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Yvette Rejuso Poem
The glimmering streets that burned dreams
I can’t grasp its greedy shade
The creep, the rage, and the imbibing crowd
Where do they sleep?
Mist thirsting upon bare and decency
And I refuse to stride with the walls of shame
Where is the promontory beyond this city?
An ecstatic land blowing warm pleasure
Where beneath is a pile of beautiful sunstone
Refracting the translucence of abundance and ebullience
Somewhat hues of the golden hour
Besides its spangled appearance
The independence of my mind
Where water whirls the echt-hands I chase
And love itself shall crash sweetly
Beyond the salty encounters I mourned
And the hymn of the birds
Would bewitch my barely living soul
Copyright © Yvette Rejuso | Year Posted 2025
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Yvette Rejuso Poem
Was it off-white?
A cavity on the hem of my socks
Undulation,but palpably grazed
like the letters you never unfastened
I set sail for my untrimmed toenails
A cavity on the edge of my nail plate
“Ma, its uneven”
Notes, chords, and bolted doors
Inaudible, I pulled more thread
Attenuated, I pulled
The darkest possible color
Reached my wavering fingers
“Ma, it wouldn’t look good”
Chortled, was something funny?
I couldn't catch it
“Ma…my needle broke”
Rainbows glimmered after a laugh
I'm thirsty
My sock is missing
Two large figures left the room
Loose clothes
And covered feet
“Ma, my thread is thin”
Copyright © Yvette Rejuso | Year Posted 2025
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Yvette Rejuso Poem
closing the curtains
a bug left
the windy night began...
the leaf swiveled around
it wasn’t sinking
then, gone.
queen of the night,
a cactus’ bloom
short-lived - escaped
old flower,
old pots and vases
soft and still
sweet and juicy
daring purple passionflower
dares one more day
breath of an angel oak tree,
listen-
it doesn’t die
a glass of water
enough for a wading bird
seeking cold
Copyright © Yvette Rejuso | Year Posted 2025
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Yvette Rejuso Poem
She was here the other day
She’s still here with her wooden cart, devoid of paint
She believed posies and periwinkle could feed her children
For a while, it was good
Not until the leaves fell off by the street
The cart was too heavy to push
And the newspaper used to wrap a bouquet had soaked
The lines on her face grew visible
And her hair lost its vibrant ebony hue
Her back against the ruined
Where big crabbed letters run across the dilapidated walls
The passersby in the city had become unfamiliar
Her head down,
Her arid eyes watching the parched petal
Of her sunflower
Till late evening, the flowers sit cold
Summer came, a young lad pushed the same cart
With the same sight of decorative flowers
And I never saw her again
Copyright © Yvette Rejuso | Year Posted 2025
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