there swim the shoveler ducks
Harlequin green from areca leaves pinnate
Softly grins when sunrays gently penetrate
And the dark green on betel leaves
Oh ho, the deep red on tongue it leaves
Light green of the Mandevilla
That climbs high to shine bright
Mixed hues of the leaves of taro root
And turquoise green on the crystal clear Lake
O! The iridescent green hues
of peafowls whose vibrant colors ooze
off his pretty long feathers,
Do I need to apprise further?
Green paddy field glares
And sways like a girl's hair
Teal green from singing river
Accumulates minerals and delivers
Did I mention the grass green?
Hey! Isn't our earth's screen?
Raising that lustrous curtain,
unfolds vivid scene by scene
Our earth breaths through these shades of green
Without these green, there is no pleasant scenes
De la croûte à la mie
Parvient l'essentiel de l'ambroisie;
De la préparation à la fourniture
Tournoie la belle tournure.
Miettes pêche en poudre,
Saupoudrées à la surface,
C'est son coup de foudre
Tout à votre chasse.
Taro, crème, lait, pêche bien assortis,
D'ensemble ouatées au sein,
C'était ce à quoi Euphrosyne mordit;
Sa joie se transmet à travers millénaire chemin.
Un bonbon chic au beau milieu,
Comme l'étoile la plus brillante au centre de cieux;
Volubiles velours au pourtours,
Comme l'entrain pour romance pour toujours.
Prenez-en une pincée
Et laissez caresser vos doigts par sa souplesse,
Prenez-en une bouchée
Et laissez adoucir votre palais par sa délicatesse.
Regardez-le souvent,
Que vous ayez la pêche permanente;
Savourez-le souvent,
Que la bonne santé soit à la suivante.
You were
neither a destroyer
nor a preserver
like Shelley’s west wind.
You were
a native signal
to harvest the taro and tapioca.
You were
a swing for the shore,
and my soul too.
You weren’t
just a parching wind
for me.
My still leaves
were energized
by your verve.
Moon shines.
Henna plant blooms.
Ghost of a love loiters
in the old melody
from a CD.
If you blow now,
a heaven will open
as in the past.
Climate has changed
like generation.
Vrishchika and the present
are passive,
poker-faced.
Season of stirring wind
is no more.
An Ockhi of havoc howls
instead.
Vrishchika,- a month in Malayalam calendar, noted for continuous
wind in some parts of Kerala
Ochkhi – name of a cyclone
First published in The Curlew
COVID-19 a contagious disease
inherited from SARS-COV-2 borne
a new killer disease, called coronavirus.
Weak immune system, a havoc to your
frail body, exposure can kill anybody.
Quarantine, I’m afraid they’ll force, if I didn’t
cancel my flight to Japan, to meet my
Gogyoshi Master Taro Aizu san this coming
March 10, hoping,won’t offend, to cancel by
choice due to pleading voice and pandemic panic.
Cancelling flights a toil, for some airlines, who
don’t care, the money you paid, will fade.Not a
penny reimburse, for traveling expenses was not
properly address. Spending 19 hundred dollars,
a dread and hard to tread, to recover the bread.
I am now as old as the days
Of grandma's stories.
But I remember the tales as the boy
Who heard them.
There were songs too,
In ancient tongues.
Grandma sang -
O my old man! You who ate taro root
And died,
Eat pumpkin and come back.
King's horse has a stiff tail.
Are you riding a white horse?
And she told me a story.
A thief sneaked into her home,
While she was weaving a loin-cloth
For grandpa.
It was late in the night and she was alone.
Grandpa had prowled out at sundown
To handle safety of the village, for
He was the tiger-man of the hamlet.
The thief was hiding behind the oil lamp,
And grandma began telling the lamp about
Grandpa's mighty paws and battles he won.
And she continued her thread-work fearlessly.
Listening to grandma,
The intruder's heart began to pound in fear.
He cursed his luck, silently, for his mistaken selection,
A tiger's house.
He tiptoed backward, and darted out,
Leaping over my ancestral threshold like a fox
Frightened by ghostly imaginations.
Grandma smiled wisely, and began singing
Another song,
When she heard a tender roar approaching.
after Solomon
Entering the door
After shrouding the porch
With the night of a cold kiss
Darkness climbs the stairs
And engulfs me in its throat
My eyes sink into bottomless sea
With waves in havoc
On which no son of man walks
I sense earth slipping away
From underneath my feet
Groping around heaps of black miles
Of dead cherry blossoms
Scattered on a road to a dark church
I stumble upon ruins of confessions
Chilled with cries of a morgue's frozen floor
Where no candle is kindled
I forget to weep
The least I could wish to relearn
How to shed tears
Is to become a taro leaf after the rains
For there are no more sins left
For me commit
MACHALI talab KA
jugano key bujney ka,
Taro key tim timaney ka,
Awaaz mei deundati awaaz ka,
Andero mai dundtey patango ka,
Raygistan mai jaltey jeel ka,
payasa hoon suney awaaz tumharei jasey,
MACHALI talab KA
Light tropic breezes
carry colorful balloons
across taro fields
While ancient homesteads
dotting the quiet landscape
stand frozen in time
Written on 5/24/2015
Haiku
Snail's sticky tongue feet
climb gently the Taro leaves
make path clean and slick
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